#incherentual

He hasn't slept in a few days, he's been too busy building an empire around the city. For now it was meeting after meeting. After all he needed to know what was going on in the companies he had invested in. At the very least he seemed satisfied with it all. But he was tired.

Steven wasn't exactly the most social person- only when he needed to be he, and with the constant meetings with frustrating people who didn't seem to know what they were doing half the time without financial advise- he was more tired than he would like to admit. Tired, and perhaps a little hungry.

"I forgot to cook dinner again.." He mutters lowly before shifting through all the documents scattered across the dining room table. Silently glad that he and his roommates had a big enough space and wealth among themselves to keep their apartment decorated and nice. Actually, the thought of clashing designs and thoughts with both Wallace and Lance left him with a throbbing headache. Both of them were absolutely ridiculous, and sometimes impossible to deal with.

Now that he thinks about it, he doesn't remember ever assigning any chores to either of them. Well- of course they could simply hire someone to come in and do so, but Steven had severe trust issues with someone rooting around through his things. Especially with his display of precious stones- which lead him to lock his room every time he left it. And he would sooner protest the idea of hiring someone to clean their apartment versus doing it themselves.

The thought of chores seemed to strike him as funny as the lack of fantastic smelling cuisine seemed to force his stomach to growl at him. He had neglected both breakfast and lunch and it wasn't very good to go a day without at least one meal of decent proportions. 

"I seem to have forgotten to start dinner again- I haven't even thought about what to make at all.." He would bounce off ideas with his roommates, since he usually cooks for three; however, it seems that he'd much rather be spontaneous. Besides- they both could be craving two very different things, and making extra would be a bit of a waste. Especially if either wasn't very found of leftovers. He sighs and stands. Gathering all his files, stuffing what was already organized into a folder and setting it back down on the couch. He'd just announce what he was making before making it. Were his roommates even home? Not that he particularly cared anyway, they ate at all hours of the day most of the time.