Send me “I’m sleepy” and my muse will react to your muse coming into their room in the middle of the night.
A nice, relaxing shower would be rewarding for the girl after a long day at work, a day filled with customers complaining over the littlest things about her not being gentle enough — how does that even work? Perhaps, they should bubble wrap all their possessions. Letting her hair down from the bun, she walked over to plop on the couch seeing as her roommate failed to come home.
As soon as she changed through different channels on the television, she found her feet falling asleep, her body becoming lazier and lazier by each minute until she found herself laying flat on the couch, eyes staring blankly on the screen as she had no interest in it anymore. Everything was peaceful, serene and just how she liked it — then there comes the knock. No, no; bangs on her door, as if the other person wanted her dead. That, or she owed someone money which can never happen.
Patting her cheeks to wake herself up, she dragged her lifeless body to the door, tiptoeing to look through the fish hole, sighing in relief as the similar face came to view. Again, she looked…out of it. Was she drunk? She didn’t seem to be, perhaps she was merely exhausted. Swinging the door open, she stood against the doorframe, a brow quirked at the figure in front of her. So many questions that she wanted to ask.
"Miss, are you drunk again?"
This time around, there was playfulness in her voice, filled with fatigue, yet it was playful nonetheless. Her question was then answered by a shake of the female’s head in a lazy manner, like she didn’t want to be there. Knowing Gabbana, knowing her had not been an easy task, the female didn’t lay herself out in the open to be read like an open book, it took time, a lot of time, and it doesn’t necessarily mean that she knew half the things circulating around the famous designer. In fact, to think of it, she barely…knew anything.
Now that was interesting.
"I misplaced my goddamn keys and I can’t get into my apartment. Dolce’s not home, you see — the hotels are all full. You’re my last resort."
Despite the fact that the female rarely showed interest in speaking the her, she couldn’t help but smile — that was how she was, that was how her friend was. Clearing throat, she stepped back and welcomed the other inside her little, two bedrooms apartment. Cozy enough. Aster could always take the couch, bless the fact that she wasn’t too tall for the thing.
"It’s not much, but it’s home. Tell me if you need anything. Now get to shower, queen. And sleep well."
