fresh out of the shower after an eight-hour gig downtown, her hair is dripping wet onto her t-shirt ( which honestly might be her ex’s that she forgot to give back , but that’s NOT her concern right now ) as she rummages through the community kitchen’s fridge for a late night snack. a noise behind her makes her flip on the kitchen lights , hand still gripped around a container of milk. “ jesus, you scared me. ” thankfully , it’s not an intruder , though the other person might as well be. lucky turns back to the fridge , replacing the milk and pulling out berries and whipped cream before closing the fridge and sliding the container to the middle of the island. “ hungry ? ” the femme questions. “ there’s probably enough left to share. ”
