#touchtankx

The blonde was on her second cup of coffee and had barely touched her egg white omelet. Too much went through her head about performance, poise, perfection. This wasn’t a time to eat — not that she ever really felt the need; they’d trained her well. Peach's palm cupped her chin as she stared mindlessly down at the Splenda disappearing into the black hole in her mug. What brought her out of the thoughts she spiraled down was someone filling the space beside her at the breakfast bar. The blonde shuffled to move her purse, spilling into his space. “Sorry, I’m a mess today,” she apologized with a smile; only then did she notice the dirt that was etched into the calluses on his hands. “You too?”

Maeve lost the last game of pool and paid her dues in liquid gold. The neck of the beer rested gently between her fingers as she lifted for one more sip before breaking the triangle into shards. She prepared for battle, the pool stick laid comfortably between her knuckles. She had been cautious not to overdo it, her determination being her downfall, the game got away from her. This time, Maeve dawned the mindset of “wing it” and waited to see what happened. The four ball shot into the pocket, while the seven rolled nearby. “Guess that makes you stripes,” Maeve said with a sly smile breaking through her features as she hit the second ball in before sending the cue soaring towards another with no luck. “Floor’s all yours.” A hand gestured forward for them to take their turn then went back to the glass bottle without another word.

She nearly couldn't believe her eyes. Rea's neck might have snapped from the double take alone. If someone wasn't beside her, there was a chance she'd convince herself it hadn't even happened. With another set of eyes, there was a chance for clarification. "Tell me you also saw the man walking a goose," the girl barely got out without laughing. It was the surprise itself that took precedence, but as soon as the words were expelled, the sound followed. "I feel like I should've asked for a picture."

Lotte knelt down, that part of her cargo pants wet from the freshly watered soil. It was hot lately, maybe too hot. She worried for the fruit of next season if it burnt, but there was time to recover, if necessary. “I’d kind of like to give them some shade if you happen to have a tarp, a hammer, and some nails.” The blonde got to her feet, rubbing grime from her hands onto the damp army green fabric. “If not, I can bring one next week when I stop by. I think it’ll do them good.”

Her neighbor had been at it again. Whether it was vibrations of speakers that rattled paintings on her wall or some girl screaming that he broke her heart, it was always something. The blonde dropped her brush, hand still hanging onto the irritation that he’d presented tonight. It’d been hours of the same banging, over and over, again and again. She’d tried to drown out the repetitive thunks with music, first her record player, then her headphones, and still, she could feel the vibration. “That’s it, I’m going up. Hold down the fort, Moo,” she instructed her long-haired tuxedo, curled up on her desk. Lotte couldn’t paint in these conditions. The blonde stomped up to the next floor and rapped on the door a few times before pressing the doorbell button repeatedly. She knew he’d take his time, unbothered about anyone but himself. When the door opened, Lotte looked down at his shadow on the floor. “Hi Max, always lovely to see you,” along with a smile before it dropped and her attention shifted to the culprit. “What in the fuck are you doing up here, you limp-dicked halfwit?”

" you've been pretty quiet lately. " he told himself he wasn't going to bring it up, that maybe he's been reading too much into it. but today it's been gnawing at him. " are you mad at me or something ? "