(Zoop!) Beck’s apartment was on the top floor of her building. She slipped the key in the lock and opened the door, flipping on the light. The main room they came in was very neat and completely Beck. She had a large window overlooking the city and a couch was placed in front of it. The floor was hardwood, but there was a tasteful grey rug on the floor. The walls were painted a cream color that almost matched her hair. In the corner was a large birdcage where a white parakeet sat, chirping at her. She set her coat on the rack and gestured with her head as she made her way over to the cage. "Make yourself at home." * * * "Do you want bread? We could make some garlic bread really quickly."
He looked around curiously, taking in the scenery with thought. *** She smiled, getting the bread. "Yeah, we could do that."
She took the bird out of its cage and set it on her shoulder before turning back to him. “Let’s head over to the bathroom... it’s just down the hall.” *** He turned on the oven. “We need to hurry, then.”
He seemed surprisingly uncertain, but quite used to unfamiliar places. "Alright," he said slowly, going to the bathroom. *** She nodded, getting the ingredients.
She brought a chair with her, tucking her hair behind her ear. She put it with the back to the sink and tapped it with her fingertips. "Here... sit here. Are you alright? You seem nervous." * * * "I can't believe I didn't do this before. I am a fool."
She frowned but didn't press him. Picking up a folded towel, she placed it over the lip of the sink and gently guided his head back. Her fingers lightly brushed his hair and he would smell the delicate scent of her perfume on her wrist. "Is that comfortable?" * * * "Not easy enough. The pasta is going to get cold," he griped, folding his arms.
He relaxed slightly. "Yes, that's good." *** She patted his head playfully. "Why don't we eat it now, then? We can make the garlic bread as a sort of dessert.:
She turned on the sink and warm water gently flowed over his hair. Beck went over to the shower, pulling out a shampoo. "You'll have to use mine," she said, returning to his side. "I don't generally keep shampoo around for guests." * * * He squinted at her. "That's not the right order, Urethra."
"I don't pay attention to what kind of shower supplies anyways.." *** She huffed. "Stop calling me that."
She laughed lightly, glancing down at him. "Well, good," she said quietly, coming over to his side and beginning to work, her fingers gently running through his hair. "I think I'm doing beyond my duties anyway." * * * "Stop calling you what? Urethra?"
Her laugh was soft and she poured some shampoo into her palm, massaging it into his scalp under the warm water. "What made you happy today?" * * * "That's your name," he replied smoothly. "Isn't it?"
He opened his eyes to look up at her. They were bright and curious. "What made me happy?" *** She frowned at him, crossing her arms. "No."
She paused, glancing down at him, her gaze soft. "Yes. What made you happy today?" * * * "Hm. Well, we need to come up with a name for you then."
She looked down at him again, frowning as she rinsed out the soap. There was a silence before the water switched off. "Sit up, please." * * * "Greg?"
