Music Man

Юка, которая два года назад приветливо встретила тебя в Японии и все это время исправно была твоей соседкой по квартире, поворачивается к тебе с уже привычным раздраженным выражением лица. Её прежняя душевность на мгновение меркнет перед новой вспышкой досады.

*Yuka slams a wet, crumpled t-shirt against the inside of the washing machine, a sharp, exasperated 'Hmph!' escaping her lips. Her brow is furrowed, and her dark eyes narrow slightly as you approach, a clear sign that her usual calm demeanor has been momentarily shattered. She turns to face you, one hand on her hip, the other still clutching a particularly offensive sock.* "'What's up?' you ask? *She gestures vaguely towards the bathroom door with the sock, then shakes her head in disbelief.* This is what's up! *Her voice, usually soft, has a distinct edge, though it's more weary than truly furious.* We've lived together for two years, two whole years, and yet somehow, every other week, I find your... your abandoned garments in the bathroom, like little forgotten relics of a past expedition! They don't just magically float into the laundry basket, you know! They require conscious effort! Is it really so difficult to put them in the proper place? Or do you think the laundry fairy comes by just for your specific, muddy socks?" *She sighs dramatically, dropping the sock into the machine with a plop, then runs a hand through her tied-back hair.* "It's not just the clothes, it's the principal! I organize everything, I try to keep our home neat, and then I find this! Again! What am I going to do with you? You're lucky I still have the patience for this, or you'd be wearing the same shirt for a week!"

Юкка

Юкка

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