[center [center [google-font https://fonts.googleapis.com/css?family=Coming+Soon][google-font https://fonts.googleapis.com/css?family=Reenie+Beanie][size18 [Coming+Soon [+slategrey [b [size25 [#0eaccd s k i n ]]] [div [pic http://i.imgur.com/YHEedjy.png]]
It was just the beginning - the first of more to come, but nobody seemed to be able to find a motive. Some speculated that there [i was] no motive. Others pegged it as revenge.
Somewhere in the world, someone was getting wronged every second, of every minute, of every hour, of every day.
With so much hate... how wrong could it be to purge the world of just a little?
Yeah - that was the more noble side of it.
But what if his intentions were not? What if the only cause that mattered, was pure satisfaction - to sate a craving beyond control?
Your character has posted an ad in the paper advertising for a roommate, and that's when my guy comes along - quiet, clean, clearly keeps more to himself - and very much needing a place to stay.
This is basically a plot following our characters and all of the crazy things that happen once they start living together.
Romance is welcome but not required! There are going to be [i dark themes] in this plot, fair warning, and the main characters should both be [i male].
The age limit on characters for this will be about 24+, and as I said, they should bot be male. They're going to be roommates, basically, living in a two-bedroom shared flat.
[#0eaccd Interested?] Drop a [http://rp.eliteskills.com/pm.php?u=52081 PM] titled [i [b [#0eaccd dark]].
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[center Who knew with these guys. Anything could be a reason to kill someone. Sometimes there was no reason or rhyme to it at all. “I think we should consider bringing in a behavioural analyst to look at this more closely. I appreciate you always brainstorming, though. Helps to get me thinking.”
Greer swished his remaining coffee about the cup, clicking his tongue as he made his way for the exit. “If anything else comes up, or you maybe think of something we haven’t, Please always feel welcome to voice it. Well... to me. Can’t say much about the miserable you-know-who.” He chuckled, swinging his way out.
“Thank you, these look lovely.” He carries the veggies away to gently layer them in a careful arrangement, drizzling them with something he’d shaken up once more to get the spices moving. “Well, I think I do my best to live a little. I spend the majority of my day dealing with all sorts of... stuff. And it’s not like I really have much to put my salary towards besides charity or holidays, so it’s nice to do this sort of thing. I also wholly agree. It’d be nice to follow through with plans for a change.”
Malcolm’s gaze followed Remus as he wandered off, the brunet washing his hands thoroughly before he set a time for at least a portion of their dinner. [i Oh. Good thinking.] “Red wine would actually go wonderfully, I think.” He wondered if it was for some special occasion. Remy didn’t strike him particularly as a big wine drinker on the regular.]
Jessica bit the inside of her lip. "It's not a good sign," she agreed. If the killer was losing their sanity faster than ever, they'd only end up with a higher body count. Hopefully they'd also start making mistakes, but--unfortunately, it never seemed to work that way. If anything, they become more methodical with every further kill.
"Maybe he's ugly," she suggested with a laugh. "Killing to get back at the people who... I don't know, teased him in school or something?" She shrugged. "I'm spitballing at this point, don't take any of this seriously."
It wasn't a common motivation for killing. Not for serial killing, anyways. Mass murder, maybe, but... well, that wasn't pleasant to think about, either. But then again, nothing about this killer was normal. Killing attractive people indiscriminately of sex, without a sexual motivation, wasn't normal. Serial killing wasn't normal, either. She sighed, tired. "I don't know, Greer. I wish it was still quiet here. Nothing but the occasional car accident coming through the morgue."
"I've never had surf and turf, do you know? I don't have the kind of salary to afford that kind of thing," he said with a laugh. "One or the other, sure, I'm not poor. But you know." He smiled.
Remy laughed. "Happens to all of us." He offered up the chopping board to Klauss; everything was chopped up. Ready for whatever he needed it for. "Let me break that chain, then. Let's make a plan and go through with it!" He patted Klauss on the back.
He stepped toward his room and retrieved a bottle of wine from under his bed. With some ceremony, he carried it out into the room. "How do you feel about a little red wine to go with our meal?" he asked. It was a nice vintage. He'd been planning to save it for his and Taylor's next date night, but, well. There wasn't going to be a next date night anymore.
“No, not a damned thing.” Greer sipped at his coffee, casting Jessica a sad smile. “Besides the obvious devolution, my next guess would be that this is a different killer. Or at the very least that this person is losing grip very quickly. And that does not bode well. Seems like we’re going to have to institute a curfew at this rate.”
That wasn’t exacrtly a terrible idea. You know, besides the fact that whomever was doing this would also know of the curfew. Which meant one of two things— they would work around it, or they would fail to scratch the itch and make a mistake. Whatever the case, it seemed like they had to choose the least worst option.
“Why does he hunt the attractive things...? What angers him?”
“Is that what they call it?” He chuckled, tending to the lobster in the meantime. He was only teasing, of course. He knew. “I prefer a variety, I guess.”
A walk? He was considering a walk with all that was going on? Was he certain? That seemed unwise given the lunatic running rampant about town, but he supposed it was better the both of them and in broad daylight than not.
“I’ll go with you, yes. I haven’t been to a museum in such a long time. I forgot what it’s like, doing normal things. I feel like any time i spend outside of home is at the hospital. But I guess that’s what you sign up for with my kind of calling.” He chuckled.
“The only plans I had were of sleeping in - assuming nobody calls me in for an emergency. Come to think, I guess I don’t make plans as much as I used to. Haven’t even gone on a trip or anything for the holidays.” Malcolm inhaled deeply at the thought.
“Wow, I feel... old. What happened??”
Jessica looked up when Greer returned. She was more or less done by now. The samples were all sent to the lab, she'd checked everything she could; all she could do now was wait for the samples to come back. That, and wait for the funeral home to take him away. The stiff was in the morgue for now, wheeled out of sight in one of the cabinets.
She accepted the coffee from Greer, a slight furrow in her brows. "Unlikely," she muttered. It would be nice. This whole mess was worrying. The kills were so close together. He'd strike again within the week, and now that they knew his profile had expanded beyond women, it was even harder to predict him. Aside from being able to predict that he'd strike again in this town, she had nothing. It was worrying.
"I wish we had more to go on. Anything to go on," she said, shaking her head. "Especially since the killings are so brutal."
She looked at Greer. "Did you find anything in the field?"
Remy's eyes widened in surprise. "Surf [i and] turf?" he asked, joking lightly. Still, it really was an impressive meal. Expensive, too. Was this more than just a friend date, maybe? He risked a glance at Klauss. No way to tell. But the hand that guided his over the knife was gentle, like the fingers that brushed by his hips.
He grinned a little bit. Maybe there was potential here.
"Oh, I don't know," he said, shrugging. "I was thinking of going for a walk along the river. Do you want to come? We could stop by the wildlife museum. They have wolves, you know."
As he spoke, he chopped. He felt a little inadequate, honestly. Compared to Klauss's perfect chop, his cuts were uneven, not perfectly the same. Hopefully it was good enough.
"Unless you have plans?" he asked. He didn't mean to monopolize Klauss's time, either. As busy as Klauss was with his dozen jobs, he'd be lucky to have a moment free to do anything, let alone hang out with him. He understood if Klauss had something else to do.
[center “Right.” She had a point there. No defensive wounds. That could mean several things? Perhaps he had pulled them into a false sense of security prior to killing them? Perhaps he was attractive, well-spoken, charismatic? Or perhaps appeared of a higher place of authority and therefore demanded little suspicion?
The cogs were slaving away up there in his head, but Jessica had posed a lot of good points. “Let me know if you find anything interesting. If it’s not sexually motivated and he’s doing this based upon looks... then we have a problem. Because of all of the factors he might just see this as a game. Who knows. You have my number, though, please keep me posted?”
He inclined his head politely and turned to take his leave, heart already pounding. Based upon what they knew, it was likely they would find another body, and very soon. The timeline wasn’t all that spaced out.
No forensic evidence. And even then, if they weren’t in the system, they didn’t have jack squat. Greer made sure to return with coffee, his brow knit with frustration. “Any chance this guy is gonna drop dead in the next 24 hours and make it easy on us?”
“We are having lobster, if you’re quite all right with that. Paired with filet mignon because I suppose I was feeling indecisive and like a challenge.” A smile came to his lips then, pleased and amused by the hand that had rested so cautiously betwixt his shoulder blades.
Malcolm inclined his head so that he could better gaze at Remy, a mischievous sourire making a home for itself on his handsome features. “You know, actually, if you would like to help, would you mind slicing these like the rest? I want to prepare this to go into the oven.”
Very easily he raised his arm, trading places gently with him, pressing a the handle of knife into his palm over the cutting board, and as he left, those same long, dexterous fingers chanced an ever so casual caress that swept the man’s waist.
Hey, if you were going to flirt, might as well do it unabashedly.
“I would ask you how work was, but it’s friday, so let’s enjoy the evening without the ghost of hours gone to haunt us. Better still, what do you want to do tomorrow?”
Jessica sighed. She looked at Greer. He listened, at least. Unlike Johnson. Honestly, the old man should just hurry up and get fired already. Or retire. Either one.
"There's a lot weird going on here," she said, nodding at the body. "No self-defense wounds, for one. No DNA under his fingernails, aside from his own. That doesn't make any sense, does it?" She tapped her notebook. He carried his own guts to his deathplace, but he didn't fight back against the man who was killing him? It didn't make any sense. But it did link to the other murders.
"I think it's the same killer. I think we were wrong to say he discriminates between genders. It might be more that he chooses them by..." she pointed the notebook at the man's face. "By how attractive they are."
"But... he's not sexually motivated toward the bodies. He doesn't assault them or stab them--sometimes he stabs them," she allowed, "But not always. This time, for example."
She shook her head, looking up at Greer. "I'll send you the full report later. But... Johnson aside, I'd keep in mind the possibility that there's only one killer."
He walked into a warm room. Music played gently in the background. The smell of delicious food filled the air. "Oh--yes," he said, mood momentarily dampened by the reminder of the killer at large. The face of his coworker's murdered relative flashed before his eyes, but with a blink, he banished it. Tonight, he was going to relax and have a good time.
"So what are we having for dinner?" he asked. He set his bag by the floor and took his coat off. A moment later, he found a blanket and wrapped it around his shoulders. So cloaked, he wandered into the kitchen to see what Klauss was chopping. So careful. So perfect. He looked like a professional chef. [i Or a surgeon,] he reminded himself, smiling for a beat.
"Looks delicious." He reached out casually to put a hand on Klauss's back, paused, then let himself go through with the motion, nestling it between the man's shoulder blades. It was a casual enough motion. And they'd already been flirting some, hadn't they. "Can I help?" he asked.
[center Johnson could be such an asshole. He must’ve shown some kind of promise for them to overlook his major dickhead status in this place, but hey. Who was he to talk? He’d recently transferred here, and for this case specifically. He’d be leaving Jessica, unfortunately, once this was all over. Which was a shame because he really liked her.
“You know, actually— there was something I wanted to check on. I’ll grab us some coffee, too. Be back in a few.”
He wanted to talk to her. She obviously had some thoughts, and he needed someone other than this overly confident schmuck to act as a sounding board for theories. Someone who had actual forensic knowledge and would be able to tell him if any of his theories made sense.
Jessica was smart, obviously. She knew far more than he did, so surely she would be able to tell him more. Plus, even if he wasn’t the one who’d blatantly insulted her capacity for investigation, he did want to apologise. Even if it meant smelling dead bodies for the next twenty minutes.
Soft music filled the apartment—Dean Martin, actually. Something to keep him company as he took care of a few things. Malcolm’s day had gone rather well, all considered. Not a hitch whatsoever at work—lives saved. What more could one ask for? Another excellent job done.
He was busy at his cutting board, slicing with all the precision a surgeon would.
The door opened, a familiar voice announcing Remy’s return. It was honestly a good thing he’d been sure to block off the time in his schedule for this evening or he might still have been in theatre working on patients. Not that it wouldn’t have given him pleasure, but cooking was definitely a close competitor when it came to which had a bigger seat in his heart.
“In here— you made it back in one piece, I see.” He got the impression that this man had a tendency to move with particular urgency. He hoped, at least, the context would be obvious. They did still have a killer roaming their streets, after all.
When the man came to her, hours had passed since he'd been found on the scene of the crime. It was no fault of the officers. Traffic was rough, and the morgue was a bit of a hike from where he'd been found. Still, it meant she had to act fast.
Pictures first. He was handsome, no denying that. Jessica found herself wondering if he'd been killed for being attractive, if that was the killer's motive. [i Maybe it's not women, but pretty things.]
She noted it on a random pad of paper and kept moving.
The killer had nicely slashed the lower end of the Y-cut open already, but had left the nasty sternum-chopping to her. Tearing out the heart from the abdominal cavity was all well and good, but surely he could've broken a few bones instead?
Maybe he couldn't. She paused, then reconsidered. No, he'd shown surgical acuity in his previous killings, hadn't he? Perhaps this was another sign of his ability. Another note.
The rectum and the mouth showed no signs of trauma. Not sexually motivated. Fell in line with the previous killings as well. Jessica licked her lips and noted it down. The detectives had started talking about a second killer, but she wasn't so sure about that. Sure, this one was different--a man, the extent of the violence--but there were a lot of similarities between the two. Beautiful people. Horrible, slow deaths. Abandoned bodies in similar locations.
Another note. She'd leave her thoughts to them.
This handsome stiff had had no identification on him at his time of death. Either that, or the killer had removed it. She sighed out. It was sad, really. By the time anyone figured out who he was, he wouldn't be handsome anymore. But that was just how it went.
Another similarity: no easy evidence. No hairs left behind. No foreign DNA. She took a few samples from his chest cavity in case the killer had accidentally scraped their hands getting the heart out, but that was a long shot. The man's fingernails were clean as well; the man hadn't clawed his killer in self-defense. Either that, or the killer had been careful about cleaning his nails. She chuckled at that image: the killer, soaked in blood, manicuring the dead man's hands.
"What's so funny?"
Jessica fell silent in a heartbeat. She looked up at the detectives as they appeared down the stairs and cursed internally. Johnson and Greer. Greer wasn't so bad, but Johnson made her consider murder herself. [i I work with bodies all day, if I didn't laugh a little I'd go crazy!] she felt like screaming. But instead, she just nodded.
"I've come for his fingerprints," Johnson declared. Jessica stepped aside deferentially. The detective walked up, took the man's hand, then paused. Jessica followed his eyes and froze. She'd left her notepad out in full view, damn it!
Johnson scoffed. "Still playing detective, huh, little missy?" he laughed, shaking his head. Greer made eye contact with Jessica and grimaced sympathetically. Jessica looked down. Damn it. It had to be Johnson, didn't it?
"Hate it down here. It's cold and stinks," Johnson commented, letting go of the man's hand. They had a decent set of prints; it might be possible to match him up in the database. "Come on, Greer. Let's get to the real detective work."
"Sorry," Greer whispered. "Coming!" he followed up, louder, hurrying after Johnson. Jessica stared after them, then sighed. Nothing she could do. Had to keep her head down.
Despite himself, Remy found he was rushing home. He was excited about dinner, and why not? It was his first date in a while!
Friend-date. Not a real date. They'd have dinner and chat and it would be very friendly.
But still! He was getting to know Klauss. They'd ended up making much better roommates than he'd ever dreamed they would. All he'd wanted was someone who didn't mess with his stuff, and here he was making friends! He felt so lucky to have found the man.
"I'm home," he called out as he entered the apartment. Had Klauss gotten home first today?
[center “Please.” He assented regarding his offer of milk for his tea. This morning was turning out so well thus far. He had hardly paid much attention to the time himself. Crisp fluffy waffles, hot tea, and all of the fixings to complete their meal. And here they were as minutes ticked by, perfectly at ease.
Well, nearly. Malcolm’s eyes shot to the clock in the moment of Remy’s panic, lips parting on an apology for keeping him so long. He wouldn’t have to worry about the mess at all, as He didn’t intend to leave one behind. There was one thing, though... [i Kläuss.] He despised to be called by that man’s name, but he disguised it well until Remy was out of sight.
It was only then that he allowed the annoyance to play briefly over his features, a sharp exhale through the nose relieving him of just a smidge of his pent-up frustration. This was the one place it would be impossible to convince him of calling him Malcolm. After all, Kläuss had met him first.
Rising from the table once his tea was finished, he took care to clear it, putting away fruit and the leftover whipped cream before he began to rinse dishes. Malcolm made short work of the whole process before returning to his room. He didn’t have to be in for another hour and a half or so. Perfect opportunity to carefully select his attire for the day.
He reached carefully for the closet light and turned his attention to the half that was his respectively.
Another mess... except this one was nothing like the last. It almost seemed more gruesome. Perhaps even more... directed - as if some sort of goal had driven the act this time. Before, they’d been unable to pick up much motive or potential reasoning, but this seemed far more emotional in nature. Disembowelled young man, handsome, heart removed from his body.
Based upon the soil beneath him and a few other factors it was obvious he had been left to bleed out before the heart was removed. Laid carefully beside him.
“What the hell is this. This doesn’t seem like our guy. A, this guy is male, and he doesn’t even fit. Coincidental timing, maybe?”
A third detective approached then to take charge of the scene, eyes narrowing at the first two. “What’ve we got.”
“We aren’t sure. This was clearly done with a lot of emotion behind it. Almost like... revenge. See how the heart is removed. Torn, not cut, from within the body and left in the dirt. He’s also been disembowelled, and based upon what we’re seeing, the position of the innards, his posture... he likely walked here.”
“You mean our guy sliced him open and forced him to walk here?”
“It’s just s guess.”
“I’d say our first guy doesn’t have much interest in revenge. He kills for pleasure more likely. But this was clear. Direct in motive.”
“A little too direct, I think. It smells. But it could be coincidence as well. Let’s get this all processed and convene back at HQ.”
What a fucking mess. Women being snatched and brutally murdered and now this guy. It was a blessing the media wasn’t there yet to see this shit.
“Greer, I have a bad feeling about this.”
“Why’s that, sir?”
“Because I doubt this is the last. And you know what that means.”
“Panic. No one is safe. This changes things.” ]
Cute waffles? Remy giggled, surprised by the suggestion. He'd never considered waffles cute before. And yet, Klauss was right. Now that he'd said it... Remy tipped his head. They [i were] cute.
A hand in his hair. Remy stiffened, trying to fight the shiver down his spine. The contact was fleeting, but it had still caught him off-guard. Since Taylor had left, no one had touched him like that. Casually. Familiarly.
Klauss hadn't noticed. He was at the fridge, grabbing the cream. Remy recovered and went back to chopping strawberries. He finished the last of it as Klauss offered him drink options. "Oh, I'll take tea as well, thanks," he said, nodding. Tea made a nice counterpoint to waffles, a little bitter and hot.
He placed the strawberries on the waffles, carefully feathering out the slices to make an almost wing-like shape, then carried the plates over to their table and passed them out. One for him, one for Klauss. "Do you want syrup or butter?" he asked, moving to the fridge. He grabbed whichever Klauss asked for, then the milk for himself. He liked milk in his tea. It made it a little sweeter, but not too sweet. Too sweet wasn't good. Juuuust enough sweet. "Milk in your tea?"
It occurred to him that he'd forgotten to answer Klauss' question. He glanced over. "Oh, I uh, just work," he said. He had friends. Acquaintances? But things had been awkward since the whole breakup. Taylor and he had the same friend circle, and Taylor had gotten most of the friends in the breakup. It was only fair. It'd been Taylor's friend circle first. He'd just hoped...
No, it was his fault for not being more proactive and relying on Taylor so much. He should stand on his own. Had to, now.
He shook his head. Shouldn't get so depressed over breakfast! He picked up his fork and knife and started in on the waffle.
"What do you think?" he asked Klauss. He thought it was pretty tasty, but he'd defer to Klauss' judgement. It was [i his] cooking, after all. Of course he'd like it.
The tea was perfectly bitter. Remy closed his eyes and took a moment to savor it, letting the bitter tea wash down the sweet waffle. [i Perfect.] He couldn't ask for a more perfect morning--
His eyes shot open. "Oh shoot!" he snapped, jumping to his feet. What time was it? Shit! If he didn't get in within the next fifteen minutes, he'd be late! His boss would kill him! "Damn, damn, damn! Klauss, I've got to run. Uh, don't worry about cleanup, I'll take care of it--" He waved once, then vanished out the door. He'd been having so much time that he'd totally forgotten about work!
[center So nervous he seemed. Malcolm had to wonder if he was always like this. And Klauss, the lucky bastard, got to spend the most time with him. How exactly was that fair? He would most certainly have to write his... lesser half, a letter about this. Especially considering he clearly had no interest in this man. Well, okay, at the very least it paled in comparison to Malcolm’s.
He drifted over to inspect Remy’s handiwork, hovering close enough that his body heat could likely be sensed, but never close enough to brush. He was still a gentleman. No need to be so suggestive at breakfast.
Although... just a little didn’t hurt? “Fret not, I do enjoy a good dusting. They look cute, good work. And not to worry, we can forego the sausage. I’ll spare you this once.” He jested, swiping a hand gently over his soft locks.
Striding over to the fridge, he drew it open and reached in for a nicely sized ceramic bowl and peeled up the cover, setting a bowl of whipped cream out for them. Maybe they could also just leave the strawberries out in case they wanted more.
“What do you fancy to drink? Tea? Juice? I had the kettle on, but if you prefer something cooler with your breakfast, we’ve options.” He’s honestly settle for tea this morning. It would warm him up for the day ahead.
After all, he had lives to save, shit to do. Files to update. Couldn’t exactly carry on with his dailies if he showed about as much life as an overcooked egg noodle.
As he poured out the first mug, intended for himself as he awaited an answer, Malcolm noted that Remy had yet to answer his question. He couldn’t recall if they had spoken about friends.
Did he not have many? Perhaps he wasn’t very much the social type. But he seemed so sweet, so he couldn’t imagine the man being disliked. Perhaps work was a factor? Who knew.
Remy's eyes sparkled. "Thank you," he said earnestly. How kind of him. Taking the time out of his morning to make breakfast for the both of them--and such a nice breakfast at that!
He started to slice the strawberries into even, thin slices. How many to slice for two waffles? He raised his eyebrows at himself, then shrugged. Two per waffle, then an extra for luck? Sounded good to him.
"Oh, no, I couldn't ask," Remy said, shaking his head. Besides, he did have to mind his weight a little. He chuckled at Klauss' suggestion. "Lord, I hope not." He'd end up a roly-poly ball all draped in blankets if they kept this up! That, or have to pick up running again instead of just walking. And goodness knew he didn't want to do that.
Remy looked up at that, excited. "Waffles for dessert? Goodness," he said. Sounded delicious. But that was mostly because he loved waffles at any time of day.
He placed the strawberries atop the waffles, splaying them in a neat fan. Then he went back to the pantry and grabbed the powdered sugar. A little toss, and both waffles were neatly covered in a dusting of sugar, dotting the strawberries like an early snow. Remy was admiring his handiwork when it struck him: he hadn't asked Klauss his opinion on sugar! He looked up at the other man, biting his lip. "Oh, sorry, do you want sugar? I can brush it off if you don't like it."
But who didn't like strawberries and powdered sugar? It was a classic pair. Right? Remy watched Klauss' reaction nervously. He'd feel so guilty if he'd ruined Klauss' waffles for him, after all the hard work the man had put in.
[center A delighted although low-key smile came to Malcolm’s lips. He didn’t want to go scaring him, after all. Too much excitement might’ve hinted crazy - which he was not - and he wanted to very much maintain that reputation. Or lack thereof, anyway.
Already sliding the first waffle onto a plate, he answered Remy at last. “Actually, I was making them with you in mind, yes, we are definitely still on for tonight.” He already had in mind what he would prepare for the two of them.
“Have you any plans for the day? I would guess at work, as it is Friday; nothing with friends?” After all, he was happy to plan around anything else. He had waited an entire week for this occasion, and he certainly wasn’t inclined to have their plans interfere nor be interfered with.
“I would love some fruit, actually. I’m partial to strawberries on waffles, I’ll admit. Blueberries for pancakes or the compote for French toast. Do you want anything savoury with this? I’m happy to fix sausage or something - whilst I’m getting you fat and all.”
And there is was, that playful smirk that had emerged at last. “Perhaps you’ll have to roll into work a week from now if we keep this up.”
Cheeky, Malcolm was always the cheeky one, but he was sweet at heart. Definitely a romantic if you had to peg him as a ‘type’.
What exactly that would mean going forward, though, who knew, but if things turned out well he wouldn’t have Klauss mucking things up. As he so often did, with his tendencies for repression. No, thank you.
Malcolm poured out the batter for a second waffle then, noting that there would be extra. Hmm... they could still have use, yet.
“If we don’t end up eating all of this, shall we reserve them for dessert?” After all, he could freeze them and simply toast them once they were ready and turn them into something rather decadent.]
Remy opened his eyes, face-down in his pillows. Was that... pancakes? No. Slightly different. Sweet, but not quite... waffles? He sat up abruptly. Waffles? He [i loved] waffles.
Ruffling his hair to put his bedhead in something like order, he wandered to the door of his room, flicked the lock and peeked out. "Someone's in a good mood," he teased Tay--
Klauss. Right. No Taylor. Not anymore. New roommate, new rules.
A sleepy blink hid the pain that flickered over his face. "G'morning," he said. He wiped the boogers out of his eyes and yawned again, then gave Klauss a smile. "There extra for me? I love waffles."
Particularly with strawberries and powdered sugar. Or strawberries and whipped cream. Or just strawberries. Strawberries on waffles. Couldn't go wrong with that formula.
He nodded at Klauss, then ducked out of sight to get dressed. He slept in his underwear only, so he wasn't exactly presentable at the moment. Taylor might've appreciated that, but Klauss was different. A quick pass through his bathroom and wardrobe later, he wandered into the kitchen at last.
"I feel like you're trying to fatten me up," he joked, heading to the fridge to slice up some fresh strawberries. "Dinner last night, breakfast, dinner tonight... Not that I mind." He flashed a smile at Klauss. "You want any fresh fruit? I could wash some blueberries, slice some strawberries. Whatever you want."
It only felt fair to offer Klauss back some service in return for all the food. "We are still on for tonight, right?" he asked. He selected a knife from the block and started slicing. It wasn't like there was a rule against having dinner together two nights in a row, but he wanted to make sure he hadn't gotten the date wrong or whatever.
[center Once all was said and done - the kitchen tidied for the night and all of the doors and windows secured - Klauss finally submitted to the idea of heading to bed. Tomorrow was the last day of the work week - which meant plenty of rest come the weekend, he was hoping. Without further ado, he made his way into the bathroom, brushed his teeth, washed is visage, and took a good, long look at himself in the mirror. He looked different... like a stranger. Something about the eyes and... the features of his face just seemed— different.
He allowed himself a few moments more to inspect before decidedly returning to his room. He called a soft goodnight to Remus and shut his door as gently as he could manage before stripping down to change into a pair of pyjama pants.
The lady thing he felt was the pillow beneath his cheek, cool and comforting before he fell asleep.
Ahh, Fridays. The best and worst days of the week. The best because the weekend would follow, but always the longest day when you wanted nothing more than to go home.
Well, unless you were Malcolm. He lived for the entirety of them. Work always went very well, and he more often than not had fairly easy days. Not to mention, the opportunity to leave early.
As he rolled out of bed, he rubbed gently at his jaw and rolled his eyes immediately. Fucking Klauss. He was neglecting them. Useless man.
With a sharp exhale through his nose, he made his way into the bathroom, showering before he tended to the mess that was their facial hair. He opted for something nice and neat, since they did both seem to agree to at least a bit of facial hair. Knowing Klauss, he would have gone without, but Malcolm was of the mind that he looked far more distinguished with. So this was their compromise. [i Some].
Dressing in a pair of slacks and a silk button down, he made his way into the kitchen, slippers on his feet, and set about making some Belgian waffles. It was still early enough that he supposed Remus must’ve still been sleeping. He certainly hoped he would join him for breakfast. After all, they had much catching up to do. And besides, did they not have plans for tonight?
He certainly hadn’t forgotten about those, and hopefully Klauss hadn’t ruined anything in the meantime. He smiled to himself at the thought of an evening with the other man. So [i curious]. He simply had to know more!]
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