Wilford Warfstache (
cottoncandypink) wrote2019-07-07 05:56 pm
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Tess
The door does not open up to the condo, unfortunately. Because Wilford has not been to the condo since the last time he brought someone through the door. It opens up from his office, into an area nebulously defined as a dining room.
At least, there is a table there, which someone has taken a passing effort to keep clear. The stack of mail, hastily picked up toys, and a couple of coats on the table suggest nobody does any eating at the table.
The house is what passes as small in the neighbourhood. Windows look out on the sloping hills and sprawling city in the distance. Inside, brushed steel kitchen, slate grey walls, and leather furniture are betrayed by tiny hand smudges on the windows, peanut butter stains in the carpet, crayon scribbles in places that nobody seems to have the energy to deal with.
The house is also unusually quiet. How interesting.
At least, there is a table there, which someone has taken a passing effort to keep clear. The stack of mail, hastily picked up toys, and a couple of coats on the table suggest nobody does any eating at the table.
The house is what passes as small in the neighbourhood. Windows look out on the sloping hills and sprawling city in the distance. Inside, brushed steel kitchen, slate grey walls, and leather furniture are betrayed by tiny hand smudges on the windows, peanut butter stains in the carpet, crayon scribbles in places that nobody seems to have the energy to deal with.
The house is also unusually quiet. How interesting.
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She smiles a little at the obvious signs of Michael's presence.
"Is he home?"
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"I don't know," he says, heading down the stairs to the ground level.
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She suggests. She looks around a little while Wilford is figuring things out.
"A good steamer will take these stains out."
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He probably doesn't mean it.
Downstairs is just as empty as the upstairs is, and when he opens the garage door, he's not exactly surprised to find his car gone.
"You coming, or what?" he shouts up, making sure he has Celine's spare key on his ring.
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She calls back, walking down the stairs leaving a waft of papers in her wake.
Peeking into the garage, she frowns.
"We're going in that?"
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He unlocks the car and walks around to the driver's side.
"And when they get home, you're going to get me yelled at for this mess you're making."
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That's a point in Celine's favour.
She climbs into the passenger seat awkwardly but does her best to get comfortable.
"I apologize. If I could control it, we wouldn't be here."
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Wilford thinks Celine takes him more often than she should, but it's not her job to deal with troubled toddlers. It's probably the only way she can get him to behave when they're on their own.
He starts up the car and uses his phone to open the garage door so he can back out. The garage was already stuffy to begin with, but as soon as the door opens, a blast of hot air pours in.
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So there's nothing wrong with wanting to live at the aquarium.
"Put the top up!"
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They're working on it.
He starts to back out, and taps at his phone again - first to close the garage, and then to open the gate at the bottom of the driveway.
"It's not going to make much difference with you blowing around like that."
At least with the top down, the wind will be predictable.
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Normally she likes the heat, but her hormones are out of whack and right now it's unappealing.
"Put the top up."
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Bossy women on all sides of him. He raises the top and backs out onto the road. The neighbourhood isn't in the obscenely upper class area, but there's still a lot of money in the houses on the street.
If Tess' stupid hurricane gets in Wilford's face, he's lowering the top again. But for now, he just turns on the AC and starts heading down the hill.
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"How far away are we?"
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"About a half hour," he says. "Depends on what traffic on Sheldon's like."
There isn't a single straight, level road in the entire neighbourhood. As soon as they're going, it's all twists and turns and hills. The little Banshee was made for this.
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After about ten minutes, she grabs her stomach.
"Pull over!"
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Wilford pulls over the first chance he gets where they're not likely to get smashed into by someone rounding a curve.
"What's going on?" Why the sudden urgency?
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Hey, it was your idea to transport a pregnant woman, Wilford.
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Tess didn't mention puking would be a thing. Wilford slams on the hazards and leans away, hoping Tess opens the door in time.
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She flings open the door as soon as they've stopped and stumbles out before letting loose on the ground. It lasts a few minutes, then she coughs some and wipes at her eyes. Once she's sure she's done, she climbs back in the car.
"Thank you."
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"The fuck was that?" he asks once she's back in the car.
Besides gross.
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She looks at him like it should be obvious.
"Which is a god damned lie because it happens whenever it wants to."
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He doesn't start up again, just in case.
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Everyone knows this.
"It's just a fact of being pregnant."
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Does Wilford look like a pregnant woman? He has had no reason in his life to know this stuff.
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"I"m not sick, I'm pregnant. Which, for the first trimester, includes throwing up at random intervals."
She motions him to go.
"I should be fine for a while now."
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