Crushing Weight of Paradise

[Sophia Kim]

Prompt List

• Introduction
• Drunk
• Prey
• Whisper
• Identity
• Fascinate
• Fear
• Clean
• Price
• Forgive

[Sophia Kim]

P R E Y

  Sophia stared at the dead creature in the alley, brushing her hands off on the knees of her jeans before standing up. She took a few steps back, avoiding getting the goo from the exploded head all over her cute, chunky five-inch platform shoes. Why had she worn white tonight? She checked her phone for the time, then sighed and casually walked to where a wooden pallet was laying on the ground. With a tug, she propped it up against the damp brick wall, then leaned against it while she waited for help to arrive.

It finally did in the form of Ash Leone and Darren Liten. "Great. I ask Danielle to send me a clean-up crew and she sends me my boss," she muttered.

"What am I, chopped liver?" Darren asked, pushing the sleeves of his black shirt up to his elbows.

"No," Sophia said, narrowing her eyes at him. "But I knew she'd send you. I just figured she wouldn't have ratted me out so easily to the man who signs my paychecks," she added. "Sorry, Ash. No offense. I just like to keep my private life private, and unfortunately, things at your bar don't stay private for very long."

Ash offered her a wry smile. "Believe me, I'm every bit as thrilled about that as you are. I'll be much happier when the "dramedy" aspect of the establishment has cooled down, but I don't think it'll happen anytime soon. Are you hurt? Danielle didn't tell me much on the phone, and I must admit, I'm not familiar with your kind enough to trust myself to heal you. That's what Layla is for."

"I'm fine, just a little sore from being tossed around. That'll teach me to help some rando from getting their brain eaten," she said, folding her arms.

"Yeeugh, those things eat brains?" Darren asked, stepping away from the body.

"It's a figure of speech, Meow Mix," Sophia sighed. "They thrive on memories - literally, they eat them. Ever known someone with a bad case of amnesia? Yeah, it was probably a Rakshasa. Fortunately, I'm the cure for what ails you in that particular department," she added, looking critically at her nails instead of at Ash and Darren. She finally glanced up, long lashes batting a few times as she smiled. "I put so much pressure on his brain from forcing all the memories that he ate up into his consciousness that I made his head explode."

Darren's face froze. "Wait. You literally... blew up his head?"

"Yep," she said cheerfully. "It's my downright explosive personality."

"Dude, you can do that? You're never digging around in my head again!" he snapped. He began walking to the body on Ash's cue, while Ash removed a large black fabric and polyurethane bag from the back of the Expedition. "Ash, what are we going to do with it? Take it home with us? Come on, man, let's just set it on fire and go."

"Well, I can't do it to you, if that's what you're asking," she said. "Qilin and Rakshasa are natural enemies. Their kind have been slowly hunting mine into extinction over the last few thousand years. And the Fae courts have declined to step in," she paused, her smile large and very not happy. "But fortunately, the older a Rakshasa is, the more memories he's stolen, and the more I can drum up." She watched as they shoved the dead creature into the body bag.

"Are you in any danger, chere?" Ash asked, adjusting the plastic in the back of the SUV before Darren set the bodybag down. He nodded to Darren, who pulled a cover over the bag; a net with Firestone fused into it - just in case things didn't like staying dead.

"Me?" Sophia asked, brows perked. "Of course, Ash. Rakshasa killed my family. Why do you think I play human when I have this amazing ability? I love being a Kirin. I'm adorable. But it's not safe for me, not yet. Not until they're all dead." She trailed off for a moment, a sad look in her eyes as she thought of her parents. "Our numbers have dwindled to the point where finding us is like finding a needle in a haystack. This wasn't typical, and I doubt we'll see another one for a lo-o-ong time." She walked past him, clapping him on the back as she did so. "Don't worry, Ash. I'm not easy prey."

Ash shook his head, turning to follow her to the SUV. He opened her door for her, and smiled, though it was a cold smile. "It's not you I'm particularly worried about, Sophia. It's them." If there was one thing Ash didn't tolerate, it was uninvited guests causing trouble in his house. Sophia was part of that house, now, and if she spoke the truth, her species dwindled to near-nothing. Maybe even single digit numbers. Ash would ensure that she, and any other Kirin that he came across, would know that they had a place.

"So, what are we going to do with this headless, creepy body? How did this dude even not get noticed, anyways?" Darren asked, backing out of the alley and onto the street. "Shapeshifter?"

"I imagine so," Ash said, answering for Sophia, who had taken to staring down at her phone, but not really paying attention to it. She may have put up a tough image, but he knew that killing a Rakshasa was personal for her, and he would let her reflect on it. "As for what we are going to do with it, Danielle has informed me that some ghouls have taken up residence in an abandoned lot not far from here. We are going to offer them a meal."

"Oh, Jesus, are you serious?" Darren exclaimed. "More and more I come to understand what it is Danielle sees in you," he hissed to himself. "Unbelievable."

"Just drive, Darren," Ash said, his tone a cross between exasperation and boredom. Inwardly, he smiled a little. Perhaps Darren wasn't the only individual who was capable of "growing a set", as his lovely girlfriend had put it.

[Sophia Kim]

F E A R

Sophia stood on the subway platform, clutching her oversized bag tightly with her fist. She hadn't thought any of this through, really, and that was apparent now more than ever to her as she realized the only thing keeping her awake was pure adrenaline. She hadn't had a moment this bad in a while. Glancing to the digital clock on the wall behind her, she tried to force herself to count the minutes until the train would arrive. Where was she going? She hadn't gotten that far, really. She just knew she had to keep moving, but she had no true direction in which she wanted to go. So she'd done this - circled the city endlessly on the main loop, for a few hours now.

It had all started when Nicolette dropped a box in front of her in the archives. She hadn't really told her what it was, just said to make sure nothing happened to it, and went about her business. Nobody really tried to talk to Sophia anymore. They had, at first, but quickly realized the only person she felt comfortable speaking with was Taro, and even then, that was tentative. It depended on nothing anyone could discern from outside appearances, and solely rested on how crowded he made Sophia feel. Lately, it had been very.

She had looked inside the box as soon as Nicolette was gone, because she was traumatized, not stupid, and jerked back like she'd been bitten by what she'd seen inside. Genie lamp. The hand-written notes stuffed into the packing peanuts gave her a brief acquisition history of the lamp - Jinn, undetermined age, probably pre-Ottoman at least, with a short-hand account of the trouble they'd had getting it, and a list of (supposed) hands it had been run through prior to ending up where it had. She stood, circling the table as her mind began to race. Why would they need a jinn? Oh, Sophia knew what one was; she was a kirin, so she was keenly aware of other stupidly powerful creatures that existed. She'd never seen one, nor had anyone else in her family that she knew, but then again, it wasn't like they spoke about their time on the earth outside of what to keep away from, so she couldn't really be certain, could she? Still, why would Diamond need a jinn?

She didn't even realize what she was doing until she'd done it. Honestly, she hadn't planned to abscond into the night with the artifact, but something in her refused to leave without it. She'd called Taro and told him she wanted to go back to her apartment, which she hadn't been to since the attack - and it had been months, but he wouldn't refuse her. He did argue with her, so she'd gladly taken the invitation to fight and accused him of treating her like glass, telling him to leave until she called for him again. That had gone over swimmingly, and she'd been left, suddenly, very alone outside of the door of her apartment, lamp stuffed into her shoulder bag. Taro had no idea.

She couldn't stay, though, which she quickly found out as she had a panic attack as soon as she'd gotten as far as the dining area. There was still the scent of cleaning chemicals in the air from where Taro had gone through the apartment with Ash and tried to get rid of all the blood. They'd replaced the carpet and some of the furniture, hoping it would make the transition easier, but she still couldn't feel safe there, and so she'd been staying with Taro in the meantime. Now, she couldn't go back to his place, and honestly she didn't want to, feeling some anger inside overtaking her fear. She grabbed a few things and stuffed them into the bag, glad to have purchased such a stupidly large purse, and headed back out, not even bothering to lock the door behind her. She didn't plan on coming back.

That, of course, had led her to the present - as she boarded the train that was sure to burn a few hours time, she felt fatigue replacing the fear that had been driving her. She needed time to think, and she felt obligated to stay moving while she did so. She'd expertly discarded her phone, breaking the sim out and dropping it in a trash can outside of her building and then flinging the other portions of it along the way to the subway entrance. She had cash, so she could reasonably get a room for a night or two, but she didn't know precisely where that would be. Everywhere she could think of was connected to someone by only a few degrees. Really, what was it with this fucking place and all the people in it?

Still, she couldn't risk anyone using whatever was inside that lamp for their own purposes. She knew what it was like to be strung up with wire for your abilities, and she couldn't abide it happening to anyone else, regardless of what they were. She'd have lost her mind if she'd known that Midnight had briefly held a unicorn, so it was probably better that nobody had told her. She looked up, scanning the list of stops on the route, and fixed her eyes on one in particular.

"Fuck it," she said aloud to the empty car. "Fuck it, we're going to Coney Island."

[Sophia Kim]

 

W H I S P E R

Bariq had never known himself to have what was considered a sweet tooth, but there was something about sugar this time around that he couldn't put his finger on. From his first taste of cotton candy fresh out of a long stint in his own personal hell to the current, where he waited patiently outside of the cafe for his tiny friend to return with something she called "bubble tea", he had found it more enjoyable than ever before. It was the artificial, amped up, and technicolor of all of it, he supposed.

He flipped through a magazine while he sat in the metal chair, dark eyes absently scrolling over horoscopes. Ridiculous. The following page featured hot pink font proclaiming FIFTY TIPS TO MAKE HIM YOUR SLAVE IN THE BEDROOM, and he let out an audible snort. He closed it, tossing it onto the table as he glanced over his shoulder to see what was taking so long. Through the glass door, he could see Sophia in line. Her expression was blank, but he saw her toss her long reddish hair over her shoulder, and he knew from her body language that she was irritated. Another second of studying the situation clarified the source of her pain - the man in front of her was ordering a multitude of drinks and asking as many questions.

As though she felt him staring at her, her dark eyes flitted from the nothing that she'd been focused on to his, and she tilted her head slightly. In a blink-and-you-miss-it moment, he saw her mouth curl into a smile. Then, she went back to looking straight ahead, sagging her shoulders as she let out a deep sigh. He sat back a little, head straightening out, and closed his eyes. He'd never met a Kirin before, but he wondered if they were all as timid as she was. Of course, Sophia was anything but timid typically, but she was handling this with a certain delicacy that was unfamiliar even to her. He could tell that she wasn't usually so reserved, but he didn't want to press the issue with a thousand questions. He knew she'd experienced something deeply traumatic, but he didn't know what it was, because she hadn't told him, and he wasn't a guessing man with such things.

At once, he felt a sharpness at his back; it was magic, and he knew the flavour of it: Fae. He glanced over his shoulder, locking eyes with a man who casually slurped on something frozen and blue - loudly. The man nodded his head only just enough for Bariq to catch it, and the magic reeled back like it had never been there in the first place. At his side, talking a mile a minute, was a small blonde woman with bright blue eyes who was animated like she'd been given too much caffeine.

"I wonder if she's got it with her. Do you think she carries it on her person? I mean, I would, but I don't know what her motivations are," she was saying, moving her hands as she spoke. She looked like she was auditioning for Broadway.

"Don't know her motives?" Link echoed, a sneer (different from his usual sneer) flashing across his mouth. "Are you dense? She's probably wishing the bitch that put her in a coma is burning in hell forever right now," he countered. "And besides, maybe she just took it for safe keeping. The way Taro talk about her, she's not the type to just run off with an artifact for world domination."

"It doesn't matter why she took it, Link. It just matters that we get it back!" she said, punching his arm and nearly knocking his drink out of his hand. "Before she summons the djinn."

"Yeah, that would be a real tragedy," the Fae said flatly, stepping out of her reach before she tried to hit him again. "I'm just gonna sit here and enjoy myself. You have fun canvassing the block. Hope your GPS tracking is right, otherwise we're out here for nothing and I'm missing my stories." And with that, he dropped into a chair at a single table next to where Bariq sat. It was painfully obvious that he had already spotted the djinn; it was also becoming obvious that he had no dog in the fight at hand, and was merely along for the ride.

Nicolette rolled her eyes. "Fine, stay there. You're useless anyways. I'll find her myself." She spun on her heel and went in the opposite direction of the cafe.

As Bariq assessed the situation, the Fae finally spoke, though he didn't make a point to look at him while he did so, not wanting to attract the attention of Nicolette back their way. "This should go well," he said, his facial expression punctuating his feelings perfectly. He leaned back in his chair, loudly slurping on his drink. He figured that where the djinn was, Sophia would be close by, and he was right. He saw her at the register, paying for whatever she'd gotten inside. He let the chair drop back down onto all four legs, the sound loud as it slammed back down onto the concrete. "You've got about two minutes before she realizes what's going on and comes back this way," he said, now looking over at Bariq.

"Why are you telling me?" he asked, arching a brow. He appreciated the warning, but he was naturally distrustful of everyone. This man was no exception - his kind were always deceptive.

Link nodded, understanding the skepticism. "Because I like Sophia. And I don't like Taro. And the longer she's in the wind, the more it drives him crazy, which only benefits me, because he plays shitty poker when he's upset, and he bets a lot more than he should." The Fae offered a smile that didn't meet his eyes, then raised the drink back to his mouth and took a long, loud slurp of it.

Bariq chuckled, the sound a rumble in his chest. That was perhaps the most believable thing the man could have told him. He nodded, sucking his teeth as he considered things. "Alright," he said. He stood, the chair scraping against the ground as he got up. He was a big dude - he wasn't stupidly tall like Gareth was - but he was Link's height at least. He was just somewhat more broad, and the casual shirt he wore looked like Sophia might have deliberately dried it on high heat (she had).

As Sophia came out of the cafe, one bubble tea held close to her with the other extended to Bariq, a loud, "A-HAH!" came from across the street. Sophia looked up, since she had no idea what had transpired in her absence, her dark eyes widening considerably as she saw the Therrayan storming towards her. She winced as a car slammed on its brakes, then winced more as Nicolette slammed her hands down on the hood of the Mercedes and yelled something vulgar at the driver.

"Shit," she said. She shook the tea at Bariq, finally looking over at him and nodding for him to take it. "What do I do?"

He took the tea from her, his hand clasping over hers for a brief moment. "I'm not going back in that bottle," he said, and his tone suggested that "what do I do" meant "whatever you have to do". Some understanding passed between them that Link didn't recognize, but he perked up in his chair, waiting to see how this would play out.

"You!" Nicolette said, finally on the sidewalk. She marched straight up to Sophia, a mixture of anger and hurt on her face. "You thief! I trusted you!" She reached out, jabbing at Sophia with her index finger.

"I'm not a thief - OW, hey!" Sophia said, finally slapping Nicolette's hand away in a surprisingly aggressive gesture. "You can't steal something that didn't belong to someone else to begin with," she said, her voice firm. "And we - magical creatures - aren't property," she hissed, waving her tea hand at herself and Bariq to indicate they were the creatures in question.

"Yeah yeah yeah - listen, I get it, and I sympathize and all that, but - I really need him," she said, pointing at Bariq, "to get back in the bottle, because I've got an archive that thing needs to be in, like yesterday. There can't be an unbound djinn just loose in New York. Loose anywhere, really. Didn't you learn anything when you were staking out our artifacts room? They're too power, and - no offense - way too amoral."

"I'm not unbound," Bariq said, phrasing the statement like he was confused as to why she'd think otherwise. "How could I be standing here if I were?"

"You're not unbound?" she asked, and there was something in her tone of voice that said plainly she didn't believe him.

"No, of course not. That would be impossible," he said. He squinted at her like she was crazy, then put his arm around Sophia (which comically made her shoulders look more like an arm rest than anything else). "Who is this crazy friend of yours? I think she's been in the sun too long," he said, deliberately dropping his voice as he spoke to Sophia.

"We're going," Sophia said flatly. "Leave us alone."

Nicolette was utterly dumbfounded as they walked away. She ignored Link's quiet laughter, feeling mixed emotions colour her cheeks. She couldn't ever really understand what Sophia was so mad about because, well, she just wasn't in that endangered exclusive club. And she had liked her, but she had a mission to be a Therrayan first - whatever the cost. "I think they're lying," she said quietly.

"Nicolette, I've been around a long time, and if you ask me, there's some stuff you should just let go," Link advised. There was no venom to his voice; it seemed he was actually trying to give her good advice, for once.

"Well, I didn't ask you," she snapped. Did she go back to Diamond and explain that she'd failed? Or, worse, lie and say that she hadn't exhausted every avenue? What had the book said about binding? She could remember the words, couldn't she? She closed her eyes, reaching back to the text, and her mouth began to move, reciting the words from memory.

Bariq's hand gripped Sophia's shoulder hard suddenly; he felt that sensation again at the back of his neck, but this time he hadn't been expecting it. It had been the Fae again, but this was different. Not probing - a warning. "Hey!" Sophia cried, nearly dropping her tea. She danced out of his grip, turning to face him with an annoyed expression. "You trying to cave my bones in?" she asked. Her shoulder was throbbing.

"That bitch is trying to bind me!" he hissed, glancing over his shoulder at the blonde. He looked back at Sophia, studying her expression, which he found he couldn't read. It was against every fiber of his being to tell her to do something, but he also didn't want to go back into that stupid bottle.

"Do it," he commanded.

"What?" she crowed.

"You know."

"No, I don't" she said, stepping back from him. He reached out and caught her by the wrist.

"You do," he said, tone firm. "Do it," he said again.

Because one night, when she'd finally fallen asleep in the chaise lounge of the hotel room she had been staying in - because she'd graciously given him the bed, and she hadn't told him she had an apartment (or that she was scared to go back to it), she had learned the trick to bind him. Because, unbeknownst to Sophia, she talked in her sleep, and that night she'd said simply, "I wish you didn't have to go." It had been in response to him saying he was going to the lobby for a snack, as stupid as that was. He'd gone to sit by her, quiet for a while as he debated the validity of her request. The magical laws that governed him compelled him to speak, and he'd leaned over and whispered to her: "All you have to do is say my name," and then told her his name - his true name, not what he went by - and all the while, she was completely asleep, and didn't remember a thing. It wasn't his job to bring it up, either, and so he didn't, thinking that maybe he'd needed a little humbling by the stupid way in which it had all come about.

The truth was that Sophia didn't want to bind him. She didn't want to bind anyone. It was part of the reason that he had been so relieved that it had been her who had come across his little ornate prison and set him out on the world again. She wouldn't abuse it, because she didn't want it. He reckoned he'd been slave to many who had wanted him only for what he could give them. It was strange, being in the service of someone who didn't want him at all, but it was oddly liberating in a way. He could stand a little humility, anyways. As far as his kind went, he was well-regarded, and he knew it.

She looked past him at Nicolette, then saw Link waving his hands at them as if to tell them to figure it the fuck out, and sighed. Without any further protest, she raised up onto her tip-toes, pulling her wrist towards herself, and by extension, pulling her friend down to her height. She leaned forward to his ear, tilting her head. The scent of cotton candy filled his nose as she drew in closer than she'd ever been before. She whispered something into his ear - the same thing he'd whispered to her that night, when she'd been asleep.

  Not even a half second after, he felt a tickling sensation as a spell bounced off of him, missing its mark. Then, of course, came the frustrated cry of defeat. He didn't bother to turn around, instead focusing on Sophia. "Don't ever let anyone tell you that you've got poor delivery skills," he said, all of the seriousness drained from his tone. She didn't meet his eyes, looking at her shoes, her nails - anything else. She clearly had not taken the decision lightly, and she did not appreciate being backed into a corner, which he could appreciate. But still - there were worse alternatives. One such was being led away by the arm by a dark Fae who was interested in going home, presumably to win more money off a lovesick vampire.

"I just want to go home," she said finally, after they walked in silence for a while. She hadn't wanted to hold his hand or poke at his sides the way she usually did, or ask what he thought about the tea - in fact, she'd tossed hers in the trash almost immediately after "it" happened. Now, the relationship they had was purely plutonic, but Sophia was a very affectionate creature, and this was - well. She was humbling the fuck out of him right then, more or less.

"Alright," he agreed, tone light. "You know, this is happening to me, too," he said. He was too patient to chastise her, but he felt it would be worth reminding her at the very least. He hadn't known her for long, but he had observed a huge tendency to retreat into her own head, which was unhealthy given the things he was learning about how she'd gotten to where she was. She stopped walking so suddenly that he almost got a few feet on her before he realized it, and had to back up to where she'd been rooted to the spot.

"You're right," she said. "You're right," she said again, covering her face to hide the mixture of emotion running across it. She removed her hands, offering him a forced smile. "I'm sorry. Let's go home. I'll cook." And with that, she took his hand, completely altering her disposition. That wasn't what he'd wanted either - he was aware that now he had been bound to her he could 'see' a lot further into the range of feelings she had, and it actually shocked him how much she had actively repressed up until now. He followed wordlessly, chewing thoughtfully on the tapioca "bubbles" inside his drink, trying to figure out how to uncomplicate the next chapter of his very long life.

[Sophia Kim]

C L E A N

Living with Bariq was challenging to say the least. The new apartment was nice, and far more spacious than the last one had been, which was good because they were people who didn't necessarily need to be in the same room all the time. As Sophia had started to come (back) into her own, finally accepting that the events that had occurred the previous year had ultimately changed her in some ways that were irreversible, she began to find her voice again. And that voice was mostly used for arguing. Loudly. In Korean.

Bariq, finally able to stretch his legs and take a load off, with the constant worry about being bound to some crazed human bent on trying to cause interplanetary chaos, had also found his voice - though, it hadn't ever really been lost. More like, he finally had the space to speak his thoughts freely without fear of being stuffed back into some tiny bottle. And that voice was also mostly used for arguing. Loudly. In Arabic. And the more passionately he argued, the older his dialect got, until Aramaic was in full stereo.

To them, it seemed normal. They were both incredibly expressive people, who came from heavily expressive cultures. And since they could understand eachother regardless of the language they were speaking, thanks to that magical cement that bound them, it never really occurred that to an outsider, it sounded like the New World Axis Powers deciding how best to attack their enemies. Currently, what was a routine "discussion" (screaming match) was ongoing, and whoever happened by in the hall probably thought that a domestic situation was about to erupt, when actually, it was far more simple.

"When you're done with the dish," Bariq said, gesturing with exaggeration to the plate in his hand, "you rinse it, and you put it in the dishwasher. You don't just leave it in the sink." He spoke clearly, loudly, in what was more or less Farsi. "You rinse the dish, and then it goes in the dishwasher," he repeated again, demonstrating.

Sophia stood in the living room, rooted to the spot she'd been in when this confrontation had begun. She still had her magazine in her hand and an unopened soda in the other, both of which had now become props for her to gesture with. She was halfway between the couch and the sliding glass door, where her intent had been to go outside and listen to music while reading, but no, she was getting a lesson in domesticity from Bariq.

"Then what is the point of having the dishwasher?" she asked, each word spoken slowly and deliberately, volume raising as she got to the end of her question. "Why am I paying for a dishwasher if I'm WASHING the dishes BEFORE THEY GO in the dishwasher?" She waved the hand with the magazine angrily.

"BECAUSE IT'S NOT GOING TO PRESSURE WASH TWO DAY OLD EGG OFF YOUR PLATE!" he exploded. "IT'S STUCK! STUCK ON LIKE BUGS TO THE FRONT OF THE CAR IN THE SUMMER!"

"IF IT CAN'T CLEAN THE DISHES THEN WHY DO WE HAVE IT?"

He exhaled through his nose, then set the plate down with a loud click. "Allah, please forgive her, she is so stupid," Bariq said, closing his eyes and making a praying gesture. "Years of television have rotted her brain."

"HEY!" she screamed. He barely had time to duck before she'd loosed the magazine at him, but he managed. The Cosmo was swatted down right before it hit his face, his muscular arm stopping what was sure to be, at the very least, closer than he ever wanted to be to J-Lo's crotch.

"YOU HEY!" he yelled back. He began to advance on her, but she stood her ground, her posture menacing. She began shaking her can of Coke violently.

"Don't do it, Sophia, I just cleaned in here, don't you fucking - "

"Wash dishes, Sophia! Vacuum, Sophia!" she said, her tone mocking as she imitated him. "I am not the maid!"

"YOU'RE THE ONLY ONE WHO MAKES MESSES!" he yelled, his voice high pitched as he threw his hands up in disbelief. "If anything, I'M the maid!" He reached out for the can as she pointed it at him, snatching it from her in his large hand just as she managed to get one of her acrylics under the tab. The pulling gesture as he yanked it from her caused it to open, showering him directly in the face with cold, dark carbonated sugar.

Her eyes went wide as she put her hands to her face, in what was actually genuine shock. They were both quiet; him, stunned and seething, and Sophia, purely unable to respond.

"Don't laugh," he warned her. "Do not laugh."

"I'm not laughing," she insisted, still speaking into her hands that covered her mouth - to hide the fact that she was trying not to laugh.  Knocking on the door saved her, thankfully, but as she turned to answer it, Bariq put the hand that didn't have the can in it up to stop her. They weren't expecting anyone, so naturally, he was immediately on guard. Fortunately, she elected not to argue about that, and backed off. "I'll get a towel," she said quietly.

Bariq, still drenched in Coke, opened the door, not bothering to look in the peep hole. He'd seen too many movies recently where someone took a knife to the eye, and eye gore wasn't his idea of a good time. He was surprised, though, when the person on the other side of the door was somewhat familiar to him. Hadn't he seen him in the elevator a few times before?

"Uh... hey," the guy said, an apprehensive look on his face. "I'm Jay, and I live down the hall." When Bariq just stared at him, he continued. "Look, I - uh, I understand what you're saying when you're yelling - most of the time, anyways, you got kind of a rural thing going on with your accent, but whatever - the rest of the neighbors don't know that you're literally trying to explain to your girlfriend the importance of not eating food off of the floor and stuff, so they kind of - "

"You speak Farsi?" Bariq asked, disregarding everything else he'd said to that point.

Sophia appeared next to Bariq, towel in hand, which she just pressed into his beard wordlessly as she stared at Jay. "Do they think we're terrorists?" she interrupted. The man's shocked facial expression at her directness did not go missed by Jay.

"I mean - valid, but no, they think you guys are married and also he abuses you," he said, equally direct. He glanced at the man. "And yeah, I understand you. I definitely do not share your passion about the importance of Lysol, though."

"She hits me!" Bariq said. "Look at what she did to me!" he insisted, holding up the can of soda. "And disinfecting surfaces is very important," he added, his voice stern.

"Yeah.... look. You guys are fucking loud, and I live down the hall, so like, literally everyone in this building can hear you. Which is why they think there's some DV happening in here. So maybe quit screaming at eachother about the house work and hire Molly Maid, or something," he said flatly. "I'm sure you're very nice people who absolutely should not be living together, but I'm just here on behalf of everyone who has to suffer this."

Simultaneously, Bariq said, "What's Molly Maid?" while Sophia said, "I'm not paying for a maid."

Jay passed his hand through his long, dark hair and nodded. "Right, well I'll leave you two to figure that out. Enjoy being exhausting, let's never do this again." He gave them a smile, and then turned, nodded to himself, and walked away.

When the man had left, they shut the door and just stared at eachother for a few moments in total silence.

"I want this Molly Maid," he said finally.

"Yeah, I'll call and set it up," she agreed.