Rafe blinked in confusion when she stopped him. There was an incorrect way to even but the clothes in the bloody thing? Bugger all.
And balls. That smile was just plain unfair. It made him feel all the more ignorant about laundry. But he couldn't bring himself to be annoyed with that smile. Honestly. She was a bloody trickster.
He watched dumbly - eyebrows raised and arms still holding up the second scoop of dirty laundry - as Erin extracted the other pile and dumped it onto the washer. He frowned as she pointed and ordered him to sorting.
Whites? Colours? "Barmy," Rafe said under his breath before adding the clothes in his arms to the unsorted mass. He then set to work, lazily tossing socks and underpants to one washer and the rest to another while doing his best to ignore the riper pieces. Though he couldn't help but give a groan and cough of protest when he came across a particularly stinky item.
"Maybe I should just buy new ones," he edged out in a strained tone as he was cringing over a set of Quidditch practice underclothes. He figured there was no way that any amount of water and soap could make it any better.
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