borntolead:

It was a good thing that Charlie didn't have classes on Tuesdays. Because he certainly would missed all of them. Groggily, he rolled out of bed, and looked over at the clock. Almost two-thirty. Yawning, he picked a shirt that was lying on up off the floor of his room and a pair of jeans hanging off of his bed, and threw them on.

Running a hand through his hair, he made his way into the kitchen of the Mansion and started fixing some breakfast. Or lunch.

quitethecharmer:

As a general rule, men do not like being involved with moving people's stuff besides their own. Moving other people's stuff subjects them to being on the receiving end of a very large number of demands and at the mercy of their own indecisions as to where things should go.

Vincent wasn't currently regretting promising to help Andrea move, but he was reserving the right to do so. It wasn't that he was fatigued by anything he was having to carry, but the number of items made the procedure tedious. She seemed to have an endless collection of figurines and other collectibles. Being that it was only being moved from one floor of the building to the other, there was also none of the usual reasonable 'excuse' to let boxes remain unpacked for a while. Everything was being repositioned, and in a few cases, extra shelves were being put up.

There was also the fact that all of her boxes were labelled with bar-codes she had printed, making them somewhat less than intelligible to others. Vincent shook his head as he opened another box. "I see.. notebooks. Where do these go?" He looked over to his girlfriend.