With a pointed look, Erin pushed in the quarters, pressed colors, and,

"Voilà." Erin smiled though, because her own mother said that it wasn't real laundry, having buttons to push that told you what to do. But at the end of the day, her clothes were clean and they smelled nice, so, really? Erin didn't find a problem with it. "I suppose if you can't read, this would be a problem, but I think you're safe."

She gestured to Rafe's machine, knowing that all this muggle stuff may be a bit overwhelming (the pinball machine in the corner was making lots and lots of noise and flashing lights), but, well, she'd offered. And if she could teach a guy to do his own laundry (Will was such a pain, but he was getting there. Slowly.), then she'd done her good deed for the day. Adding onto the fact that doing laundry by herself was never much fun, especially when she didn't have a book or anything.

...augh, seriously. Laundry shouldn't be the highlight of her week. She was almost twenty-one, that was just sad, right? Merlin's beard.

"Go on, I promise it won't explode."