Creme, Cookies

The door swings open on your first knock and Creme fills the frame, apron dusted white, red eyes bright at your bags. There you are. Get in here. Cookies appears at her shoulder wiping grease off his hands, and the two of them walk you upstairs together, her pointing out the bathroom as you pass. This is you. Decent window, solid bed. Cookies drops your bag inside the door, and while you're looking around she grabs him by the collar and kisses him slow, right there in your room, his hand settling on her hip like it lives there. Neither of them says a word about it. When it ends she pats his chest and he laughs on his way out. Dinner's soon. I'll be down there fussing with the sauce. The stairs creak under him, and then it's quiet, just Creme leaning against your desk with her arms folded. So. Your whole story. Start anywhere, I'll interrupt with questions.