Post by Callie Black on Jan 28, 2007 11:03:55 GMT -5
Callie yawned, half stumbling down the stairs. She swore, pulling her dressing gown more tightly around her. The light was blinding, it felt like midday. But it wasn't... it was... um... what time was it anyway?
She stepped lightly into the wooden hall, hearing a hiss as she narrowly avoided Smoggy's tail.
"Grumpy old git," she spat at him. "You should be wide awake- it's bloody morning."
The cat stared up haughtily, and stalked off, tail held aloft. She stared after him, frowning. Sometimes, she really wondered if cats could understand the English language- even if they chose to ignore it for the most part.
Callie walked into the kitchen, sitting herself down on one of the stools. She rubbed her eyes groggily. Sunday... Sunday... sleepy Sunday... Wait, that's not the saying. There definitely was a saying- wasn't there?
Suddenly, she heard a stomping of feet and Harry came from the bottom of the stairs. She couldn't help but smile at him as he yawned and stretched. He was wearing a casual shirt, with dark jeans and his hair looked dark and tousled. Becoming very self-consious of her own mess of curls, she shied away from him and started pulling out cornflakes and busying herself with toast.
Harry folded his arms and leant on the door frame, watching her. "Callie?"
"Um..." she half-laughed, smiling brightly at him. "Hey! Want some?"
"It's 3 o' clock in the afternoon," smiled Harry. "To be honest, I thought you were dead."
She groaned. "Seriously?"
"Seriously," he said, pointing to the giant cat clock Lisa had lugged home on her last outting to her Papa's, her Papa being Harry's dad.
"Where is she?"
"She went to the park with Jeremy, he took her to the little one beside your mum's place."
"Oh, yes," she nodded. "Shore Park?"
"Bingo," he smiled, looking her up and down. "Feel up to a shower?"
"Too cold," she groaned, rubbing her temple.
"Bath?"
"I'd go back to sleep and drown."
"Basin?"
"The face cloths are in the dryer. Remember when Lisa tried to coat them in chocolate?"
"So you won't wash at all?"
"Probably not."
"Minger," he grinned. "Go on, have a shower."
"But I don't want to!" she huffed. "I'll freeze to death!"
He laughed, leaning towards her. "Not if I keep you warm."
She stared up at him, and grinned sheepishly. "Shower?"
"Now she gets it!" he laughed.
She stepped lightly into the wooden hall, hearing a hiss as she narrowly avoided Smoggy's tail.
"Grumpy old git," she spat at him. "You should be wide awake- it's bloody morning."
The cat stared up haughtily, and stalked off, tail held aloft. She stared after him, frowning. Sometimes, she really wondered if cats could understand the English language- even if they chose to ignore it for the most part.
Callie walked into the kitchen, sitting herself down on one of the stools. She rubbed her eyes groggily. Sunday... Sunday... sleepy Sunday... Wait, that's not the saying. There definitely was a saying- wasn't there?
Suddenly, she heard a stomping of feet and Harry came from the bottom of the stairs. She couldn't help but smile at him as he yawned and stretched. He was wearing a casual shirt, with dark jeans and his hair looked dark and tousled. Becoming very self-consious of her own mess of curls, she shied away from him and started pulling out cornflakes and busying herself with toast.
Harry folded his arms and leant on the door frame, watching her. "Callie?"
"Um..." she half-laughed, smiling brightly at him. "Hey! Want some?"
"It's 3 o' clock in the afternoon," smiled Harry. "To be honest, I thought you were dead."
She groaned. "Seriously?"
"Seriously," he said, pointing to the giant cat clock Lisa had lugged home on her last outting to her Papa's, her Papa being Harry's dad.
"Where is she?"
"She went to the park with Jeremy, he took her to the little one beside your mum's place."
"Oh, yes," she nodded. "Shore Park?"
"Bingo," he smiled, looking her up and down. "Feel up to a shower?"
"Too cold," she groaned, rubbing her temple.
"Bath?"
"I'd go back to sleep and drown."
"Basin?"
"The face cloths are in the dryer. Remember when Lisa tried to coat them in chocolate?"
"So you won't wash at all?"
"Probably not."
"Minger," he grinned. "Go on, have a shower."
"But I don't want to!" she huffed. "I'll freeze to death!"
He laughed, leaning towards her. "Not if I keep you warm."
She stared up at him, and grinned sheepishly. "Shower?"
"Now she gets it!" he laughed.