Walking into the living room, she saw a stunned Marcel Smith, holding a pistol in one hand and a magazine in the other. His eyes slightly widened, eyebrows furrowed in contemplation as if considering something.
Flossie Wright didn't pay any attention to him.
"Did you charge it?"
Drying her wet hair, Flossie looked up and asked casually.
"Charge what," Marcel, regaining his composure, continued to speak provocatively, "On this long, lonely night, a man and a woman sharing a room, it'd be a fiery affair if we don't do something..."
Flossie ignored him.
She walked past him, took her phone, and went into the bedroom.
There was a charger in the bedroom; she had just noticed it.
"Hey-"
Marcel was disgruntled and followed her in.
The phone was off because the battery died. Flossie took the charger, plugged it into the power strip, and turned the phone back on.
"You're going to contact the Forces?"
With his arms crossed, standing beside her, Marcel asked casually.
"Sleep."
