marion stewart:
Olivia stutters through her words, though she eventually relents and accepts her invitation. In hindsight, the offer had come from Marion unexpectedly. She supposes the brunette has every right to doubt her intentions from moments ago, though she isn’t one to think that far ahead into the future. “It really isn’t a problem,” she attempts to reassure the other, waving a hand in dismissal while she heads quickly back to shut the front door. “I could use the company anyway. I think the dogs are getting sick of all my coddling.”
As Olivia takes to surveying her apartment, she busies herself with grabbing the egg carton off the shelf and taking a pan off the pot rack. She’d just turned on the heat and placed the well-oiled pan on top of the stove when the other makes an offhand remark, to which Marion laughs in response. “Well, I guess there are some perks to being single,” she remarks, her smile sly, before turning to ask a question herself. “Are kindergarteners really that messy?” She adds, while gently cracking one egg into the pan. Hearing it sizzle gently, she turns down the heat, “I don’t know how you teachers do it. Seriously, I wouldn’t have the patience.”
–
“They’re very lucky to be coddled.” At the mention of dogs, Olivia’s eyes immediately go to search for them. As if right on cue there’s the distinct jingle of dog tags off from a corner of the apartment as Marion’s four legged friends come around the corner to investigate who the new comer is. Her lips quirk as she goes to bend down to greet them, waiting for them to come to her rather than the other way around. She’d grown up with dogs around the house; her grandparents had owned a hobby farm and needed them to help chase away the various wildlife and herd the sheep but it had been ages since she’d owned a pet of her own. “And besides, it’s less crazy to tell people that you talk to your pets instead of say...your plants.” Which she was guilty as charged for.
A nervous laugh left Olivia’s lips as she stands from petting the dogs. “I think that just means you’re much tidier than I am.” There were many times at the end of the day or week where she’d return home and intend to clean her apartment. At the very least she tried to keep the mess contained to several rooms instead of letting it invade the rest of the apartment. “Well it depends on the day. I encourage them to clean up after themselves, but you can’t really expect a kindergartener to really scrub a desk down from all the paint they spilled on it right?” She tilts her head to the side, coming to stand a ways away from the woman, mildly aware that she doesn’t know what to do with her hands. “What do you do again?”














