Several days had passed since his move into the apartment. He’d packed light, his belongings consisting only of the necessities: clothes, books, laptop, stationery, a pillow, a blanket, a small potted cactus, and a teddy, which he hid behind his pillow. A sentimental gift, he couldn’t part with it, not even at a mature 18 years of age.
All in all, he was settling in well, gradually getting accustomed to Tomo’s habitual singing, which thankfully wasn’t as unpleasant as his roommate’s in the dormitory. There was only one problem: food, the grumbling of his stomach reminded. Alas, all edibles in the kitchen—namely bread and biscuits—looked unappetizing. He could attempt to cook, but the idea of spending an hour or two cleaning and mopping up an inevitable mess was off-putting. Thus, he pulled on a black sweater and a newsboy cap and was a foot out the door before he backtracked and went to look for Tomo instead.
Law wasn’t of the habit to extend dinner invitations to ladies he’d just met, but it seemed like a good opportunity for them to get acquainted. If there were any warning signs of psychopathy, he’d prefer to identify them sooner the better. It was common these days, to read of demure girlfriends exacting revenge over trivial grudges. Of course, Law’s primary reason was loneliness.
Law scribbled a note that read: ‘Heading out for food. Dropping by Cherry Blossom Festival around the corner if you want to come with. Was going with a friend but they ditched last min. I’ll wait but give me an answer within the next five mins. —Your roommate’.
Law slipped the note under Tomo’s door. Then he rapped on her door before he stepped away to await her answer on the couch.