cartinelli. angie needing to borrow peggy's bathroom since hers backed up. again.
"Peggy!" There's rapping at the door, hurried and more than a little panicked.
Peggy bolts upright, throwing the comforter off her and scrambling out of bed. "Who is it?" She vaguely hopes that no one'll break the door down. She considers the possibilities: either someone's onto her and she's about to get arrested, or something blew up and someone needs her, fast.
"It's me, Angie!" Oh, no. "It's an emergency!" Not again. Not another mute man in a suit that'll blow someone's brains out.
Peggy takes and step forward and tentatively unlocks the door. She pulls it open, afraid of what she'll find on the other side.
"Oh, thank god," Angie says, brushing past her into the room. "My toilet broke and flooded my bathroom. I've knocking for ages." The panic in Peggy's chest deflates. Angie stops just before she gets to the bathroom, turning around and looking at the state of Peggy's room. "Say, you weren't sleeping, were you? I'm sorry if I woke you up--"
"Oh, it's perfectly alright." Peggy hadn't gone to sleep as early as she had in months, probably. For once, she didn't get back to the house past curfew, and when Peggy walked into her room, she set her briefcase down and essentially dove into the mattress. She should probably be annoyed, but she's trying to be a good neighbor and all that, and she's honestly just too relieved that nothing's gone terribly wrong to mourn her lack of sleep.
"Thank you so much, English," Angie says through the bathroom door. "I owe you one."
