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A really big, horrendous mess.
That he was currently marveling at.
“Did your wardrobe explode, by any chance?” he asked. But at this point she was far too desperate and frustrated to react well to something like that. Instead,shepractically exploded, before she could contain herself. She actually threw what was in her hand at him—a pair of socks that she couldn’t even remember grabbing.
And words pretty much fizzed out of her mouth.
“Just shut up, Alfie. Shut up and help me,” she said.
Then got him, shaking his head faux sadly.
“Helping whatever this is is beyond my powers I’m afraid, love. I mean, last I checked I’m not a wizard. And even if I was,I reckon it would end the world if I attempted a spell that sets this to rights.”
“Oh, give over. It’s not that bad.”
“Not that bad? You have a pair of knickers dangling from a lighting fixture.”
He pointed up at the offending article: her Pusheen-covered underpants, snagged on the rainbow-striped lampshade above them. Which she then tried to snatch back down, even though snatching them back down was never going to be a thing for her. She was five foot two.
She couldn’t even jump that high.
Though she tried. She hopped and stretched.
And when she failed, he just stepped forward and snagged them.
Because he was tall, apparently; he was tall, and in a way she hadn’t really noticed before. Even though a) she had read the wordssix foot onein his bio a million times before and b) she always noticed, with men. She didn’t like being loomed over, and so always found herself seeing it, and moving away.
But with him she hadn’t, weirdly.
Like he’d never done it to her.
Like he stayed away, she thought.
Or seemed different somehow, even when he was close.
“Here you go, weirdo,” he said as he handed them to her.
And even then there was no sense of that overwhelming height.
There was just embarrassment over what she’d done.
Followed by the urge to defend herself.
“Don’t call me a weirdo, you great turnip. I didn’t intend to do it. They just made me mad, so I threw them. And the lighting fixture happened to be in the way. It was purely collateral damage in my pursuit of justice. So I’m not sorry,” she said. And just like that all the tall-man weirdness was gone.
Only to be replaced by more of him, pointing at other mad things.
“Are you sorry about the millions of bras spilling out of that bin?”
“No. No, I’m not. None of them fit me right. They deserve to be in there.”
“All right. But surely you at least regret the cereal all over every surface.”
He made circles in the air, over said cereal-covered surfaces.
You know, to really emphasize exactly how much there was.
And okay, he wasn’t wrong. But she had her reasons, damn it.
