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Lucy let out a groan as she sat up in bed. Her neck hurt, her hair stuck up in a million places, and she was still in the same clothes she was wearing the night before. Nearly tripping over her rapier and belt where she discarded them without thought the night before, she stumbled into her bathroom. She flicked the shower on and waited for the water to heat while studiously avoiding her reflection. She did not need to see what post three-wraiths-that-were-supposed-to-be-just-one-shade-Lucy looked like.
Still half asleep, she quickly went through her shower routine and then trudged out, wrapped in a towel. She went to her drawers, trying to decide if she should actually get dressed or just get into pajamas and go back to sleep, but stopped with a frown. They were completely empty except for a mismatch sock and several pieces of lint. With a groan of frustration she remembered that she had told herself the night before that she would start the wash when she got back home. But of course, last night she’d been too tired to even eat, let alone do laundry. She went to her closet but unfortunately found it in the same state.
In a last desperate attempt she searched under her bed, and with a triumphant cry pulled out a crumpled t-shirt and pair of leggings. She had no idea how long they’d been there and they smelled slightly questionable, but they were better than nothing.
She quickly threw them on and then tromped down the stairs, hoping that George had started breakfast, but as she made it to the kitchen she was disappointed by the lack of sizzling bacon. There wasn’t even tea brewing. The kitchen was completely empty. With a huff she turned the kettle on and pulled a mug from the cupboard with perhaps more force than was strictly necessary.
Just as the water began to boil, Lockwood stumbled into the kitchen, rubbing his eyes and wearing the same clothes as yesterday, though he was missing the coat and tie.
“Morning, Luce,” he said with a yawn. “Mind if I have a cup of that?”
Lucy grunted in response, and pulled out another mug as he dropped into his seat. A few minutes later the tea was ready and she joined him at the table.. They sat in silence for several minutes, both too tired to say anything, until George finally wandered in. He was in a grubby t-shirt and sweatpants that Lucy was pretty sure he had been wearing all day yesterday before changing into something more suitable for their case. Though you could never tell with George. It was entirely possible that the outfit was actually three days old.
He also fixed himself a cup of tea and settled in at the table. Lucy stared into her tea, and was just dozing off when Lockwood broke the silence.
“Good to see you, George. I hope you’ll hurry up with that because it’s your turn for laundry and as you can see you’ve fallen behind. And we really do need to be looking presentable as we’ve got a client coming at noon.” Despite the tiredness that laced his words, Lockwood sounded far too chipper for this early in the morning.
George seemed to feel the same. “Is it really my turn? Didn’t I do it last time?”
“As a matter of fact, you did not. Now if you don’t mind, the client should be here in just a few hours.”
George let out a sigh loud enough to rattle the lights. “Fine,” he grumbled.
As George stood to go, and shook the whole table while doing so, Lucy asked, “Oh George would you mind putting mine as well. I’m completely out.” She normally washed her clothes separately, but she couldn’t bear the thought of standing up and doing anything.
He let out another earth-shaking sigh. “No. It’s bad enough I have to do his laundry, you can take care of your own.”
Lockwood laughed. “Oh come on George, help her out. It’s just a little extra laundry.”
George glared at him. “You wouldn’t be singing the same tune if you were on laundry duty.”
“But alas, I’m not on laundry duty. And really George please hurry, I’m starving.”
“Please, George? My feet are killing me, and besides it was your research that told us it would be perfectly fine. I believe your exact words were—”
“Oh fine,” George said, cutting Lucy off. “But one of you better start breakfast. I’m not your nanny.”
“Thank you,” Lucy called after him as he left.
“Well I suppose we should get up then,” Lockwood said after George had left.
“Yes, I suppose so.” But neither of them moved. And when George returned several minutes later they still hadn’t.
“You two are completely pathetic, you know that?” George shoved past them and began pulling things out for breakfast. As he started scrambling eggs, Lucy and Lockwood finally forced themselves up from their seats..
Lucy took donuts from the cupboard and Lockwood pulled juice from the fridge. In just a few minutes they were sitting down again, eating a meal of scrambled eggs, donuts, and orange juice. Hardly the feast Lucy wanted, but food nonetheless.
After they’d scarfed down their breakfast George went to go complete the paperwork for last night’s job and Lockwood left to go make some calls, leaving Lucy alone with no idea what to do. She knew they were in desperate need of a food restock, but there was no way she was leaving the house in her current state. At last, she decided to tidy the kitchen and then go to the basement to practice her rapier with Joe and Esmeralda.
A few hours later Lucy was sweaty and breathing hard, but at last finally fully awake. She went back upstairs for a drink of water and perhaps more food, and had just sat down when Lockwood stormed up the stairs. He was in different clothes, so Lucy hoped that meant the laundry was finally finished.
“What’s the matter?”
Rather than answering her question Lockwood marched to the fridge and poured himself a glass of juice before aggressively throwing himself down on his chair. “Do you know where George is?” he asked.
“Uh no, why? What’s wrong?”
“This is what’s wrong!” He stuck his foot in the air and Lucy stared at in confusion.
“Your foot?”
“No, my socks! Just look at them, they’re ruined!”
It took Lucy another second, but then she saw what the problem was. His socks that were once a pristine white were now a muted pink. Lucy couldn’t help the snort of laughter that came from her mouth.
Lockwood didn’t seem to find it quite as funny. “He just threw everything in there like a wild animal! Didn’t take the time to sort anything out. In fact, I’m surprised the washer did explode. It was so full. And now, all my bloody socks are pink!”
Now Lucy really couldn’t stop herself from laughing. “Don’t you think you’re being just a tad dramatic?”
Lockwood glared at her. “As a matter of fact, I don’t. And you’re not going to find everything quite so funny when you see all of your things have been stained too.”
Lucy’s laughter died in her throat. “Wait, what. My clothes?!”
He nodded somberly. “Anything white you ever owned is now stained this hideous color.”
Without another word, Lucy jumped up and ran down the stairs to the laundry room. The heaping pile of clothes had been deposited in a laundry basket in an overflowing stack.
Sure most of her clothes were dark and probably wouldn’t be affected, but that didn’t stop her from digging through the pile in search of anything of hers that had been ruined. After just a few seconds of looking though, she stopped. It seemed Lockwood had been exaggerating. Nothing here seemed to have been stained.
“See what I’m talking about. Absolutely ruined!” Fury was written all over Lockwood’s face.
She looked at him, unimpressed. “I don’t see a single thing that’s been ruined.” She even pulled out one of Lockwood’s still-white shirts to prove her point.
He seemed at loss for words. His mouth opened and shut several times before he was able to get out, “I don’t care about the shirt, it’s about the socks. The socks! They’re absolutely ruined!” He stuck his foot up in the air again to prove his point.
“Well maybe you should take care of your own things.” Lucy and Lockwood whipped around to see George standing in the doorway. “It’s not my fault you’re incapable of taking care of yourself. You’d starve to death if it weren’t for me.”
“George! You’ve ruined my socks. And now I don’t have time to get more before the client gets here. And he sounded fancy!”
Lucy tried to hide her laugh behind her hands. Lockwood whirled on her. “This is serious!”
“Oh yes, I’m sure it is. But I think you’re being silly, they’re actually quite nice. They really bring out your eyes. Don’t you think George?”
George put on a mock-serious face. “Why yes Lucy, I think they do. They offer a very nice contrast.” They both lost it while Lockwood stood there, glaring. Just as George opened his mouth to say something else that would no doubt make Lockwood angrier, the doorbell rang.
“Now that is going to be our client,” Lockwood said with a huff. “And I have to go up there looking like this.” He ripped a tie off the top of the laundry mountain and stormed up the stairs.
Lucy and George couldn’t stop themselves from bursting into laughter again.