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When a pregnant Roxy complained to Eggsy about the door of her wardrobe, Eggsy immediately offered to fix it for her. She had seemed equal parts relieved and triumphant so he felt quite proud of himself when he showed up at her front door with his toolbox. “Hiya, love!” he exclaimed, overly cheerful.
“Urgh,” said Roxy as she tugged on a coat. “I'm out of milk so I'm going to leave you on your own for a few minutes.”
“I can go get it, if ya want,” Eggsy protested, frowning at her in worry.
“It's fine,” Roxy said, almost growling as she glared at him. She was determined to get through the pregnancy on her own despite Eggsy's best intentions.
“'Kay...” Eggsy muttered, watching her waddle off. Sighing to himself, he closed the front door and made his way through Roxy's rather large flat. He had been in her bedroom before, so he strode confidently in – and nearly tripped over a baby toy.
The room had changed since he had last entered (to throw his jacket in during a party). All of Roxy's expensive ornaments had been raised to higher shelves or removed entirely. Same with the few rows of books she had. A pile of toys (which the bright red, plastic thing Eggsy had trod on must have come from) was beside the bed. On the other side was a rocking cradle which looked old and ugly.
Kicking the toy – it squeaked in protest – towards the pile, Eggsy moved over to the large, wooden wardrobe. It had been cheap and the screws in the hinges of one door had come loose and fallen out. One screw held the door on – at an angle and likely to fall at any moment. So Eggsy pulled out his screwdriver and began to unscrew the last one to remove it so he could line it up properly. Once he had completely removed the door, he propped it against the windowsill and inspected the wardrobe proper to make sure it wasn't damaged. Therefore, his back was turned when he heard the almighty crash behind him.
Spinning around, Eggsy gaped in shock. A pile of clothes had been lying on the floor, unnoticed by him, and he had clearly put one side of the door on top of it without noticing. The door had then toppled over – and into the shelving holding Roxy's ornaments. It had stopped there but a round thing had rolled off and smashed the corner of the cradle.
Eggsy cried out in alarm and hurried towards it – only to trip over the edge of the door and go flying. He landed on top of the cradle and completely demolished it. Shocked, he sat there for several minutes before picking himself up. Looking around at the bits of wood, Eggsy swallowed.
Roxy was going to kill him.
Unless...
If he could fix everything, he'd be in the clear – but where would he get wood to fix the cradle? And that ornament had been expensive: he couldn't afford another one for her and there were glass shards all over. Never mind that he still had to fix the bloody wardrobe.
“Fuck, fuck, fuck,” Eggsy murmured.
He decided the best thing to do would be to fix the thing he had the equipment for. So, foregoing changing the hinges as he had planned (they looked fine to him, anyway), he grabbed the door and hastily turned back to the wardrobe.
There was a ripping noise.
Eggsy froze.
Slowly, he looked down at his hand. There was a piece of cloth wedged between his left hand and the door. Looking around, he found that it happened to be half of one of Roxy's curtains.
“Oh, fucking 'ell.”
Dropping the piece of fabric, Eggsy resolutely turned back to the wardrobe. He'd fix that first, sweep up the glass, run out (and by 'run' he actually meant sprint) and get some wood, fix the cradle, figure out how to sew and-
The front door opened.
“Shit,” said Eggsy.
Footsteps ventured further into the flat until, finally, Roxy appeared in the doorway. She was smiling and opened her mouth to speak. Then she froze, taking in the devastation. Her eyes went wide. Then her eyebrows dropped, her mouth closed and her jaw clenched.
“Before you decide to murder me,” Eggsy cried, “let me explain!”