Penelope examined her paper crane on the bed, going over all the folds in her mind again. She knew she could do better if she had the time. And space. She winced.

Several hours later, Penelope was still annoyed. First, that she had spent most of the day coming up with the perfect plan, and then the perfect recipe, only to have it all perfectly ruined by Nolan being in the way.

And now, that same doofus was on the couch, still playing his guitar. Shirtless. He really was like the Beast, keeping her prisoner in her own home with his annoying habits.

Penelope popped her head out of the doorway. She observed him casually splayed out across the couch, but intensely focused on his music. When he played his guitar, his whole body seemed to vibrate with the notes, including those tattooed biceps…

“Did you want something?” Nolan asked, looking at her. He had caught her staring.

“Yeah, actually,” Penelope said, clearing her throat. “It’s 10 p.m. I’m going to try and get some sleep. So can you…?” Penelope gestured around the room, to all of the lights on and to Nolan’s guitar.

Nolan’s face looked blank. “What?” he asked her, innocently.

“Turn off some lights? End your jam sesh for the night?” Penelope said, letting her irritation show.

“Oh, no can do, Penny,” Nolan said, smiling. “I was thinking about everything Flo said about Barb today and it really inspired me. I’m in the groove.”

“Come on, really?” Penelope asked skeptically. “It can’t wait until the morning?”

“Just shut your door,” Nolan offered, starting to strum the guitar again. “You can’t tell me what I love can wait.”

“My door, built in the seventies, isn’t soundproof,” Penelope said, raising her voice. “Plus the light from out here comes through the crack at the bottom.

Nolan shrugged. “Respect the groove,” he said in a sing-song voice, and kept playing away. Penelope sighed. She should have known he wouldn’t be reasonable.

She walked into the kitchen to get a glass of water and turned off the light on the way out. As she headed back to her room, she had an idea.

Penelope flipped off the light switch in the main room where Nolan was sitting.

“Hey!” he exclaimed, in protest. “I can’t see anything!”

“Oh, no worries, I just thought I’d watch a little TV to help me sleep,” said Penelope, grabbing the remote to the flatscreen Nolan had somehow manifested.

In my ideal layout, the TV would be on the far wall, but so be it…for now, she thought, as she cranked up the volume on the latest Law and Order spinoff.

The blue light of the TV danced across Nolan’s face, and she could tell he was now just as irritated as she had been.

“Come on, that’s not cool,” Nolan said, in a whinier voice than she had heard before.

“But Nolan,” Penelope said, sweetly, “I love this show. Don’t tell me it can wait.”

They both looked at each other, waiting for the other one to crack first.

“You know, what? You’re right,” said Nolan. He strummed a few chords.

In response, Penelope turned up the TV a few notches.

Nolan returned the favor by starting to go hard on the guitar. And Penelope turned it up even louder. Soon, they were making a symphony of television soundtrack police station sounds, mixed with C chords. As soon as one of them would sit back, the other would crank it up, until a cacophony of noise washed over the apartment. They were no longer looking at the guitar or the TV; they were only looking at each other, challenging the other to take the sound to a new level.

And then there was a loud knock on the door.

Nolan and Penelope each dropped the guitar and remote, respectively. They looked at each other, instinctively knowing who it was.

“I’ll get it,” Nolan said, slowly walking to the door. Another knock came, more urgently.

Penelope muted the TV and followed close behind him, cursing under her breath.

Nolan opened the door, revealing Flo in a teal housecoat and slippers. She no longer looked like the sweet older woman who had offered them origami lessons. She looked like a bulldog, ready to sink her teeth into a piece of meat. Or two.

“Knock it off!” she exclaimed, before Nolan could even try to charm her with a hello. “I don’t know what you two are doing up here, but the rest of us are trying to sleep.”

“That’s what I was trying to—,” Penelope said from behind Nolan, but Flo just fixed her with a deadly stare.

“I had high hopes for you,” Flo said, and then looked at Nolan. “Both of you. But this is no way to show what a good tenant you’ll be. In fact, I should throw you both out right now.”

“No, no need for that Flo,” Nolan said, pleading. “We’re really sorry—we just got carried away. Right, Penny?”

Penny smiled weakly, despite Nolan’s use of the nickname she still had not approved. “Right. We’re so sorry.”

“Whatever’s going on, it needs to end. Right now,” said Flo. “Knock it off and learn to live together until I make my decision. Or don’t and leave. But if I ever have to come back here under these circumstances, you’ll regret it.”

Nolan extended his hand to Penelope. “You got it. Truce!”

Penelope shook. “Yeah, truce.”

Flo sized them up. “Alright then. Goodnight.” She turned and headed back down the stairs, the housecoat swinging behind her, punctuating her departure.

Both Nolan and Penelope waved goodbye with their truce hands, and both kept their other hand behind their backs—fingers crossed.