“I get it.” he rolled up his sleeves, washing his hands. “When I took care of my sister, she was super picky! Right down to the colours.” he scoffed.  

“Hm.” I sat at the small round table. “You must leave once the rain lets up.” I huffed, crossing my arms.  

“What if it doesn’t?” he looked at me. “Would I be able to stay the night?” 

“This isn’t some motel!” I snapped. 

“I can pay you.” he stated; I was silent for a long moment. 

“No.” I took a breath. “If it comes down to it, you may stay I guess.” I sighed deeply. “As we’re here, I'll go over rules.” 

“No problem!” he cooed, filling a pot with water.  

“Mrs. Delilah has her own rules for me, and those carry onto you; I also have some rules I'll add.” I spoke slowly. “First and foremost, you go into any room in this building without permission, and I'll have you arrested. Secondly, you will leave without any questions if I want you to. Thirdly, you will listen to me and what I say.” I thought for a moment. “And... that’s it.” I shrugged to myself. 

“Simple enough.” he hummed. “So, you mentioned that the bookshop owner took you in, right?” 

“Hm.” I nodded. 

“What happened before then?” he glanced back at me. 

“Is this an attempt at getting to know me?” I sneered. “Let me be clear, you are but an unwelcomed guest in my home. If I want you gone, you will be gone. So don’t mistake my invitation for kindness, sir.” 

“Hah...” he smiled. “You know, I'm never treated quite like that.” he nodded to themself. “In my... workplace, I'm in a position of great power and revered by everyone in the company. They walk on eggshells around me.” he walked over to the sink again, splashing water down the drain. “So it’s a nice change of pace.” 

“Ok...?” I rested my eyes. “Why don’t you just call a cab or someone to pick you up?” I waited for an answer. “Aren’t you rich people all alike? You spend people like it’s money.” 

“It... it doesn’t work like that...” he quietly said. “Not for me at least.” 

“Whatever. You and I live two vastly different lives. Neither one of us will ever touch the other. This is simply an overlapping of the olive branch.” I hummed to myself.  

“An-anyways,” he cleared his throat. “Do you got wine?” 

“No.” I snapped. 

“Oh, ok.” he paused. “Any type of alcohol?” 

“No.” I repeated.