"Mako, I got your clothes," Bolin yelled as he threw the duffle bag against the wall. He sniffed the air and grinned – seaweed noodles.
"Thanks, Bo," Mako called and scurried out of the bedroom. He was pulling his jeans up and did little hops while holding his keys in his mouth. Finishing, he reached into the bag and grabbed the top garment. He held it up for a moment then looked at Bo. He didn't have a blue shirt. A white tank top, gray shirt, red uniform sure, but nothing blue.
Bolin shrugged at him, and helped himself to a plate of food. He slurped the noodles and tossed Mako his flannel he had been wearing.
"Dude, that is stained, with the food you're eating right now," Mako scolded as he held the shirt at a distance. He grimaced and tossed it at the wall in direction of the laundry bag.
"It'd keep you covered," Bolin retorted helping himself to another bowl of food.
"I don't have time for this, I'm gonna be late for class."
"Get up earlier than," Bolin said over his shoulder as he plopped on the sofa and turned on the TV. It wasn't his fault Mako was late. Mako made the choice to go to school for criminal justice. He gave up the MMA path for "more stability."
Mako rolled his eyes and retrieved the flannel. He wiped off the wet stain with a paper towel and gave it sniff. It didn't smell too bad, and he needed a shirt.
"Can you at least go and get my right bag?" Mako asked. Bolin gave him a wave over the sofa. Mako knew that meant no. Sighing, he slung the bag over his shoulder. He'd have to go after class.
The Laundromat's sign was only partially lit with the first portion burnt out. The dirty windows housed old sale signs. He pushed the creaky door open and the fluorescent light flickered above him. The strong odor of flowery detergent accosted him. The empty station was filled with rumbling machines. The clerk was propped up behind the counter holding her head on her palm flipping through a magazine. She didn't look up when he entered, but called out, "The change machine is busted. The wait time is six hours for drop offs."
"Ah, actually, there was a mistake," Mako said. He crossed the distance and thought she looked familiar. p
"Hm, that's a shame," she replied. Her plastic name nag had a label plastered over it stating her name was "Nutuk". She lifted her eyes briefly to give him an annoyed look, but paused when she saw his amber eyes. He stared back at her, and lifted his mouth in an attempted half-grin.
"I was given the wrong clothes. Well, my brother was," Mako said and dropped the bag on the counter.
"Whose clothes were you given?" she asked cracking a grin.
Mako squinted at her nametag, "I'm not sure, Nutuk."
Korra laughed, "Ah, it's Korra."
"Korra," Mako said. He liked how it sounded on his tongue. "I only saw the first item."
"Oh," she sounded disappointed. "Maybe the one piece was the only mistake."
Mako paused and blushed slightly. He hadn't thought about that. He opened the bag and pulled out the blue athletic top. The next article was green tunic. It was too small for Bolin, and it wasn't Mako's. Reaching in, he pulled out a crumbled piece of paper. He held it tentatively. It wasn't his. It could be private, but then again, it might help him figure out whose bag it was. He smoothed it out and found scribbled across it, "Hey City Boy, I've noticed you for the past few weeks coming in. I think you're sweet and have a great smile. Want to get a cup of coffee? – Korra"
Mako's eyes shot up to look at Korra. She was blushing, and biting her lip behind the magazine she used to cover part of her face. Her blue eyes watched him. He nervously smiled in response, and asked, "When is your shift over?"
