Xandra huffed, setting the cup on the table with one hand and rubbing her face with the other. "Approached in the lift again," she muttered, "married man in his early forties... Didn't want to take no for an answer, pinched my arse... Swore..." She licked a droplet of tea off her bottom lip, waving off her entire little speech. "You know, the usual." She sighed, rolling her eyes, much to the blond's disapproval.
"Cherie, we may not be of a glamourous calling, but you are still a person... A person that deserves some respect, whether or not you believe i-" His sentence was cut off with the redhead's dry reply of "Oh, fuck it."
A small wad of crinkled and dirty bills was tossed onto the tabletop, being grabbed back by the young woman but a second later- she was counting it out a couple times "I made seventy-six," she mumbled, "You?"
"Just over one hundred..."
"Lucky prick."
"What is mine is also yours, petite," he whispered, pecking her forehead.
"I have no desire to contract your Frenchness, tart," she retorted, smirking a bit. "Speaking of of preventing stuff, I'm going to take a shower. I need to feel clean again... Is the shower being wonky again?"
"Oui."
"Fuck it all to hell!" she swore, walking away and slamming the door shut behind her.
"... La fille is attractive when angry..."
When the fiery redhead walked out of the bathroom, now clad in old skull and lace printed pyjamas, her roommate was sprawled out on the couch, reading a hentai manga that had been translated into French. Perhaps, if the job had been a bit more glamourous, it would have been perfect for Francis. Xandra knew shortly after they met, roughly five minutes into their meeting, that the blond was a flirty and sexual type... She had met him when she was walking the streets, too. In a way, it suited him perfectly, because he was polite about it... Unless he was just being crude to crack a grin from someone. He had started out being a painter that specialised in artistic nudes, but when the money came up short, he would do modeling at the art school for the students to reference. It had been a win-win situation. He got paid, and the students had a self-proclaimed French sex god to paint. That, and he was roughly the same age as them, so they occasionally had a fuck buddy. The problem? He couldn't be always used as a model, they needed to change it up. So his appointments at the school slowly became fewer and fewer until he stopped being called altogether. He had nothing to fall back on, so he sold his passion: sexual passion. It somehow managed to not tear apart his romanticized view of the deed.
"You better not be touching yourself on that couch," Xandra muttered, rolling her eyes playfully.
"Non, cherie. I'd rather be touching you~ Ohonhon."
"Nice try," she retorted, curling up on the couch, "I'm not your cherie. I'm your roommate you took in when you learned I was homeless."
A weak frown crossed the Frenchman's face. Setting down the book, he pulled the other into his arms, rocking her like a young child despite the fact that they were early twenty-something year olds. A small sigh sounded from the blond's lips as he held the girl against him. "It's a term of endearment..."
"I'm not all that dear, Francis."