A/N: Oh fugglenuts… I'm awful at updating. I'm so sorry, I just haven't really had any inspiration for what to do next. But don't worry! The next chapter, I have an idea forming, so maybe you'll get lucky and get two in a row posted! I'm sorry this one is so short…
Arthur finished eating a while ago, but he hadn't seen Francis since he went upstairs to go clean. He didn't feel bad, of course not, for destroying the room, but maybe he shouldn't have. Francis did, after all, save his ass from getting arrested. Not knowing what to do, he decided to sit in the living room. Or whatever that big room with the comfy looking couches was called.
Meanwhile, Francis was almost done cleaning up all the vase shards and scrubbing out those stains and cleaning the room up in general. Picking up the punk was really a stupid idea. What was he going to do with him? Lessons… That was just something he spat out to make him sweat a little…
Arthur, NOT feeling bad for destroying that so-called expensive room, went upstairs to try and find Francis. Problem was, he forgot what room was his… "Francis?"
"Ah… Oui Art'ur?"
Dammit. He can't say he wanted to help! "I'm bored, fucking Frenchie. Give me something to do."
Francis sighed and looked around the room. It was clean. Cleaner at least. "Alright Arthur. I think eet eez time you learned some manners though."
"The hell? I ain't gonna be your bitch or anything nasty like that."
Francis had to bite his tongue to keep from responding to that. "Of course not mon cher. Go back down to the kitchen. I'll meet you there." There was no movement from the other. "Arthur?" He was met with a glare. A smirk played across Francis' features as he realized what was wrong, "What? You cannot find your way back?"
"Shut up! Your house is just too fucking big!"
Chuckling, "Alright alright. Follow me." Picking up the bag of trash from cleaning, Francis headed down the hallway, an irritated, but silent punk following him.