I heard cursing and crashing from a few rooms down. It's been about a week since the shopping trip and everything's been pretty much the same. They all leave to work on their newest album, I stay and clean and make dinner preparations, stay up for a while after everyone heads to bed and then crash at around midnight. Today, however, Murdoc decided to stay for whatever reason while the others left to do their thing. Most likely reason could be because he still didn't quite trust me. Though, I admit, it is somewhat tempting to get a head start on reporting this, but I like where I am now. I like the fact that I can hang out with these guys on a daily basis. Hell, Murdoc can even be entertaining sometimes, despite we don't get along. What was I talking about again? Oh, right, the crashing and cursing.

"Murdoc? Everything okay in there?" I asked from the other side of his bedroom door. I heard some rummaging and other various, questionable noises.

"Yeah, yeah, just a sec!" He barked before opening the door, shoving his face close to mine. "What is it?" He growled.

"That's what I came here to ask. What was all that about?" I asked, glancing past him to see what was in his room.

"None of ya fucking business!" He screamed and slammed the door in my face. Uh... Okay then? He's gotta be frustrated with something and I'm just not helping matters. Wait... I think he's trying to look for something in his room.

"If you want, I can pick up your room for ya. I've got everything else done." I offered. It was silent for a while. I imagined he stopped immediately what he was doing, with an expression that I can only describe as a puzzled chimp as he stood in the middle of his room. The door suddenly opened.

"You're willing to clean up that chaos in there?" He asked, as if it were some sort of challenge that no one has won before. I nodded. He stepped aside and motioned for me to go inside. "Be my guest." He grunted. (He might as well had said, "Try it for yourself.") I paused for a moment, studying my new challenge. I left to grab the necessary supplies, which might has well been a bomb cuz fuck it was awful, and braved what was perhaps the greatest challenge in cleaning history. You don't even want to know half the shit I found in there, so I'll spare you and just tell you it took a good four and a half hours to get just everything off the fucking floor.
By the time I was completely finished, it was about three forty-six and no Murdoc. Where the hell did he go? As if on cue, Murdoc came in from outside with a couple of bottles which I assume is alcohol, and not the good shit. He's probably just wanting to get completely wasted. I sighed and shook my head.

"What is that?" I asked, pointing to the bottles (which I think is either rum or whiskey, I can't really tell from the hall). Murdoc sneered at me.

"What do you think it is?" He growled, placing them on the counter. I huffed and before he could even think about opening them, I snatched them and placed them out of his reach. "What'd you think you're doing?!" He screeched.

"You don't want this stuff. This stuff is shitty." I replied. His eyes were set on murder/I don't fucking care it was mine. I held up a finger, gesturing him to wait a second, and searched through my food stash. In the back was a twelve year old brandy. I got it more for a special occasions, but someone's gotta teach him the good the bad and the cheap (heh). I poured a little bit of it in a short glass and set it in front of him.
"That-" I pointed to the glass of twelve year old brandy. "Is good stuff right there." Murdoc continued to glare at me.

"You think I don't know what's good or ba-"

"Will you shut up and drink? Are you gonna really pass off some good brandy?" I countered, drumming my fingers on the countertop. He stared at me for a moment or two, then took the glass. He was about to down it before I stopped him. "Sip at it at first. Trust me, you'll get a bit of buzz after your first drink or so, but take your time. It's not going anywhere." I advised. He shot a glare at me, then took a drink. Didn't down it, but didn't sip at it. Ah, well, at least he didn't treat it like a shot. The whole point of brandy, at least to me, is to enjoy every sip. I'm sure he knows this already, but I just finished cleaning his fucking room. I'm not gonna clean up any other messes he makes anytime soon, so if he does get drunk I want it to be later. He drummed his fingers lightly on the counter.

"This... This is not bad." He stated, a mildly surprised expression on his face. He glanced at me. "How'd you find this? Actually, how'd you get this in the first place?"

"Oh, I, uh, bought it with my own cash, so don't worry about that. I got it when we first went shopping. I was saving it for any kind of special occasion, but I figured you should start off with something good before you drink that shit." I answered. I was pretty proud if myself that I managed to surprise him, even if it was a little. His brows furrowed as he took another drink.

"How old are you? You look pretty spry, but you act a lot more older than you look." He wondered aloud. I rested my elbows on the countertop.

"I'm twenty-six. My dad showed me what good alcohol is when I was still in high school. He was pretty cool." I said with a smile. I kind of miss my dad...

"So, you're both alcohol snobs?" He grumbled. I laughed a little and shrugged it off.

"I guess so, but hey, at least I won't go out of my way to get cheep-ass shit just to get wasted." I countered. Oh my God, if looks could kill, I'd be pushing up daisies. He was glaring daggers at me. He remained silent for a while, taking a drink every second or so. The tension grew thinner the more time went on and the more glasses he had. I cut him off at the fourth one, assuming he was getting a little buzzed.

"Y'know? Yer not so terrible as a thought." Murdoc murmured. I know he wasn't terribly drunk, yet his words were slightly slurred. "Still dunno if you're a real journalist, but, hey, at this point who cares?" I sighed and leaned back.

"Look, I'm not gonna do any reports on you guys. Even if I did, there isn't much to report anyway." I said. "Besides, I'm not even sure what I want to do. I like to write, but... I just don't know what to exactly write. I dunno. It's complicated I guess."

"So, not a journalist?" Murdoc summed up. I shook my head.

"Not anymore." A pause. Murdoc lightly drummed his fingers on the counter. His glass was empty, but I fed his habit long enough. I took the glass and filled it with water. "Here. Take it easy. I'm sure getting started on an album is a lot of hard work." He looked up at me.

"Why the hell are you like this? No one asked you to be like this. You just need to clean." He asked. I paused, letting the question roll around in my head for a moment.

"To be honest, I think everyone here has been through and has seen too much shit. I don't want to be the person that causes problems, I want to be the person that either solves or understands the problems. I think there's enough people who cause problems, don't you?"