(Just me, the Rabid-Writer-Wrester-Faerie-Chick. I'm still just taking responsibility for SoCo, even if sometimes her behaviour makes me want to rethink that idea. WWF = not mine. Yeah.)

Of course, the second I said I was fine, the knock grew about ten times more persistent, and I groaned a little. Some people do not know when to quit. And here I am, practically in my altogether…
Yes, boys and girls, I sleep in my underwear.
That's it.
I know you're thanking me for that "too much information" moment.

Flinging the door open, I peer through the curtain of auburn hanging in my face, and I immediately wish I'd at least thrown a sheet around me…
But noooooooo…
Here I am, standing there in my underwear and bra, looking Mr. Neighborhood Friendly Pothead in the face.

"Um…I heard you yellin', which is saying a lot, saying as I usually sleep like the dead, and…I thought I'd see what was going on, and next thing I know you're standing here in…uh…yeah…"
It seems my lack of clothing didn't hit him until now, and he was stumbling over his own words, and…

"Aw, geez…sorry. I didn't even realize that you were in…that."

"Come on, Van Dam. You think I'm going to buy the fact you've never seen a girl in her underwear before? Oooh, look, this is a bra. You know what's under there?" If he was going to be flustered about this, I certainly was going to have fun with it.
Even if it was cruel.
"How can you not realize I'm not wearing anything? I mean, you're a guy, and Mini-Me should be payin' a visit…"

Shrugging a little, I stepped back into my room, starting to close the door, just a little.
If I didn't…behave myself…things could turn out bad.
Or good.
Or just plain messy.
Or a combination of all three…

However, I actually (gasp!) had morals, and maybe Kari had reiterated that in me when I'd talked to her earlier – the comment about how I acted like a ho had stung a little, not that I was going to let anyone know that.
"Anyway, I'm fine. And…you can go back to sleep, and all will be just…ducky."