He let out an exasperated sigh. "Then how would you explain the music that reverberates through my ceiling on a nightly basis?"
She opened her mouth to respond, then gripped her pencil, the wooden instrument snapping between her whistle knuckles. "Which nights?" she asked, her tone venomous.
"Weekdays, mostly. If you would like a more concrete answer, I have them written down—"
"Nothing during the weekend?"
He raised an eyebrow. "No."
She threw her pencil across the room. "I'm going to murder her."
Sesshoumaru pursed his lips. "Laying blame on others will not deter me from following through on my complaint, Kikyou—"
Her chair crashed to the floor, reiki crackling along her fingers as she glared at him. "That is not my name!"
This time both eyebrows rose, disappearing under his bangs. "The buildings manager—"
"—is a forgetful old coot who can't tell the difference between a hammer and a wrench," she cut in, still seething.
"If that is the name on the deed, then you cannot be angry that he—"
She slammed her hands on the table. "I can be angry all I want! I've told him a million times that my name is—"
The doorknob jingled before opening, the man he'd seen before striding into the apartment—followed by a woman almost identical to the one in front of him.