Shilo led him upstairs and down a hallway. He took in the look of the walls. More fading wallpaper. Big, discolored squares lined them, some crooked; paintings he realized. There had been furniture in here, now it was empty. Save for a couple lamps, a narrow hall table and a mirror down at the end; the hallway was completely bare.
Shilo took a left and Graverobber followed her into a moderately sized bathroom. Also very scarcely furnished. He was beginning to get really confused.
"Hey kid, did you have an estate sale or something?" He joked. Shilo turned around; she'd been taking a towel out of a tall, cabinet. She folded it against her chest and awkwardly tucked a piece of hair behind her ear.
"I didn't really…like all the stuff. It was just too much." She shrugged her shoulders, almost like she was suddenly cold. "I put it all in the basement."
Graverobber looked in her eyes and saw something there that made him understand. She didn't like all of the things that were left behind because they weren't hers; they were her father's. Memories of the life they'd had before. Memories of the mother she'd never known. She couldn't be around them anymore.
Graverobber shrugged off his fur-collared jacket and dropped it to the floor. More than willing to change the subject.
"Alright. I'll scrub. But you need to scram." He said, removing his scarves and other small accessories.
Shilo set the towel down on top of the toilet and looked him over.
"You should let me wash those." She said, eyeing his clothes.
Graverobber paused.
"And just what am I supposed to wear?" He gave her a hinting grin. Shilo's eyes flashed with something he didn't totally understand.
"I have some things. Just leave… those… out in the hall." She left quickly then. Graverobber smiled a little after the door closed. He wondered if she knew how cute she was. He pulled his shirt off and stepped out of his boots. Catching his reflection in the mirror he looked over his exposed chest and leather pants.
It wasn't fair to compare Shilo's body to his own. She was fresh, pure, and tight.
He was chiseled. Scarred. Tattooed. Used. Lean sure, but it wasn't anything compared to her.
He turned away from the mirror and stripped off the rest of his clothing.
Graverobber couldn't remember the last time he'd had a shower. A real shower. He reveled in the feeling of warm water running down his back. The lather of soap in his tangled hair. He watched the brown, tinted water circle the drain, washing away the grit and grime of the streets. He scrubbed his face and his hands came away with smears of white and blue. The makeup was a personal choice. It made his more recognizable on the streets. Most addicts' brains were fried beyond normal comprehension. He couldn't expect them to remember his plain face. He needed dazzle, edge, branding.
With just Shilo here it didn't seem necessary to reapply it. Who else would he be? One night without his trademark glitz wouldn't change anything.
He gave his body one final rinse before stepping out and wrapping the towel Shilo left around his waist. He caught his knew reflection in the mirror and surprisingly didn't feel the need to turn away immediately.
He hadn't been clean, really clean, in a long while.
It was interesting.
He scanned the bathroom but there were no clothes there. He opened the door and checked where his pile of street clothes had been; nothing.
He scanned up and down the hallway. No sign of Shilo.
"Kid?!" he called.
"Door on the left!" he heard from downstairs. Graverobber tentatively stepped out of the bathroom, steam drifting over his head. Next to him was a bedroom. It was relatively small, with a big fireplace, a big bed, a big set of windows, and hardly anything else. The bed had plain white sheets on it. There was a bare alcove in the corner with a dresser shoved in it. It had to have been Shilo's room at some point because the wallpaper had clearly been pink. Someone had tried to peel most of it off but thin strips of it still clung to the wall. The bed was only a bed, it lacked a frame or a headboard but Graverobber had to assume it didn't always look like that. Lying on the bed was a dark purple, button up shirt, and a pair of sturdy black jeans. He put them on, relieved that they fit well. His boots were also sitting on the floor; most of the mud was off them and the laces looked much cleaner. He yanked them on and surveyed the room.
It surprised him once again how scarce everything was. But it made sense. Shilo's life had been chaos, pain, and an absolute cluster of shit.
He imagined it must have felt good when she cleared out her past. He bet Shilo felt much more peaceful standing in these empty rooms. Like she could breathe in and the air wouldn't be tainted with all the pain of what she'd been through.
His guilt returned then.
Why hadn't he come and found her?
Why had he sulked in a dumpster for ten months, torturing himself with the idea that he'd hurt her when he could have helped her?
He'd been stupid. He had to make it up to her.
There was a knock on the door, he turned and Shilo's face appeared.
"Hey, I wanted to … whoa." She said, her expression changing to one of surprise. She opened the door the rest of the way and Graverobber felt his jaw go slack. She'd changed her clothes too. She was dressed in a plain, red night shirt with thin straps that just covered everything but didn't leave much to the imagination.
"You look… good Graves." Shilo smirked. He looked good?
He looked good?!
She was breathtaking! She looked like a fucking angel! And he looked like…what?
Graverobber's eyes scanned the room and found a tall mirror in the corner. He didn't look bad. The shirt draped on his trim frame nicely and his damp hair was beginning to twist in on itself like it normally did.
But seeing Shilo standing there, leaning on the doorframe, one strap slipping down her shoulder to reveal the tiniest hint of the black bra underneath; Graverobber gulped down his yearning.
"Can I talk to you?" She asked. His eyes went from her legs, to her hips, to her chest, to her neck, to her eyes before he gave a quick nod. Shilo walked in and crawled up on the bed, sitting cross-legged. Graverobber's knees felt shaky. She waited for him to sit down across from her. He tried to get comfortable and ignore the tight feeling in his groin.
"What's this about?" He says. Willing his gaze to meet hers and not linger below the hem of her nightshirt.
Shilo's eyes looked down as she picked at her fingernails.
"I don't want to mess this up or anything. I just… I wanted to ask…" He waited while she found the words. She took a shaky breath and locked eyes with him. Her voice clear and sharp.
"What does sex feel like?"