Those stairs were going to be the death of him.

He had been gone for two days, and they still hadn't fixed the elevator. He considered filing a complaint to the comatose old doorman.

Oh well, it was probably the only exercise he really got.

As Timmy turner got off at floor twenty-nine, he felt his spine tingle in anticipation for what was to come.

He had spent the whole day yesterday wondering if everything Vicky had done was a cruel joke. Maybe the next time he went into her apartment she would resort back to her cruel self and torture him.

Timmy had wondered if he should stay home.

But then again, what if things really were different? And what might come of him working next to the sleeping bear known as Vicky?

Timmy had no idea what would happen, and the danger strangely excited him.

And now he was in front of her door again. Ready for whatever lay ahead.

Timmy had certainly not been expecting what lay ahead of him.

He had knocked on her door in much the same routine. He heard the same growl from the first visit. Vicky had answered with a toothbrush in her mouth and let him in, still having that familiar scowl on her face.

Everything seemed normal.

But when he entered her apartment, what he saw shook him to the very bone.

All his hard work during the last cleaning had been completely erased.

All the clothes were back on the floor, all the dirty dishes were piled in the sink, and there was garbage everywhere.

And if anything, it looked worse.

Timmy, slack-jawed, stared at Vicky, trying to understand how one girl could make such a mess in only one day. She simply folded her arms and surveyed the carnage she had created. She looked down at him and smiled with... sympathy?

Was she actually sympathetic that he had to clean up this dump? And Timmy noticed that her scowl was gone, and her gaze had softened.

Wow... without that mean look on her face she looked kind of... pretty.

"Guess you should get to work, twerp."

And just like that, the moment was ruined with her annoying nickname for him. Timmy sighed as he wondered why he had thought she was being sympathetic. She was pretty much the same old Vicky, and it was silly for him to think she was going to magically turn nice.

Vicky sauntered over to her bedroom and addressed him before she closed the door.

"And stay out of my room!" she said before closing the door.

Huh, no 'twerp' to finish her sentence? Maybe she was gradually turning nice after all.

But still, it would be a lot nicer if she tried to keep her apartment in order.

He figured there was a limit to how nice Vicky could be and decided to get started.

Halfway through the cleaning, Timmy noticed out of the corner of his eye that Vicky's bedroom door was opened a bit. He could see that Vicky was watching him and surveying his work.

He was going to call her out and say that he was definitely working his hardest, but decided against it. He didn't want to make her angry.

He chose instead to pretend he didn't see and kept working.

As he was washing dishes, Timmy heard Vicky's door creak open and Vicky come out. Curious, he peaked into the living room to see her sitting on the couch, watching TV.

This was odd. He had figured that she wouldn't come out of her room like last time. He carefully observed her as she sat there.

She was wearing black pants and a green shirt, just like she did when he was a kid. Timmy assumed that certain things just never changed. After all, he was still wearing his pink hat.

In appearance, however, Vicky had definitely changed. When she was sixteen she had looked like many sixteen year olds, awkward and lanky. Timmy had used to think that she was the ugliest creature on the planet.

But now, he wasn't so sure.

She was no longer as skinny as he remembered. She had filled out and had a lot more curves. Her hair, which used to be dry and straw-like, was now shiny and voluptuous, though still tied back in her classic ponytail.

Her once zit covered skin was smooth and delicate, like a porcelain doll's.

And to top it all off, her face used to be gaunt and scary, but was now more calm and beautiful.

Beautiful... that was not a word that Timmy had thought would ever describe Vicky.

But the proof was right before his eyes.

Suddenly, she looked over at him and his eyes widened. He quickly ran into the kitchen, expecting Vicky to come any second and demand to know why he had been staring at her.

But, she did not come.

Timmy hoped that she either hadn't seen him or dismissed it. Either one was fine with him.

He went back to washing dishes, but froze when he heard a noise come from the living room. It was faint, and very soft.

It sounded like... giggling.

It couldn't be coming from... Vicky, could it?

No, that was certainly impossible. Timmy had her cackle menacingly, chuckle maniacally, and laugh evilly.

But giggling cutely? That was just ridiculous. She might have gotten prettier, and nicer, but the day Vicky giggled like a schoolgirl Timmy would spread his arms and fly to the moon.

Deciding that he was simply hearing things, Timmy went back to washing dishes.

As Timmy finished the job, Vicky once again came over to him with his payment in hand. He took the money and headed over to the door. Vicky began to walk back to her room without saying a single word to him.

But before he left he stopped himself.

Were they really going to do this every single time? Were they just going to continue without ever acknowledging the other?

Timmy thought that they should at least learn to make small talk while they were in such close proximity. It might even make his job less grueling.

He turned around and looked at Vicky. He took the initiative and asked her a question.

"Hey Vicky, how do you make this kind of money anyways?"

Seemingly surprised by his question, she didn't say anything for a moment. When the answer came to her, her familiar frown returned.

"I run a daycare center. Now get out, I have work to do." she said as she pushed him out the door and closed it behind him.

Timmy smiled at the closed door. A daycare, huh? He should have known that Vicky wouldn't abandon her favorite hobby of torturing children. She was even still making a profit off it.

Timmy walked off down the hall, ready to make a complaint to the doorman about the elevator.