6. Adaptation
"I thought I told you two to clean this up!" Meryl shouted, gesturing towards the kitchen. There was about three weeks worth of dirty dishes stacked in the sink, creating a small city of dangerously lopsided towers. There wasn't a single clear space of counter, all of it covered in trash, empty cans and remnants of takeout. There was also a fuzzy suspicious something growing next to the faucet that she didn't even want to wonder about.
"Hey, it's not even seven in the morning!" protested Wolfwood, pouring milk over his cereal. "At least wait until we eat something! We can't fend you off without nourishment." Meryl growled dangerously.
"We sorta forgot," said Vash lamely. "But we'll do it today," he added quickly. "Right, Wolfwood?"
The priest replied by rummaging in a drawer. "Are there any clean spoons?"
"NO!" Meryl screamed, gritting her teeth so hard that a vein popped out in her temple. "There would be IF YOU WASHED SOME!"
Wolfwood just shrugged. Then he fished a fork out of the drawer and sat back at the table. It took him several mouthfuls of cereal to realize both Vash and Meryl were staring at him.
"What?" He protested. "In times of trial, you have to adapt."
Vash rolled his eyes and beat his forehead into the table's surface. Meryl snarled, raising her hands in a choking motion. When the priest didn't even look up, she stalked out of the room with a shriek.
Wolfwood chewed thoughtfully. "Guess she's not a morning person."