Fujiko wiped a hand across her misty red cheeks. She had to get ahold of herself! It wasn't the first time Lupin had told her off. It wasn't the first time she had pushed too far in testing his limits and realized that he did, indeed, have them.

But why did it feel so different?

From the moment she'd woken that morning, something had felt off. She had gotten up on the wrong side of the bed—literally. She didn't let a silly thing like superstition worry her, though. Until she had overcooked her toast. Her toaster had worked perfectly fine the morning before, so why not that one? She tried making a second batch of toast, taking it out early, but while it had been fine, it seemed to slip from her fingertips onto the floor. She had banged up her knee pretty well in the process. Tired and hungry, she decided to eat the burnt toast after all, and it scorched her tongue! It had to have been sitting there for a good five minutes, and it scorched her tongue. At that moment, she looked up and felt like somebody was watching her.

She knew it was just a coincidence, of course. She would just have to deal with it.

Fujiko stared up at the ceiling, remembering the strange look on Lupin's face when she had gone to meet him. The look he'd had in his eyes was kind of hesitant and lonely, almost like a child, but with a certain air of confidence in what he was saying. She was used to him being pissed off at her, or even giving her a grave look as though their lives depended on that conversation. Never had she seen that. It frightened her. She tried to shake off the distractions and reach for her glass, only for her wrist to knock it over. She bit back tears of humiliation as the gin dripped down her legs, ignoring the man who offered to lick it off of her. Lupin would have offered the same.

She buried her face in her hands. That stupid, childish smile… Those dumb little remarks… She couldn't believe she missed that idiot. Of all people, why was it his company that she could stand?

No… that hadn't been the first time she'd seen the hurt in his eyes. There were a few times when she'd made him feel truly betrayed and something in her wanted to hold him close—do anything to make it go away. Somewhere in the back of her mind, she'd chosen to forget those times. But she had her pride and dammit, if she gave that up, what would she have left!?

She slammed her hands down onto the table, her second glass of gin winding up on the floor. She glared at it before deciding to ignore it.

Fujiko swallowed hard. Had that been… wrong of her? What if everything was her fault? She shook her head, reminding herself of all the stupid things he'd done. What did it even matter if it was her fault just this one time? She could just make it up by making him get back together with her! It was time to come up with a plan, she thought as she shifted her eyes so as to make her escape without paying, since she seemed to have forgotten her wallet.

As she stepped out, she slipped, falling face first into the drink she'd spilled just moments before with a loud thud. Pushing herself up, she made sure nobody was watching as she hopped up again to make those plans… only to fall once more. Letting her throbbing head soak up the spilled alcohol, Fujiko groaned. "This may take a while…"

The journey home was one she would never speak of—nay, think of—again. She'd been hit with muddy water, a half-eaten hot dog, three babies, and repeated rivulets of soda from the cans that had been thrown her way. Not even her hair was safe, fidgeting and unmoving moths alike strung in her carefully pampered hairs. No amount of bitching at the offenders had gotten her anything but a few flashes of fingers and she needed a shower more than anything in the world. Even diamonds.

She didn't trust her fate that day. She put on her anti-slip slippers and flipped the drain before pouring in the pink liquid that would promise a fluffy dip in the water. Fujiko turned to disrobe once the water reached am inviting level, afraid that if she stared too long at it, something would explode. The routine of getting her clothes off was a simple one, yet it felt so delicate that day. She lamented the stains that would never come out of her new dress as she pulled it down her shoulder, slowly drawing the zipper down so as not to accidentally break it. If her zipper could make it out okay, then perhaps she wasn't cursed. A smile broke out when she got it down smoothly and she shoved her dress down to her waist.

This bathing thing wasn't so hard after all! The hips were a hard hump to cross, but she skillfully brought her dress past it as the smell of lilac permeated the air, which had taken a light fog. It was easy to slip the thing off, and Fujiko tossed it aside. It would have to be thrown in the garbage once she stopped fearing that the bin might attack her. In relief that her day of bad luck was over, Fujiko pulled her hair back and faced the bath awaiting her. As she did, however, her face fell. Water pooled at her feet, pouring waterfalls all around her. How could she have forgotten to turn off the water?

Ha, the word count on this is nine-hundred sixty-nine. Lol, get it?
Aw crap, I just ruined it, didn't I?