Jodie Holmes had faced countless challenges in her life—military training, secret experiments, the constant presence of Aiden, and a never-ending string of government conspiracies. But nothing, nothing, prepared her for the sheer fury she felt as she stared at the broken toilet in her tiny apartment.

Standing across from her, looking entirely too smug for someone in this situation, was Ryan Clayton.

"Ryan," Jodie said through gritted teeth, pointing at the cracked porcelain throne. "Do you want to tell me why my toilet looks like it was hit by a wrecking ball?"

Ryan leaned against the doorframe, arms crossed, looking both amused and sheepish. "Look, it wasn't my fault."

"Wasn't your fault?" Jodie repeated, her voice rising. "The toilet was fine this morning. I leave you alone here for two hours, and now it's a crime scene."

Ryan raised his hands defensively. "Okay, first of all, I didn't do it on purpose. Second, who knew your plumbing was this fragile?"

"Fragile?" Jodie's eyes narrowed. "It's a toilet, Ryan. They're literally designed to handle people sitting on them. What did you do? Body slam it?"

Ryan winced. "Not exactly…"

Aiden, Jodie's ever-present spectral companion, made his annoyance known by slamming a cabinet door in the kitchen. Jodie shot a glance in that direction. "Even Aiden thinks you're full of it."

"Of course he does," Ryan muttered. "He's your ghostly cheerleader."

"He's not my cheerleader," Jodie snapped, then paused. "Aiden, stop slamming things. I'm handling it."

The lights flickered ominously, as if Aiden wasn't entirely convinced.

Ryan rolled his eyes. "Great. Now I've got a haunted toilet and a haunted apartment. Perfect."

"You're lucky Aiden hasn't thrown you out the window yet," Jodie shot back. "But keep talking, and I might let him."

Ryan sighed, running a hand through his hair. "Alright, fine. If you must know, I sat on the edge of the toilet to tie my shoe, and... it kind of gave out."

"Kind of gave out?" Jodie's voice hit a new pitch. "Ryan, it looks like it exploded."

"Look, it's not my fault your apartment has 1940s plumbing," Ryan said, trying to deflect. "Maybe you should've upgraded."

"Maybe you should've tied your shoes not on the toilet," Jodie retorted. "It's a bathroom, not a gym bench."

Ryan smirked. "At least I didn't blame it on Aiden."

As the argument escalated, the apartment descended into chaos. Aiden, clearly annoyed with both of them, knocked over a lamp, flicked the light switch on and off, and sent a box of tissues flying across the room.

"See?" Ryan said, gesturing at the floating tissues. "He's on a rampage. Why don't you ask your supernatural roommate to fix the toilet?"

Jodie threw up her hands. "Because Aiden's not a plumber, Ryan!"

"Well, I'm not either!" Ryan exclaimed. "And I'm not paying for this, by the way."

"Oh, you are absolutely paying for this," Jodie said, crossing her arms. "You broke it, you fix it."

Ryan groaned. "How do you even fix a toilet? I can't just duct tape it back together."

"No, but you can call a plumber," Jodie snapped. "And while you're at it, explain to them how you managed to destroy it in the first place."

After several more rounds of bickering, Ryan reluctantly agreed to call a plumber. But, as luck would have it, the only plumber available on such short notice was a grumpy old man named Earl, who looked like he'd rather be anywhere else.

Earl surveyed the damage with a grim expression. "What the hell happened here?"

Ryan pointed at Jodie. "Her toilet was faulty."

Jodie pointed back at Ryan. "He sat on it like he was auditioning for WWE."

Earl raised an eyebrow, clearly unimpressed. "Well, whatever happened, this is gonna cost you."

Ryan groaned. "How much?"

Earl smirked. "Enough."

While Earl worked on the toilet, Jodie and Ryan sat in awkward silence on the couch. Aiden, still disgruntled, made his presence known by tilting the TV at an odd angle and turning the volume up to max.

"Tell your ghost to chill," Ryan muttered.

Jodie glared at him. "Maybe he'd chill if you didn't break my stuff."

"I didn't mean to break it!" Ryan said for the fifteenth time.

"Intentions don't fix toilets, Ryan," Jodie replied.

An hour later, Earl emerged from the bathroom, wiping his hands on a grimy rag. "Alright, it's fixed. But I'll tell ya, this is the weirdest call I've had in a while."

Ryan handed over his credit card, grumbling under his breath. "Thanks, Earl."

As Earl left, Jodie turned to Ryan, her arms crossed. "See? Was that so hard?"

Ryan smirked. "Well, I wouldn't call it a fun afternoon."

Jodie rolled her eyes. "Maybe next time, try not to destroy basic household items."

"Maybe next time, try living in a place with decent plumbing," Ryan shot back.

Aiden, clearly done with both of them, slammed the bathroom door shut.

As the day wound down, Jodie found herself laughing about the whole thing. Maybe it was the absurdity of the situation, or maybe it was the fact that Ryan looked genuinely embarrassed for once. Either way, the tension eased, and they managed to share a pizza without arguing.

But as they sat on the couch, Jodie couldn't resist one last jab. "So, are you planning on breaking anything else while you're here? Or should I just childproof the whole apartment?"

Ryan grinned, raising his hands in surrender. "I'll stick to the couch. Promise."

Jodie smirked. "Good. Because if you mess with my sink, Aiden will throw you out the window."

And for once, Ryan didn't argue.