Mrs. Plum was an awfully sweet woman in her late 30’s. It was strange as to how nobody seemed to treat her right. It was for this reason the pair would stop by Mr. Plum so often, in order to see his lovely wife. At the very least, Luce felt inclined to talk to Mr. Plum to see his wife every so often, or to enjoy her cooking. Charles, on the other hand, simply enjoyed the free booze, but would pretend to enjoy their interactions for the sake of everyone else. Those two had been chopping meat for less than 2 minutes, when Luce suddenly stopped and sighed. “Charlie.. are we really cutting up meat for them? I mean it’s not like we get anything from it..” Charles looked down, knowing full and well that he simply wanted to spend his free time with Luce, but didn’t say anything. Skillfully chopping the last piece, he had finished his pile, but watched his less passionate co-chef chop leisurely. “What I mean is..” Luce continued, “Why are we always doing their chores? I hate it..” Charles continued his silence but helped Luce finish the last of their part to end the complaining. Just as Luce was rambing, Mrs. Plum had entered the apartment with bags of groceries. “Good evening boys.. My husband has you helping me again?” She said placing her coat down and entering the kitchen. “We wanted to help you Mrs. Plum!” Charles said enthusiastically. Luce nodded with matched energy. Mrs. Plum began to grind the meat and make her usual meatballs. It was quiet for a long while, and since Mrs. Plum was obviously busy, the two figured it best to sit down for a minute. “Wanna hang out later Luce” Charles said. Luce slowly nodded. “I think it’d be good if we went to the farmers market!” Charles giggled out. Luce shook their head. “Where do you want go…?” Charles wanted to know but Luce would not reply. “Are you not speaking to me because Mrs. Plum is here?” Charles finally figured out, then Mrs. Plum, intrigued, spoke softly. “If– he can even talk.. I wouldn’t want him to be afraid to do something because I’m here.” Luce smiled at Mrs. Plum but didn’t speak. “You boys!” she continued. “You know, my husband doesn’t like to speak to me either. You want to end up like him?” she joked. “I’m not a boy or girl Mrs. Plum.” Luce chuckled, slowly getting up from the couch. “Who would’ve thought you were british??” Mrs. Plum jested, and the entire apartment bursted into playful laughs.
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