WHO: Adrian and Astoria WHERE: Their flat WHEN: Thursday Morning WHAT: Astoria is cursed RATING: Low-ish?
What the hell was going on. Astoria was 'ruined'. He felt like he was in some gothic romance novel, the sort his mother used to keep tucked in her night stand and that Adrian used to steal and read aloud with voices when they had guests over. What in the hell did she mean by ruined. Apparently it wasn't sex and while he was 100% certain Astoria could use a good lay he also knew that it would probably meet with much the same reaction unless she was married or well on the way to being so.
He drug himself out from under his covers, sore from an extra hard workout the day before and pulled shorts up and over his boxers and added a tee to the ensemble. Raking hair back from his head and tying it back for the time being he grabbed some track pants and another tee, clean just for Astoria, and headed out of his room.
"Astoria?" He called out looking down the hall. "Where are you and why are you being so damn weird?"