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This cannot end well.
Who: Blair and Fiona
When: Late morning
Where: MacCutcheon house
Fiona's husband could control what she wore. Aside from a few snacks she had hidden around the house, he could control what she ate. He could control what channels were allowed on the TV, and just about every other aspect of her life. But one thing Bruce MacCutcheon could not control was what kind of music she listened to when he wasn't there. Or how loudly she listened to it. Fiona's tastes were rather eclectic, and while she did enjoy some good rock and roll, she often tended to drift towards pop and top 40 for a very simple reason. It was silly and cheerful and not particularly heavy on the mind, and more often than not she felt like she needed that. That morning she'd had a local pop station blasting as she cleaned the house, and she was rather getting into a Britney Spears song when the sound of the doorbell registered over the rest of the noise.
Fiona paused, mid-dance routine paired with a mop, and took a brief glance at her watch. It was too early for the postman, and anyway, she didn't think Bruce was expecting anything big. He was very good about telling her if she needed to wait at the house to accept a package for one reason or another. Sighing, Fiona put the mop aside, turned the radio down, and headed for the front door.
The absolute last person she would have expected to see was her sister, but there she was. Fiona's jaw dropped. Words? Had completely failed her.
When: Late morning
Where: MacCutcheon house
Fiona's husband could control what she wore. Aside from a few snacks she had hidden around the house, he could control what she ate. He could control what channels were allowed on the TV, and just about every other aspect of her life. But one thing Bruce MacCutcheon could not control was what kind of music she listened to when he wasn't there. Or how loudly she listened to it. Fiona's tastes were rather eclectic, and while she did enjoy some good rock and roll, she often tended to drift towards pop and top 40 for a very simple reason. It was silly and cheerful and not particularly heavy on the mind, and more often than not she felt like she needed that. That morning she'd had a local pop station blasting as she cleaned the house, and she was rather getting into a Britney Spears song when the sound of the doorbell registered over the rest of the noise.
Fiona paused, mid-dance routine paired with a mop, and took a brief glance at her watch. It was too early for the postman, and anyway, she didn't think Bruce was expecting anything big. He was very good about telling her if she needed to wait at the house to accept a package for one reason or another. Sighing, Fiona put the mop aside, turned the radio down, and headed for the front door.
The absolute last person she would have expected to see was her sister, but there she was. Fiona's jaw dropped. Words? Had completely failed her.