Rolling her eyes, Verity grabbed two beers and kicked the fridge closed. This was her life. Fred dropping by, scaring the crap out of her, then disappearing as quickly as he'd come. She made her way into the living room and tossed herself onto the couch, setting the bottles onto the coffee table.
Unable to get comfortable, she propped herself up precariously on the cushions and reached behind to where her clean laundry basket was. She grabbed a tank top off the top of the pile of clean, folded clothes that were waiting to be put away and yanked it on, after tugging off her scourgified shirt.
She settled back on the couch and made herself comfy, resting her feet on the arm and waiting impatiently for Fred.