notrestingyet: (Default)
It was kind of nice to be on his own again, or it had been up until the point Samuel realized he'd gotten too used to living with another person. Another person who enjoyed baking and cleaning when she got stressed. If he started missing Mercy's baking, there was a perfectly good bakery in this town to take care of that problem, but he'd gotten used to not having to clean and now it was coming back to bite him. He was a fairly tidy person by nature, but he'd somehow been neglecting things like scrubbing and mopping.

So he was spending his Saturday wearing Dorky Yellow Gloves of Cleaning and making his apartment spotless. It kept him out of trouble.
notrestingyet: (wolf-eyed)
Samuel had had a diverting day of killing things. It had been a while since he'd really cut loose in that manner, and he found he didn't like it that much, or maybe that was just because the alligators tasted nasty. It had been necessary, though, to protect those who were less indestructible than your average werewolf (or your above average werewolf). Then he'd come home, shifted, and washed the alligator bits off himself--then cleaned up the alligator bits he'd tracked in. Then he'd packed an overnight bag, because one could not simply drive into DC, give a speech to make one's father happy, and leave, no, there had to be meetings and receptions and politics.

Still, he supposed, better him than Charles.


notrestingyet: (Default)

August 2009

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