Oh god, Stiles really, really needed to start running again. She was out of breath by the time she reached the guy, her bag hanging off one shoulder and her laundry basket felt like a lead weight. "You-- you took my laundry. That's my stuff."
And she really couldn't help the flush creeping into her cheeks, all the way to the tips of her ears, because right on the top of the pile was her bra. The only nice one she owned, with lace-y bits, but-- there it was. "And I'm pretty sure this is uh. Well. Yours. Or not yours yours. Your... girlfriend's?"
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timeasmymeasure
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Date: 2015-03-01 12:57 am (UTC)And she really couldn't help the flush creeping into her cheeks, all the way to the tips of her ears, because right on the top of the pile was her bra. The only nice one she owned, with lace-y bits, but-- there it was. "And I'm pretty sure this is uh. Well. Yours. Or not yours yours. Your... girlfriend's?"