[Or: the one where Lorenz does not return to his own apartment all night, suspiciously, and finally does come home in like, the middle of the morning. That's what he's doing now, hastily shuffling in his own front door as quietly as possible so as not to alert the nosy neighbors (actually just the one) that he is Home Now.
He has only two goals: to change his outfit and pretend he was here all along. He has obviously been home from 6pm until now and anyone who believes otherwise is sorely mistaken? It's the truth. So there he goes, making a beeline right for his bedroom, not stopping to prepare breakfast for anybody in his empty apartment because it is sooo empty...]
[Did Hilda fall asleep on Lorenz's couch after watching who knows how many episodes of some trashy television show? ...Listen. That isn't important. What is important is the fact that Hilda is still on Lorenz's couch at, like, ten in the morning, buried beneath a (purple) blanket as she scrolls through Prismagram. She knows that Lorenz is not here; like, she went a-knockin' on his bedroom door an hour or so ago, just to a) see if he was alive, since he wasn't making a pointed ruckus in the kitchen and b) ask if he'd like to go to brunch, because you take a Hilda to a brunch spot one (1) time and she's ready to return ASAP. That's life.
But if Lorenz isn't here, there's undoubtedly a reason for it—and she wants to know. She needs to know, which is why she freezes mid-scroll when she hears the front door swing open. Oh, she could pop up now; she probably should, truth be told, but as Lorenz walks right past the couch without saying a word, she's fairly certain that means he has no idea she's here...
...And that makes it all the more fun! So. She listens for just a bit longer, waiting until she's sure he's almost to his bedroom before she swiftly frees herself from the blanket and sits upright. 3... 2... 1...]
Good morning, Lorenz! Or was it a good evening?
[Hi. Hello. Hilda is here, chin resting atop the back of the couch as she offers Lorenz an oh-so sunny smile.]
Lorenz startles and smacks his hand into the doorknob, so he will be suing her for both physical and emotional damages shortly. A wiser man would just continue right on his way into his room and choose to live under the delusion that Hilda is not right there apparently, but Lorenz is not a wiser man... He looks over his shoulder at her, frazzled, but know that he's got the full scope of Irritable employed when he turns all the way around.
So hold on just a second!!]
What are you doing here? Were you— That couch is mine, you know.
[That's her! She remains precisely where she is as Lorenz turns around, looking for all the world like a prairie dog peeking its head out of its den. It doesn't matter how irritated Lorenz looks, or how fiercely he glares down at her; she is as blissfully unconcerned with his attitude as a person can possibly be, both because she knows Lorenz very well... and because she knows there's something here. A story! Some gossip.]
Oh, I do know, [she says, sweetly, as her eyes drift up? And up, too, go her eyebrows as she pointedly stares at, like, the top of Lorenz's head. Hmm.] Just like I know that you had fun. Long night?
[There's no need to answer why she's here, sir! She's putting on a performance... she's schemin'...]
[Will Lorenz cut his losses and give up now?? Still no. He crosses his arms and gives her his best frown, though it's not going to do anything. The worst thing about having friends for years is having friends for years, and that's just how it be. He's been caught... is there no mercy in this world...
And being as he is so, so easy to get a reaction out of, he immediately stiffens and squeezes his own arm very subtly in an effort to not automatically touch his own head. What!! What is it!!!]
I haven't the slightest idea what you're talking about. [hmph... take that.] What are you looking at?
[Lorenz's reactions are the best, really! Doubly so when he attempts to keep himself in check, which is why Hilda can't help herself. She has to keep this going? Has to see if his night was, ah, exciting enough to make him slip up now, so as meets his gaze once more, blinking back at him in what is clearly a surprised manner:]
You mean you don't know?
[A pause before she sits back the slightest bit, all so she can bring a hand to her mouth as she looks right back up at the top of his head.]
[Now, a person not preparing to phase into the fourth dimension from friendship-shame would stop and consider the much more obvious hole in their defense here: namely, the part that he's wearing the same clothes as yesterday, and knows he is wearing the same clothes as yesterday, and is just considering it a miracle that Hilda, fellow fashion snob, has not... noticed? He's had better moments of critical thinking.
But not this one!! Because he did spend time perfecting his hair this morning, actually, and so he makes a face and reaches up because what if he did not? Was it perhaps a dream that he spent the requisite minimum time on hair care despite limited product availability? So he reaches up, and then oh, goddamn it.
Perhaps if he simply stands here like this, the floor will open up and swallow him whole.]
[Yes, yes, there's the obvious—and then there's this? The slight satisfaction that comes with watching Lorenz reach up to pat his hair, because as stupid a scheme as it was, it was still a scheme... and it worked. Aha. Normal Lorenz would have probably, like, brushed her aside before striding into his bedroom; this Lorenz, however, did not, and that's all the confirmation she needs. Gotcha, bitch.]
It is, [she easily agrees, propping her chin in her hand as she once again leans over the back of the couch.] But you thought it might not be. What were you up to last night...
[Like, she knows. Anyone with half a brain would know, but she wants him to say it.]
[Get off his couch, schemer. He's putting up No Hildas Allowed signs ASAP. Hildas do not interact. He drops his hand with a huff, indignant, and looks over at... the kitchen. Anything but Hilda!!]
Nothing— [Nothing-that-concerns-you, specifically, but that's as good as saying it directly. He waves a hand, like he's totally casual and dismissing this. Casually.] If you must know, I had some tea.
[This is not untrue, so let him have this. Tea, Hilda.]
[This is so endearing? Has Hilda ever been more endeared in her life? When it comes to Lorenz, the answer is probably no... and thus her small, knowing smile only widens as she hums. Tea! "Some" tea.]
A lot of tea. You were gone all night...
[Implying that Hilda was, in fact, in his apartment all night, but details.]
Well, if you're not full from drinking all that tea, you should go to brunch with me! You can tell me about your favorite blends. [Ahem. But as she looks down at her watch, pretending to Think:] Or I could call someone else, if you're too tired?
[Does she need to say the name of the person they both know she'll call? 😇😇😇]
[Put that smile away, missy. Lorenz gives her a Look, still frowning, and he is so ready to turn down brunch and go lock himself in his room for at least twelve hours until she threatens him with phone calls? That is a threat. He grimaces, looking down and putting a hand over his face. No.....]
No, no. No, we are not having this conversation. You will stay right where you are and sit quietly. [do NOT touch that phone!] I am going to... change. Then we may see about brunch.
[So there, she will get her hush meal. It's obviously the lesser of, hmm, many evils, but she has to agree to behave while he goes and puts on a shirt that isn't a day old. He raises an eyebrow and waits for this confirmation. Ahem.]
[What's a teeny tiny threat between friends? And he just looks so cute like this!]
Of course! I'm sure you've been looking forward to changing all morning. Wearing the same clothes for so long is so unlike you.
[Just to let him know that, yes, she did notice that repeat outfit—and then she's sinking down into the cushions, the only visible part of her being the hand she airily waves above the back of the couch. There, there. She'll stop watching that face like a hawk, so go clean yourself up, Lorenz.]
[He is already immaculate, hush. He gives her another look for pointing it out- criminal- but finally retreats to the peace of his own room to get re-dressed and fuss over his hair yet again this morning. He doesn't even want brunch, he thinks irritably, as he frowns at the mirror for a good thirty seconds.
No, that's a lie. He wants brunch. He will be quick because he wants brunch now, not because she's dropping hints like they're going out of style. When he reemerges from his room he comes over to lean over the back of the couch and look at her lazy self. Hey......]
Shall we?
[Let's go, he's been shamed enough.]
Are you going to tell me what you were doing in my apartment all night, by the way?
[Good thing Hilda popped back into her apartment to shower after determining that Lorenz was out and about! Only to, you know. Come right back to crash on his couch, as is tradition. She was worried about him, okay... concerned for his well-being...
...Anyway. She's contemplating her nails when Lorenz peeks over the couch, but she lowers her hand to offer the person peering down at her another bright smile.]
Sleeping? What else would I be doing?
[She did not rearrange a very small Something (re: the tea in his kitchen cabinets) while she was waiting for him to return! Nope! So just let her hop right off the couch, stretching both arms above her head as she makes a beeline for the door.]
[Know that he very nearly tells her she better not have any tea dates in his apartment! but thinks better of it at the last second. No, that is too close to admitting his myriad sins. No. Brunch is the only thing happening now.
He follows her to the door, casually considering changing his locks? But he won't, and even he knows this, so that's a non-starter.]
Please. You know I'm referring to the fact that you have your own apartment just next door.
[He will even gesture at it as they head out into the hall, for petty emphasis. Time to argue about this in the elevator...]
Now, if there were some problem with yours that necessitated this, that would be another story. But I think I should have heard about it before now.
[That is indeed her apartment door, Lorenz—and she breezes right past it, hurrying to the elevator to smack that button. It's the little things in life, you know? All of this new technology is wild, but as she has nowhere to go while they wait for the fuckin' elevator... ah, well.]
There's nothing wrong with my apartment, buuut...
[She draws that short word out, pouting as she does so—but there's that telltale ding of the elevator reaching their floor, so let her step right into the darn thing as soon as the doors open. Hmm, hmm, hmm.]
Yours is just... better, [she admits with a shrug, once again reaching out to smack the button before Lorenz can.] You've put so much thought into it! The colors, the furniture—I can never make up my mind, but you have excellent taste.
[And the couch is very comfortable, The End, now she can go back to looking Chipper as they make their way to the ground floor.]
[She can't praise his top quality design sense to get out of trouble...!! It helps, but he's still folding his arms and giving her a sideways Look as they stand here in this elevator.]
Yes, it is a prime example of good taste. I know. I seem to recall someone being impatient on how much time it took me to settle on the colors...
[You know, the minutely different shades of purple. Maybe he'll do a complete overhaul one day and change it all to even more shades of purple.
But first: ding, time to walk to brunch. He gestures for her to go ahead.]
Just honor my one request, effective immediately: let me know in the future.
[Oh, forget interior decorating. Complimenting his amazing taste did what she needed it to do, more or less—and thus she hops right out of the elevator after offering him a, like, half-curtsy. Nobles™.]
Of course, [she easily acquiesces, and that's probably a bad sign.] I'll do my best to stay awake long enough to ask. I just get so tired...
[Because she's a delicate maiden, woe is her, she's probably-definitely going to need a nap after leading the way to their favorite brunch spot. At least she's setting a peppy pace.]
But how will I tell you if you're gone? I mean, if I accidentally fall asleep again, but then wake back up... [Hmm, hmm, hmm.] I wouldn't want to interrupt anything, but when I couldn't find you this morning, I was worried!
[Is that a compliment, or a dig? Either way, it works for her. Prepare for twenty texts in a row, each one consisting of one (1) winky-face emoji...
..Maybe. Possibly. Hilda isn't, like, Lorenz's mother; she's well aware that he can handle himself, but as she looks up at him—]
A little, [she honestly admits, allowing her mask to drop just a bit.] We've been here for so long, I know, but...
[But they come from a war-torn land where Bad Shit just happens, etc etc, so surely Hilda doesn't need to say it; she's free to go back to her carefree sort of self, swinging her arms a bit as she picks right back up with:]
But you're here now! And you met someone. I'm glad.
[Aw, Hilda. It's probably true that he could have been lost somewhere with Bad Shit happening, just logically, but he'll appreciate her moment of concern for what it is instead of admitting that he still only has about 10% of an idea of what's going on in this place. Compromise!
Or: aw, Hilda!! He's touched, which is why he doesn't immediately turn around and go back into the apartment building when she brings up his sinful existence again. This is going to give him a permanent twitch.]
That's... [hildaaaa] a highly inappropriate conversation for brunch.
[Or ever, if he has any say in it, but fine--] Believe me when I say you need not make it into a whole production.
[Hey, she was honest; that means he needs to be honest, in turn, or... something. That's friendship! That's what he's signed up for, whether he likes it or not! And something, something, Lorenz's happiness is as important to her as the happiness of any of their fellow Deer, so here she is. Invested in Lorenz's love life, because he's picky and she knows it.]
I won't! It's not like I want to know everything.
[There are Deets, Lorenz, and then there is TMI. She is only interested in the former, hence the, mmm, innocent(-ish) look she shoots him. Loreeeeeeeeeenz...]
But I do want to know about your tea date. Tell me about them?
[He rolls his eyes but in a good-natured way, for sure. She's nosy and he treasures her, so she can have the bare minimum amount of Deets he can get away with before he evaporates in shame on the spot.
Probably, they have different thresholds for Deets Shame. It's fine.]
Well... he is an artist. Quite skilled. I learned a great deal about the application of artistic works to improve the quality of one's... soul. Possibly.
[You know, it was a little unclear; there might have been magic? It was pretentious enough for Lorenz (tm).]
[How far away is their favorite brunch spot, anyway? Probably not too far, which is as big a draw as its bottomless mimosa special—but they still have just enough time for Hilda to wonder why Lorenz is the way that he is. Only Lorenz would learn something like that during... well, something like that. Whew.
But it is her job as Best Friend to support him! Always, which is why she claps her hands together excitedly.]
Ooh, an artist. How perfect for you!
[Because Lorenz is a connoisseur of the fine arts, etc, etc—but then there is the briefest of pauses. A sign, perhaps, of what is to come, because as Hilda turns to better face him:]
So... is he a work of art? [she asks, the perfect picture of innocence.] Did he "improve the quality" of...
[Hmm, yes, she will let that sentence trail right off. A simple kindness.]
[He has priorities? Can a man not learn about art and pretentious magic whenever he pleases? When will he be able to drink too many mimosas in peace...
In any case: he sighs, pinching the bridge of his nose in exasperation, if only because he anticipated these questions and she still found a way to make them more ridiculous. Hilda, good gracious.]
Truly, I am a changed man. [Flatly; but actually, you know,] Hilda. You know my standards are as exacting as they are lofty.
[Lorenz Hellman Gloucester, settle for an uggo? He would sooner perish.]
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it's the walk of shame thread, time has no meaning this was like a week ago ig
He has only two goals: to change his outfit and pretend he was here all along. He has obviously been home from 6pm until now and anyone who believes otherwise is sorely mistaken? It's the truth. So there he goes, making a beeline right for his bedroom, not stopping to prepare breakfast for anybody in his empty apartment because it is sooo empty...]
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But if Lorenz isn't here, there's undoubtedly a reason for it—and she wants to know. She needs to know, which is why she freezes mid-scroll when she hears the front door swing open. Oh, she could pop up now; she probably should, truth be told, but as Lorenz walks right past the couch without saying a word, she's fairly certain that means he has no idea she's here...
...And that makes it all the more fun! So. She listens for just a bit longer, waiting until she's sure he's almost to his bedroom before she swiftly frees herself from the blanket and sits upright. 3... 2... 1...]
Good morning, Lorenz! Or was it a good evening?
[Hi. Hello. Hilda is here, chin resting atop the back of the couch as she offers Lorenz an oh-so sunny smile.]
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Lorenz startles and smacks his hand into the doorknob, so he will be suing her for both physical and emotional damages shortly. A wiser man would just continue right on his way into his room and choose to live under the delusion that Hilda is not right there apparently, but Lorenz is not a wiser man... He looks over his shoulder at her, frazzled, but know that he's got the full scope of Irritable employed when he turns all the way around.
So hold on just a second!!]
What are you doing here? Were you— That couch is mine, you know.
[Issue 1: who let you in, gurl.]
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Oh, I do know, [she says, sweetly, as her eyes drift up? And up, too, go her eyebrows as she pointedly stares at, like, the top of Lorenz's head. Hmm.] Just like I know that you had fun. Long night?
[There's no need to answer why she's here, sir! She's putting on a performance... she's schemin'...]
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And being as he is so, so easy to get a reaction out of, he immediately stiffens and squeezes his own arm very subtly in an effort to not automatically touch his own head. What!! What is it!!!]
I haven't the slightest idea what you're talking about. [hmph... take that.] What are you looking at?
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You mean you don't know?
[A pause before she sits back the slightest bit, all so she can bring a hand to her mouth as she looks right back up at the top of his head.]
Oh, Lorenz. [Oh, honey.] Your hair...
[Is perfectly fine, of course.]
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But not this one!! Because he did spend time perfecting his hair this morning, actually, and so he makes a face and reaches up because what if he did not? Was it perhaps a dream that he spent the requisite minimum time on hair care despite limited product availability? So he reaches up, and then oh, goddamn it.
Perhaps if he simply stands here like this, the floor will open up and swallow him whole.]
...Hilda. My hair is fine.
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It is, [she easily agrees, propping her chin in her hand as she once again leans over the back of the couch.] But you thought it might not be. What were you up to last night...
[Like, she knows. Anyone with half a brain would know, but she wants him to say it.]
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Nothing— [Nothing-that-concerns-you, specifically, but that's as good as saying it directly. He waves a hand, like he's totally casual and dismissing this. Casually.] If you must know, I had some tea.
[This is not untrue, so let him have this. Tea, Hilda.]
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A lot of tea. You were gone all night...
[Implying that Hilda was, in fact, in his apartment all night, but details.]
Well, if you're not full from drinking all that tea, you should go to brunch with me! You can tell me about your favorite blends. [Ahem. But as she looks down at her watch, pretending to Think:] Or I could call someone else, if you're too tired?
[Does she need to say the name of the person they both know she'll call? 😇😇😇]
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No, no. No, we are not having this conversation. You will stay right where you are and sit quietly. [do NOT touch that phone!] I am going to... change. Then we may see about brunch.
[So there, she will get her hush meal. It's obviously the lesser of, hmm, many evils, but she has to agree to behave while he goes and puts on a shirt that isn't a day old. He raises an eyebrow and waits for this confirmation. Ahem.]
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Of course! I'm sure you've been looking forward to changing all morning. Wearing the same clothes for so long is so unlike you.
[Just to let him know that, yes, she did notice that repeat outfit—and then she's sinking down into the cushions, the only visible part of her being the hand she airily waves above the back of the couch. There, there. She'll stop watching that face like a hawk, so go clean yourself up, Lorenz.]
But I'm very hungry...
[Hint, hint.]
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No, that's a lie. He wants brunch. He will be quick because he wants brunch now, not because she's dropping hints like they're going out of style. When he reemerges from his room he comes over to lean over the back of the couch and look at her lazy self. Hey......]
Shall we?
[Let's go, he's been shamed enough.]
Are you going to tell me what you were doing in my apartment all night, by the way?
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...Anyway. She's contemplating her nails when Lorenz peeks over the couch, but she lowers her hand to offer the person peering down at her another bright smile.]
Sleeping? What else would I be doing?
[She did not rearrange a very small Something (re: the tea in his kitchen cabinets) while she was waiting for him to return! Nope! So just let her hop right off the couch, stretching both arms above her head as she makes a beeline for the door.]
I didn't have an exciting... tea date.
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He follows her to the door, casually considering changing his locks? But he won't, and even he knows this, so that's a non-starter.]
Please. You know I'm referring to the fact that you have your own apartment just next door.
[He will even gesture at it as they head out into the hall, for petty emphasis. Time to argue about this in the elevator...]
Now, if there were some problem with yours that necessitated this, that would be another story. But I think I should have heard about it before now.
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There's nothing wrong with my apartment, buuut...
[She draws that short word out, pouting as she does so—but there's that telltale ding of the elevator reaching their floor, so let her step right into the darn thing as soon as the doors open. Hmm, hmm, hmm.]
Yours is just... better, [she admits with a shrug, once again reaching out to smack the button before Lorenz can.] You've put so much thought into it! The colors, the furniture—I can never make up my mind, but you have excellent taste.
[And the couch is very comfortable, The End, now she can go back to looking Chipper as they make their way to the ground floor.]
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Yes, it is a prime example of good taste. I know. I seem to recall someone being impatient on how much time it took me to settle on the colors...
[You know, the minutely different shades of purple. Maybe he'll do a complete overhaul one day and change it all to even more shades of purple.
But first: ding, time to walk to brunch. He gestures for her to go ahead.]
Just honor my one request, effective immediately: let me know in the future.
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Of course, [she easily acquiesces, and that's probably a bad sign.] I'll do my best to stay awake long enough to ask. I just get so tired...
[Because she's a delicate maiden, woe is her, she's probably-definitely going to need a nap after leading the way to their favorite brunch spot. At least she's setting a peppy pace.]
But how will I tell you if you're gone? I mean, if I accidentally fall asleep again, but then wake back up... [Hmm, hmm, hmm.] I wouldn't want to interrupt anything, but when I couldn't find you this morning, I was worried!
[Her dear, deer pal...]
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But please, Hilda--]
I daresay you will figure out how to send an unobtrusive message. You are resourceful in that regard.
[In being unobtrusive for profit, he means... and pointedly: please do not call him if it's after 10pm and he's not around, he will die.]
...Were you actually worried? [Could be endearing, could be an eyeroll...]
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..Maybe. Possibly. Hilda isn't, like, Lorenz's mother; she's well aware that he can handle himself, but as she looks up at him—]
A little, [she honestly admits, allowing her mask to drop just a bit.] We've been here for so long, I know, but...
[But they come from a war-torn land where Bad Shit just happens, etc etc, so surely Hilda doesn't need to say it; she's free to go back to her carefree sort of self, swinging her arms a bit as she picks right back up with:]
But you're here now! And you met someone. I'm glad.
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Or: aw, Hilda!! He's touched, which is why he doesn't immediately turn around and go back into the apartment building when she brings up his sinful existence again. This is going to give him a permanent twitch.]
That's... [hildaaaa] a highly inappropriate conversation for brunch.
[Or ever, if he has any say in it, but fine--] Believe me when I say you need not make it into a whole production.
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I won't! It's not like I want to know everything.
[There are Deets, Lorenz, and then there is TMI. She is only interested in the former, hence the, mmm, innocent(-ish) look she shoots him. Loreeeeeeeeeenz...]
But I do want to know about your tea date. Tell me about them?
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Probably, they have different thresholds for Deets Shame. It's fine.]
Well... he is an artist. Quite skilled. I learned a great deal about the application of artistic works to improve the quality of one's... soul. Possibly.
[You know, it was a little unclear; there might have been magic? It was pretentious enough for Lorenz (tm).]
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But it is her job as Best Friend to support him! Always, which is why she claps her hands together excitedly.]
Ooh, an artist. How perfect for you!
[Because Lorenz is a connoisseur of the fine arts, etc, etc—but then there is the briefest of pauses. A sign, perhaps, of what is to come, because as Hilda turns to better face him:]
So... is he a work of art? [she asks, the perfect picture of innocence.] Did he "improve the quality" of...
[Hmm, yes, she will let that sentence trail right off. A simple kindness.]
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In any case: he sighs, pinching the bridge of his nose in exasperation, if only because he anticipated these questions and she still found a way to make them more ridiculous. Hilda, good gracious.]
Truly, I am a changed man. [Flatly; but actually, you know,] Hilda. You know my standards are as exacting as they are lofty.
[Lorenz Hellman Gloucester, settle for an uggo? He would sooner perish.]
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