[h3]Viola & [@Hitman]
[sup]The Apartment - Monday Morning[/sup][/h3]
[center][color=indianred]”That dammed alarm — I’m going to kill him.”[/color][/center]

Viola gripped the ends of her blanket and pulled it reluctantly over here face as she overheard her partner rise from the depths of slumber on a Monday morning and get an early start on the day. The responsible thing to do, yes, but the humane thing — she would beg to differ. But nonetheless, the meister would attempt to return to her beauty sleep as the alarm was silenced quickly by golden boy Austin. 

[center][color=indianred]”Ten more minutes, I swear.”[/color][/center]

She grumbled quietly to herself through the sheets and blankets, and rolled back into the haze of disassociation. But that time would soon come to pass and Viola would eventually grip the sheets and pull them down to slide out of bed. The meister’s eyes were sunken, dark circles, squinting as her gaze aimed throughout the dimly lit bedroom. Her bare feet would find themselves sliding from the side of the bed and searched around for two small black slip-on sandals — and as they found them Viola pressed herself to wake into a zombie like state. 

Her destination wasn’t to the bathroom to fix herself up or anything of that I’ll, no, she instead made way directly to the kitchen. The sound of the slippers sliding along the apartment floor with a ‘kshhh!’ reverberating throughout the small apartment space. Her efforts as minimal as they’d be would arrive her at — the kitchen table. She grumpily, snappily, pulled a wooden chair out from beneath it and would slump into the seat. Viola’s gaze typically fiery and hostile, but at this hour, it would be emit a different aura altogether. And with it she would aim her sights over to the weapon companion.


[center][color=indianred]”Nourishment - nourishment - nourishment....”[/color][/center]

Monday was hell, and as much as she wanted to become the next meister to receive that oh - so coveted title, on days like this she could do without waking up early and driven. So instead she would wake up in this current state, a black and red striped t-shirt that was a size too large for extra comfort, and matching pajama pants that were hemmed so she wouldn’t drag them, oh and those forementioned slippers that made the horrible sound. Her hair was a mess, sticking up in numerous locations and good lord the back of her head had been sticking straight out in some sort of ‘Sonic the Hedgehog’ hairstyle. But of course Vi did not care at an hour like this, on a day like this, she cared about nothing but food right now — and in this moment he was slacking as a partner by assuming it was safe to skip cooking breakfast and pour a bowl of cereal. 
 
Her destination wasn’t to the bathroom to fix herself up or anything of that I’ll, no, she instead made way directly to the kitchen. The sound of the slippers sliding along the apartment floor with a ‘[b]kshhh![/b]’ reverberating throughout the small apartment space. Her efforts as minimal as they’d be would arrive her at — the kitchen table. She grumpily, snappily, pulled a wooden chair out from beneath it and would slump into the seat. Viola’s gaze typically fiery and hostile, but at this hour, it would be emit a different aura altogether. And with it she would aim her sights over to the weapon companion.


[center][color=indianred]”Please.”[/color] She quietly announced under her breath, a small pout falling upon her expression.[/center]