Gere stared at the laundry. Pene stared, too, but mostly at Gere.
“I know you don’t have a kid. I would have had to help you fill out the paperwork.”
“All things considered, you would have had to help me with a lot more than just the paperwork. So. I don’t have a kid.”
“True. And, just in case this is somehow in question, neither do I.”
“I know that. But the thing is, Pene, those aren’t your 900-credit pants, are they?”
“Why in the legions and the stardust would you ever pay 900 credits for a pair of pants?”
“Well, they’ve got stardust in them, for one; they make my ass look amazing, and when I’m meeting with 900 million-credit clients, they make me look like I belong there and not in the kitchen.”
“Right. So, those are your pants?”
“Those are my pants. That’s my vest beneath it and, if you pick those up, that’s my socks and underwear and whatnot – it’s my clothes. Just in case someone else nearby has exactly the same tastes as me, I checked for the tiny rip I had repaired in my favorite vest and the way the pants are hemmed with a very narrow hem to allow for –“
“Yes, yes, you’re a giant, we all know that. Gere. It’s your laundry, come back to you from our laundromat. What’s the problem?”
Gere lifted up all of the afore-discussed laundry to reveal a small pile of mostly-clean diapers, with an apologetic note. “These. And,” under the carefully-lifted diapers were a pile of onesies and an adorable baby set of pants-and-vest, very like the aforementioned set of Gere’s. “And…”
“…and we don’t have a kid. Gere, who sends diapers to the laundromat? Whose diapers have stains the laundromat can’t get out?”
“…and who dresses their baby just like me? We have some problems here.”
This entry was originally posted at http://aldersprig.dreamwidth.org/1231196.html. You can comment here or there.