[She’s figured at this point to stop caring about who he is, what he wants— she’s been through worse, and if anything bad be coming, she cried herself out. Nothing can hurt her as bad now. ]
“I’ve never even talked to my neighbors.”
[She’s cued into the monotone, bored young woman she is around people she’s gotten used to seeing. She yanks open her window further, stepping away. How lucky for him; she’s in her underwear. Stepping away, she pulls a pack of cigarettes and stares grudgingly at him. ]
”I was sleeping. Doesn’t matter. You can come in, but I’m not making you pancakes and if you stab me, please don’t get the blood on the carpet.”
“Strange. They’re very knowledgeable about you.”
[ He tugs on one of the drapes inquiringly –– she should really keep these closed, especially if she’s going to be stumbling around in her underwear. Maybe she’s trying to make a point. He might understand that. ]
“Oh. I’m sorry. You can go back to sleep if you want. Or I can make you coffee and we can sit and I can apologize. I think I remember how to make coffee.”
[ He must have watched a Youtube tutorial or something. Or maybe he saw someone do it. He can’t think straight. She’s in her underwear –– that shouldn’t bother him –– it bothers him a lot –––- ]
“ ––- why would you think I-I would want to stab you?”
