Mary: "Rejoice, for you are forgiven!"
Markus: "If I'd known it was that easy to appease you I'd have brought you beer five months ago. You could have played me for ages-think of all the free booze you missed out on."
Mary: "Damn, I gave in too quickly."
Markus: "Don't worry, I'll make sure to do something completely rational again and we can start from the beginning."
Mary: "I'll remember to be more manipulative next time."

Emily: "I'm afraid we'll have to eat picnic style. Seems we missed a minor detail in the whole 'starting fresh' thing."
Serge: "Furniture is over-rated. Do you at least have utensils? I didn't think to make finger food."
Emily: "Utensils we have. I think. I'm pretty sure. I'll check the boxes in the kitchen."
Markus: "So all we'll need is a blanket and we can eat!"

Emily left the living room, her smile fading slightly as she entered the dingy kitchen. Mary may have been throwing herself into their new independence with reckless abandon, but she found herself having a harder time working past her worries of the future and the bitterness of the past.

She quickly found the box labeled 'forks n crap' in Mary's scrawling handwriting, taking note of the rough texture of the cardboard against her hands as she removed the tape holding the box closed. She pulled out waded up newspapers, freezing at a familiar visage staring blankly forward under a small headline proclaiming a recent charity event an "unparalleled success". The room flashed white as a sleeping rage began to stir deep inside her, quickly settling back as she took a closer look at the picture. Devil horns and a large forked tail had been scribbled in with a dull pencil, coupled with dramatically curved eyebrows and pointed ears. She smiled softly, grabbing a handful of forks and knives in one hand and tossing the wadded up newspaper across the room with the other.

As she joined her friends on the living room floor, she caught Mary's eye and smiled widely, her own smile reflected in her friend's understanding gaze. The carpet was now covered with a large quilt, upon which sat several plates of food that seemed to have materialized out of thin air.

Emily: "You made all of this for us?"
Serge: "Cooking is my passion, and I know how much moving sucks."
Mary: "This is beyond amazing."
Markus: "I had to stop him before this turned into a seven-course meal that wouldn't fit in the car."

Emily's smile widened as she put a heaping spoonful of potato salad onto her plate, its sharp and familiar smell teasing out faded memories of picnics at the beach with her grandparents. Before long the last of the daylight outside faded away completely, replaced by the sodium glare of the streetlights coming through the thin curtains on the windows. Just as Emily was beginning to wonder if it would be worth the effort to invest in somewhat more substantial coverings, there was another knock at the door.

Mary: "Your turn, Em. I got it last time."
Emily: "Fine, just don't steal my ribs."
Mary: "I make no promises."