ᴀ sᴜᴍᴍᴇʀ's ᴅᴀʏ - Nick Miller

ᴛʜᴇ ʟᴀɴᴅʟᴏʀᴅ

Cassy walked into 4D, holding a small stack of dirty dishes. Her dishwasher was broken and she didn't have any regular dish soap, so she decided she'd ask to borrow their sink for a few minutes. Nick was sitting on the couch, the others sitting around the kitchen table.

"Hey guys. Can I borrow your sink? My dishwasher's broken and I don't have any soap." Cassy said, putting her dishes down.

"Why can't you just borrow the soap?" Winston asked, raising an eyebrow.

"Because Jess keeps it in the little brush thing with the glitter." Schmidt replied as Cassy pulled up a small, completely bedazzled container that held the dish soap. He waved her off. "Go ahead."

Cassy put the soap down, turning on the tap. The pipes rumbled for a few minutes before the faucet popped off of the sink, immediately spraying Cassy with water. She shrieked at the cold temperature, stumbling back.

"Nick!" Schmidt yelled. Nick ran over, the game still playing on the TV as he ran to the sink, turning off the tap and duct-taping the faucet back on.

"Fixed it." He said. Cassy sighed, wringing out the bottom of her t-shirt.

"Jesus, you guys. Maybe I should call the landlord-"

"No!" All three men shouted.

"Don't call the landlord. We don't need him here. He's a jerk." Nick said, shaking his head.

"Well I have to get my dishwasher fixed anyways-"

"No, Cassy, he's a terrible person." Schmidt assured.

"He sucks." Winston added.

"Don't call the landlord. I'm serious." Nick urged, leaning against the counter. He reached over, throwing a dish towel at Cassy. She frowned, catching it and drying herself off.

"Fine, I won't call the landlord." Cassy said, throwing the towel back at him and grabbing her dishes. She grabbed the soap container, and figured she would deal with Jess later.

"Bring it back!" Winston called.

-

Cassy dropped off her dishes and changed from her wet black t-shirt into a white t-shirt, taking the elevator down to the basement to find the landlord. She was sure the guys were just exaggerating, he couldn't be that bad. She knocked on the wall as she walked through the door, finding a man in coveralls sitting on a crate, sharpening a broom handle with a knife in the dim light. That's totally not insanely creepy.

"Uh, Hello?" Cassy called quietly. He glanced up. "Um, Hi. I'm Cassy, I live up in 4C?" She asked. He turned away, continuing to sharpen the broom. She looked at the bucket on the floor beside her, sniffing. It was... gasoline. Great. "Um, hey, so... my dishwasher's broken, and I was wondering if you might-"

"No." He said simply. She blinked, and he moved over to his desk, taking a seat.

"Okay... you know what? Uh, Remy?"

"How'd you know my name?" He asked, glaring as he looked up at her.

"Your tattoo... it says "Hello, my name is Remy" and I just... guessed?" She replied. He nodded, turning back to his files. "Please, I'm sure you're a nice guy, and I just really need my dishwasher fixed."

"Fine." He said, standing up.

"Oh, really? Uh, great. Right this way." She said, almost running out of the office. She led him upstairs and into her apartment, and he looked around.

"Nice." He said simply.

"Oh, thanks. One of the neighbours said you haven't leased this place in a while." She pointed out.