Crazy? [MOONKNIGHTXREADER]

Chapter 10

Around an hour or two later, you had gotten word from your parents on which housing they'd allow you to use. You let them know that two friends would be staying with you, telling your parents, "they're close and I trust them, one of them just got through some complicated family stuff and the other is their support." You didn't give much away, but your parents were fine with it so long as no one wrecked the place.

From the outside, the building was pretty unassuming. It was within Lower Manhattan, just below Hell's Kitchen and near Chinatown. Getting to the company's main office would be a bit of a trek, but you could get there within an hour if you walked. But upon riding the elevator up to the top floor, Marc, Steven, and Layla all realized that you had a higher status than they first realized. The entirety of the top four floors were reserved for you as a part of the condo, and soon enough Layla realized that they were not actually in a condo- they were in a penthouse.

"Y/n?" Layla asked, taking in the minimalistic and expensive entryway. "Yeah?" You called back to her, already lugging your suitcase up marble-slab steps to your room. "How much is this place?" You frowned, stopping to think about it for a moment as you tapped a finger on your chin. "Oh.. I don't remember..." But you couldn't help the grin that spread across your face as you swung your arms enthusiastically. "Maybe somewhere around... 30?" Marc quirked a brow up at you. "Thousand..?" You giggled. "Million!" You squeaked, continuing up the stairs as Marc and Layla exchanged glances for the hundredth time that day. After a moment, you heard Steven exclaim, "30 MILLION?!" You burst out laughing, letting your suitcase fall to the floor of your bedroom. Running out, still beaming with red cheeks and laughing, you trotted down the stairs. "Come on! We've got bedrooms to fill people!" You told them in between breaths, taking one Layla's bags. "By the way, we have four rooms. So we have enough space for all of us, and a guest if need be."

Your room was by far the largest, since you were technically taking the room your parents would use. The other two rooms were on the floor above, and the fourth bedroom was technically a media room, but it could be converted into a bedroom with ease if it was required. You put Layla's bag into the first room, coming back down to see the two still staring and gawking in awe. Rolling your eyes, you hopped down the stairs and took their hands pulling them towards the upper levels. "Come on!"

Pulling them along, you skipped up the stairs until you were at the third floor of the penthouse. You pushed Layla into her bedroom, which already had one of her bags sitting on the bed, and pushed Marc into the other, which was just down the hall from Layla's room. "Have fun." You told him, giggling. "If you need anything, feel free to ask." You told him, backing away from the room. "Feel free to explore! I'll make something for us to eat!" You called out to the two, hurrying down the stairs.

Now, you didn't remember going to this penthouse very often, save for a few vacations. So the fact that your parents were lending it to you made you overjoyed. You were tempted to ask your parents why, but you decided to simply enjoy it and make food. Technically Layla was staying in your room, but chances were she wouldn't find much of your things there, save for maybe some books and such. Opening the fridge, you sagged, realizing that, of course there wouldn't be perishables in a penthouse you and your parents likely hadn't visited in years. You checked the pantry and found a few cans of soup, beets, corn and beans. Sighing, you called up to the others, "Nevermind, we're ordering in!" You told them, getting out your phone. "I'm gonna order some groceries while we're at it, too." You mumbled to yourself, leaning against the kitchen counter.

After a few minutes, Layla and Marc came downstairs, still looking around the penthouse with doe-eyes. You giggled. "You guys got any suggestions for food? I was thinking takeout." Layla laughed, shrugging. "Sounds alright to me. Sure you don't want gold encrusted steaks, though?" You rolled your eyes. "Ha-ha." You expressed sarcastically. "Y/n, how rich are you and your parents?" Marc asked, the crease in his brow hardly visible for once. "I mean, my dad is the CEO of a nationwide company he created, so pretty rich, I'd like to think. I didn't grow up entirely rich- we only really struck gold when I turned 17. So my parents made sure to raise me without a "rich kid" mindset." Marc nodded slowly, looking around the sleek steel and black themed kitchen, a soft, "huh" of affirmation escaping him.