DRAFT

Artist, Writer, and Hunger

Several people grumbled in the middle of the apartment. One of them glared at the door leading to the Artist's room, while some went on their own things.

"I told you, we should go and see if they're already doing it," a guy with an unruly dark brown hair pointed out. He was seated on the floor with his back leaning on the sofa edge, glaring hotly at the door.

A woman with thick black framed glasses kept her sights on her book and said, "But Sabine firmly said we shouldn't disturb them." She then flipped another page of her book, settling on the floor in a Cleopatra manner, ignoring the restlessness from her stomach.

The guy with an unruly hair was then elbowed on the sides by another who was wearing a baseball cap. "Let's see you try going there and disturb them, Patrick," he quipped, glaring at the messy haired brunette as he too was feeling uneasy.

Patrick, the one who kept glaring at the Artist's door, sets his sharp sights on the one who jabbed his ribs. "But I'm hungry! We all are! Why don't you go and get her then, Kyle?"

"No, you try it dumbass!" Kyle retorted, glaring back at the brunette. He then pointed at the woman with glasses. "I can hear Jade's mumbling annoyances and you don't see her whining."

The two men were then locked in a glaring match, growling at each other, and then engaged themselves in an arm slapping trades. The others ignored how they acted, continuing on with their tasks at hand.

A woman with raven hair and as if stepped out of a fashion magazine sighed in agreement "Oh Sabine's words were firm. I'd pay for someone who would be brave enough to try going to their one on one sessions. Isn't that right Marlon?"

Marlon nodded, adjusting his wavy bangs. "Si, señorita Rozalie. Señorita Sabine did lay it out to not to disturb them unless the whole building was on fire. She emphasized on that scenario." he said with a slight tremble in his tone. It was bad enough that Sabine joined their motley crew, but hogging their friend was worse.

They all agreed it was the worst. No one could cook for them like how the Artist can.

Marlon diverted this attention from his artistic friends to the woman laying on one of the sofa and winked at her. "Oye mamacita~ care to join us?" he asked the woman lounging in the sofa.

The said woman, dressed in a casual large t-shirt and loose pajamas, stopped reading the book she was holding – Not Your Sidekick by C.B Lee – and looked at Marlon with a raised brow.

The Writer.

Seeing the flirty grin of the Spanish born artist, the Writer shook her head, heaved a heavy sigh, and returned her attention to her book. She wanted to curse her luck loudly seeing that her supposed to be a quiet afternoon was replaced by another session with a bunch of rowdy artists. Her plans was supposed to be lazing around, reading a newly purchased book, and having a cup of coffee. A rest day from all the deadlines she had to meet and the demands of the bossy Editor.

But...

'Why are these idiots here?' the Writer questioned, glancing at the rowdy friends of her flatmate. Throughout the afternoon, the artist's friends stayed in the living room, doing anything to everything while her flatmate was cooped up inside her room, with the blonde Frenchwoman named Sabine.

Sketching.

Painting.

Digital art.

Playing videogames.

Gossiping.

The Writer paid no mind to the gossip; thinking it was a complete waste of time. That is until...

"I'm hungry!" Rozalie slammed her hand on the coffee table, standing up with a low annoyed growl. "Why does Sabine have to insist to have a nude portrait today?!" she gritted her teeth and held the pencil tighter to the point that the wood cracked.

Jade merely rolled her eyes and focused back on her own book. "It's obvious. She said that last time, someone disturbed them."

"Didn't say who though," added Patrick, pinching Kyle's cheek hard.

"Ha! I would praise whoever it was—ouch!" Kyle pinched Patrick's cheek harder.

The Writer listened in to the conversation while she kept her sights on her book. She was eavesdropping, sure, but who couldn't?

Kyle released his hold on Patrick and laid on the floor. "But we're still hungry." He poked Rozalie's shin. "Both of them have been in there for hours and I know our friend haven't eaten yet."

Patrick then snickered a bit loudly, smirking at everyone. "With Sabine being there? Our dear friend might've been 'eaten' by that French Fox."

"Si, amigo. It might take a while before we could eat if señorita Sabine's busy 'eating'." Marlon quipped with a cheeky smile.

And the Artist's friends laughed loudly, knowing how Sabine was head-over-heels towards their talented friend.

But among the occupant of the living area, someone was not pleased with the current topic at hand.

The Writer closed her book and then placed it on the coffee table. She was hungry as well and since she was not allowed to even use the microwave, she decided to do what everyone were too afraid to do and drag the Artist out.

Every artist in the living area held their breaths as they watched how the Writer marched up to the Artist's room, and came out minutes after, dragging the Artist by the collar. Following behind them was Sabine with only a blanket covering her bare body and shouting French words that sounded like curses.

Or death threats.

Both seemed to sound the same.

"Ow! Ow! Let go!" the Artist whined, trying to escape the Writer's tight grasp as she was being dragged to the living area.

And the Writer did let go of the Artist. She stood in front of the Artist with arms crossed and her brows creased. "Your friends are hungry," she stated coldly, tilting her head to the side to point at the spectators.

The Artist stood up and looked at her friends who had all amused looks on their faces. "They don't look like they're hungry. What time is i—"

Before the Artist could finish her question, Sabine stepped up and faced the Writer, fuming at how the drawing session was once again intervened by the Writer. "'Zis is an outrage! You 'ave disturbed us once again wi'z my portrait! Par ailleurs, 'ow dare you do 'zat to ma chérie? Le pulling of 'ze clothez!"

The Writer cocked a brow while Sabine began rambling French profanities. She then turned to the Artist who was smiling like an idiot while her friend was spouting French curses. "Amused?" she asked the Artist who nodded.

"It sounds sexy. Her French I mean," the Artist admitted. "then again, she is sexy in biological standards."

Disbelief. The Writer could only shake her head in disbelief at how the Artist perceive the raging Frenchwoman. Taking a deep breath, she uncurled her arms and made a 'stop' gesture towards Sabine. She had enough of the one woman ranting. "Look here. This is my apartment and that Corgi over there and I had a deal. It's past 12 already and we are hungry." She pointed at the friends of the Artist who all nodded in agreement. "So, schedule your 'Jack/Rose' moment, another time, oui?" she said with a French accent at the term 'oui'.

The Artist smiled widely upon hearing the French accent from the Writer. However, it was not missed by Sabine.

Sabine scoffed after hearing the Writer tried to speak French. "Ha! Trying 'ard to speak Français? I bet you only know 'ow to say oui et non." She smirked, silently challenging the Writer to try speak in French once again.

The Writer wanted to stab someone—naming Marlon—for the headache she's slowly feeling. It was not her thing to deal with too many people, especially someone like Sabine. With a low huff, she then approached the Artist who seemed to be enjoying the whole argument. "Jolies femmes ne flirtent pas..." and the Writer's lips slowly curved up into a shy smile. "Nous sourions simplement." She then grabbed the Artist's collar and pulled her closer. "Si l'amour est un péché puis me punir déesse," she whispered, warm breath touching the Artist's lips.

The Artist unknowingly held her breath as her flatmate spoke in a language she found as alluring. Oh Sabine could speak of it fluently, but hearing her usually-silent flatmate speak of the language? "Shit..."

But the Writer didn't stop her advances. Her smile turned into a teasing one – a rare feat. "Voulez vous coucher avec moi ce soir?" it was but a whisper, one sounding a mix of teasing and curiosity, and was loud enough for everyone to hear.

It was the icing on the cake.

The Artist's friends all laughed at what the last words the Writer said; knowing what it meant and where they heard it.

Sabine has a look of utter shock after hearing that the Writer can speak in French.

The Artist...

Well...

"I think we should order out," announced the Writer who was fanning the now-fainted Artist that was lying on the floor.

Everyone, even Sabine, agreed.