Rundown69

Part 4 : Grounded

"Darling... I'm home...."

The door slammed with a bang and the bright natural lights blinded Dakota's eyes. His hangover sank in and the throbbing migraine starts to wrap around his head, cramming it. Trying to turn away from the lights, he accidentally rolled over and fell face flat on the floor from the sofa.

Groaning in pain, Dakota slowly crawled out of the blanket and his fingers stretched for a blue bucket, dragged it into his arm and threw up. An excruciating relief for his agony. He curled into a baby pose hugging a cookie monster plushy tightly to comfort the residual pain. In his blurry vision, a reddish silhouette approached him slowly. His heart lightened when he saw Harper was finally back from university.

"H, please...my meds... I'm dying..."

Silent.

"H?"

"Dap?"

Wait, who? Dakota did not recognize the soft voice and, Harper calls him by his name – Dakota; not Dap. The realization that she was not Harper upset his gut and a horrible sensation push through his throat. He threw up again and  the woman shrieked frantically.

"OMG OMG OMG OMG HOLLY F MOTHER OF GOD!"

At the same time, harsh gasping can be heard in the background.

"The F, ROBIN!"

Purple fishtail braids swirled in the air when the figure turned to look at Harper who was panting heavily at her doorstep. Cool sweat running down Harper's forehead and dripped from the tip of her nose and lips.

"Why are you here?!" Harper yelled.

This is bad.

Robin is trouble.

***

Harper shook her head in disbelieve. Dakota's spine felt like a rail of little hard bumps when her hand carefully rubbed his back. The redhead was sitting with his head in his knees and his face pressed into the coolness of the damp towel. The warmth of Harper's hand sipped through the thinness of his t-shirt. With every gentle pressure of her touch, he breathed slowly. In front of them, a sun-tanned young woman in skinny jeans and a red wool sweater was glaring at them. Her long purple fishtail braid hung just above the curve of her breast. She had the reddest lips. If danger was a color, her lips are the perfect pigment.

"I want dirt... all the dirt." The woman demanded.

Her eyes sparkled with mean greed when Harper helped Dakota to lie down. Unbothered with her, Harper gently touched Dakota's forehead with the back of her hand after she removed the towel from his face. Smoothing the crease between her eyebrows, Harper shook her head, again. Through the correction of her glasses, Robin Satou is an attractive American Japanese woman with eyes the Chinese aunties from Little China Street would swoon upon – the perfect Asian eyes – the phoenix eyes. Those precious set of gems were embedded into what use to be fair and flawless face. Robin has her mother's Caucasian tall bridge, pointy nose, and the alluring pout. She fixed her eyebrows today, Harper noticed. And her eyes...Robin's hazel eyes were thirsty for details.

This is trouble.

Robin is trouble.

"Robin... why are you here?"

"話を逸らすな* So??" Robin persisted.
*Hanashi wo sorasuna = Don't (fucking) change the subject

"めんどくせーなお前*" Harper stole a look at Dakota. He was too sick to be bothered about the bickering. Japanese sounded like gibberish to him.
*mendokuse-na  omae = your're so bothersome (in a "pissed off" nuance)