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Claude was annoyed. Very annoyed, especially since the topic of Leanne was brought up. 

”N-No. This has nothing to do with Leanne. I simply don’t have any reason to stay in Hoenn.” he sighed. Not knowing how else to explain it to his brother.

Laurence Anderson

Claude was forced to smack his forehead. ”I’m not talking about your shitty house Lars. I’m talking about me being here in Hoenn. Do you really think I would stay here? I have a life back in Unova.”. The Zorua cried in annoyance as Claude was being tense. 

He took a long breath before relaxing his muscles. He was lucky to have the Zorua. 

Laurence Anderson

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Claude rolled his eyes at his brother’s yapping. He had his own opinions about the matter but he did not care enough to talk about it to someone with no culinary taste. 

”What a life,” he grinned to himself at the clarification of Lars’ schedule. ”How long do you think I’m staying here?” he answered with a question of his own.

Laurence Anderson

  That name... Things couldn’t have gotten any worse. 

   ”So you don’t know?” his tone was different. There was something dark behind his voice. It might be rage, or sorrow, perhaps disappointment, and maybe all of them altogether. 

Bill Anderson

    Claude didn’t waste any time taking a saucepan from one of his many kitchen cupboards after Vic accepted his offer of a drink. He took the carton of milk from before and filled the saucepan with it. 

     Like it was something natural to him, the blond turned one of his electrical stove on and placed the saucepan on top of it. He kept an eye on the milk, hands ready on the buttons of the electrical stove. HIs concentration was a bit incredible to say the least.

     The stop button was immediately pressed once Claude felt like it was warm enough. He took another mug and filled it with the warmed milk, then handed it to Vic. 

     The pinkette would find the milk warmed just enough, not too cold, not too hot, just perfect. 

     ”Don’t sleep on the couch, use the guest room, it’s the room opposite of mine.” he said before he left the kitchen for his room with a mug of coffee in hand. 

Victor Wexler

    Claude realised he had a guest when he heard the man’s voice. He walked towards the fridge and grabbed a carton of milk, then adding the milk to his mug of coffee. The sound of a metal spoon hitting against the mug echoed through the kitchen before Claude spoke up;

     ”You want anything to drink? Snacks?” he asked, eyes fixed on his latte. Once he felt like the drink was properly mixed, he dropped the spoon into the sink before leaning against the counter and faced the other man. He watched the man as he sipped through the mug. 

Victor Wexler

      Before Vic could finish his sentence, the blond was already walking towards a room at the end of the corridor. There was nothing upstairs, Claude had enough room downstairs and he was too lazy to have to walk up the stairs all the time.

     ”I need a shower,” he muttered before stripping inside the room with the door open. The sound of running water then filled his room, as Claude also forgot to close the bathroom’s door.

     Vic was left alone, having access to the entire house. 

     Claude was not fond of the sticky sensation one has after going out, especially before going to bed. After his shower, he dried up and put on a white robe before heading towards the kitchen for a cup of coffee. His head was hurting from all that drinking. But he paid it no mind as that was almost his everyday routine.

Victor Wexler

     Claude was shocked that the man from before helped him steady himself. Rather than being grateful he grew suspicious, he was drunk after all.

     ”Why are you being so nice? What are you onto?” he slurred while his eyes squinted on Vic’s. Then he made a V using his fingers and pointed it to his own eyes before sticking it in front of the other’s.
 
     His head then leaned onto Vic’s shoulder as he felt it growing heavy. His legs were wobbly and could not walk straight at all. Thank goodness Vic was there to prevent him from falling into a ditch.

     They finally got to where Claude lives, a villa near the beach that you can hear waves crashing onto the shore. His other hand was holding onto Vic’s wrist while he rummaged his pocket for the keys. Once he found it, he managed to stuck the key in and turned the knob around, opening the door into his villa.

     ”Stay the night, it’s dark outside,” he said, with much clarity than his sentences before, as he literally pulled the poor pink-haired man inside.

     Inside, the house was plush and fully furnish. With nice couches, a big screen television, glass tables, fancy rugs and curtains. It definitely belonged to someone with a lot of money.

Victor Wexler

    Claude could not find any humour in the joke. Not because it wasn’t humorous, but because he was still shocked that his father was in his house. 

     He refused the other’s offer by sitting on a couch opposite of the man instead. Despite wanting to be polite, he really did not have what it took to be physically close with his father. 

     ”Have you met him?” he asked after the mention of Lars. Like always it was no use delaying things with Claude, the only language he understood was a straight to the point one. 

Bill Anderson