Who's the Bad Guy|| FP Jones

Fixing a Door and Some Coffee

Vivian stood in the kitchen of her trailer, waiting those last few seconds before taking the brownies out of the oven. She sighed, looking out the window, her legs were slightly cold as the only coverage they had was her long crew neck sweater. Outside on the curb was the chair she had broken the night before, and she had spent the time the brownies were in the oven cleaning the blood on the floor. She figured she probably should bring some sort of food to the party later that afternoon and it was only 11 in the morning. The timer dinged and she grabbed two pot holders, opening the oven and pulling out the large tin containing her sweets. She used her foot to close the oven door as she set it down on the stove top.

The sound of a horn honking outside made her drop the pot holders and look out the window. She had forgotten FP offered to come fix her door so as she moved to the open window, she was him walking towards the house with a belt of tools in hand. "Hey," she called out to him and he looked at the window before smirking and waving. "Let yourself in, I have to go put some pants on."

FP chuckled and shook his head as she disappeared from the window. He walked up the steps and pulled the screen door open, pushing on the inside door and it easily swung open. The smell of brownies and fresh cotton hit him and he stepped inside. It was a clean trailer, bright and welcoming and he eyed the photos on display as he fully stepped in. She came back out, buttoning her pants before allowing her shirt to fall again. "Nice place," he said with a raised brow, looking to her. She went to the pot holders, picking them up off the ground and setting them on the counter.

"Thanks," she said. "My sister picked everything out." he nodded his head and turned back to the door. "Is it bad?" she asked, putting her hands into her back pocket and walking towards him.

He examined it for a moment and looked back at her. "Nah, just need a new strike plate," he said, looking at her confused expression. "The metal plate with the hole for the door handle bolt to go in, keeps the door shut."

"Ah," she said, nodding her head. He smirked at her and she returned the gesture. "Don't suppose you have one of those in your belt?"

"As a matter of fact," he said, opening a little flap on one of the compartments. "I do," he said, pulling a new strike plate from it and flashing it at her. "I had hoped it was just that," he said, pulling out a screw driver.

"Easy fix then?" she asked, leaning against the wall.

"Yup," he nodded, beginning to shut the door to make sure his placement would line up. She nodded her head, pleased it wasn't too bad. The scent of brownies still wafted through the air and he sighed as he opened up the door. "You know," he began. "I never got to try those brownies."

"Really?" Vivian asked, surprised. "I gave a whole plate to the boys."

"Yeah, they hoarded them," he said, making her laugh.

She watched him screw the piece in place. "I have a fresh batch, if you want to try? I was going to bring them tonight."

FP finished screwing it in and stood up. He pushed the door closed and tried to pull it open without twisting the nob and it was locked in place. "There ya go. And Yeah," he said, shrugging. "I guess I could take one," he said, looking at her, still smirking.

"Have a seat," she said, gesturing to the table which now had three chairs rather than four. He moved passed her, brushing against her while doing so. She bit her lip in secret, turning from him and moving to the oven again. "Did you uh, want some coffee?" she asked, releasing her lip and turning to see him sitting on the opposite side of the table, leaning back in the seat, looking at her. He shrugged and nodded his head. She moved to the coffee pot, replacing the grounds and filling it with water before turning it on. She moved back to the brownies, cutting a square out before pulling a clean plate. Once prepared, she brought it over to the table, placing it in front of him before moving back to the kitchen, grabbing two black mugs and placing them down on the counter. "Cream? Sugar?" she asked, looking at him.