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Threads of salty sweat ran down Robin Artemisia's forehead, threatening to enter her eyes, fighting through her eyebrows first. With annoyance, she grunted and rubbed the liquid out of her face with the back of her hand. Once she ensured nothing would bother her work, she resumed scrubbing off the carpeted floor. A tint of red surged from between the bristles, mixed with their detergent solution.
Her teeth ground together as she entranced deep into focus, watching the bubbles turn pink as she used more force. Thus, a strange tension filled the motel room.
It was unusual from her, whose gentle aura brightened the mood anywhere. Yet, Zachary did not pay attention to her shifted state. Instead, he continued with her optimistic work and searched for the positive side of being stuck cleaning the blood. As it may be obvious, he failed to look at the bright side, it was very well hidden, in his tired eyes. Alternatively, the blue-eyed man started cracking up about their situation.
A confused tear rolled toward the tip of his nose as he leaned over the stained rug. He held back a giggle as the muscles on his back contracted, then relaxed, accompanying his harsh movements against the brush. Just as the young woman before him, he moved back and forth, shoving the cleaning brush into the bucket of water and then lurching it back into the floor.
The stress that lingered between the two friends was cut sharp when both reached for the microfiber cloth, crashing their fingers together and pulling away in pain. Robin hissed, shaking her hand to numb the sting. She exhaled a rather loud sigh, taking the cloth and rubbing off the pink mixture, revealing underneath, a less noticeable stain.
Just for a juncture of a second, her lips curled up, she could not even feel it herself. However, that minuscule move opened an opportunity for Zach to start a small conversation. They still had some falling drops of coagulated liquid on the walls to keep them locked for long enough. "So, Dick," his tone was inquisitive, making her stop in surprise from grabbing yet another cloth to clean up the mess.
"What about him?" Artemisia's frown wanted to make him believe she was genuinely confused. He read right through it. Shaking his head, they began moistening the cloths and wiping the blood away.
Zach struggled to hold his chuckle, biting down on his narrow lips, letting the air exit through someplace else, quietly. "I might not be the brightest person, but I saw how he looks at you. And you at him," he watched her roll her dark eyes, and it enticed for him to continue pushing the information out of her. "Are you giving him a chance?"
"A chance to what?" She scoffed, turning her back on him and squeezing the red liquid out of the cloth, into the bucket. Her feet moved around the man, trying to push back the thought of whose brains they were cleaning off the wall, she indulged herself deep into the conversation. "We're together to help Rachel. Nothing else."
"Yes," Zach stopped to pull a chunk of bloody membrane from the cheap wallpaper, a disguised grimace wiping away his grin for a few seconds. He dropped it into the bucket, retaining a gag as water splashed on his feet. Shivering out the moment, he resumed on their work, "but once she's helped, what are you going to do?"
