Yang gasped and held up a finger, non-verbally signalling to Emily that she should wait where she was for the blonde's return. When she did return, fifty-four seconds later, she practically sprinted back into the bathroom and threw an amorphous mound of black onto the floor. Slowly bending down to pick it up again, it became apparent what it was. A pair of pyjamas. Yang casually threw both the oversized, yet incredibly thin, shirt to Emily, swiftly followed by a pair of bell-bottomed, and again remarkably thin, trousers. "These should keep that cowboy from spunking himself." She joked, as Emily slipped the shirt over her head. It was several sizes too large for her, and hung down to her problematic knees, as well as only reaching the bottom of its v-neck worryingly close to the cups of Emily's bra. Well, if she had been wearing one.
"Shouldn't I be wearing a bra?" She asked, as if she had been reading the detached narrator's mind all along. "No, don't be ridiculous." Yang told her, with a dismissive wave of the hand. "Speaking of which," the blonde continued, "how did you end up with those?" Yang emphasised her point by extending a finger and pointing it towards her girlfriend's slight cleavage. "Well, I mean, they aren't that big. And I eat a lot."
"Me and you both know that's not true, sweetie. At least not fully." Yang replied to Emily's assertion was a rebuttal. Em sighed into a curled hand she had placed over her chapped lips. Yang looked at her and simply upped her game. "Tell me. How did you get breasts?"
"If I tell you, you need to promise to never ever tell another living soul as long as you live. Only three people in the entire world of Remnant even know."
"So I'm about to become number four?"
"That's how numbers work, Yangikins."
"Please never call me Yangikins again."
"Do you want to know or not?"
"Yes."
"Then stop whining." Emily's answer was decisive, and came with an unintentionally cocky smirk. Emily curled up her right hand again, and placed it to her lips as she cleared her throat. "Hormones."
Yang looked at Emily, incredibly puzzled. "You were a potato farmer in the boondocks of Patch, barely scraping enough money to eat. And you expect me to believe you had cutting-edge, paid medication? You must think I'm stupid." The blonde gave a little giggle as she said this. "Who said we paid for them? You went to Signal, you know what Patch is like."
"I literally never ventured outside the campus. With good reason."
"So you don't know what Patch is like. Got it. Well, my mother, Ellie, used to trade a big hessian sack of spuds with a shady man in the pub. In return, he'd give us a week's worth of oestrogen pills."
"Your mother was trading a big sack of potatoes every week for the girl tic-tacs? No wonder y'all were poor."
"No. That week's supply would actually have to last us a month, so I took a quarter of a pill a day. Which is why I have apricots, not melons."
"And yet you never had the money to eat? Your mum's priorities were clapped."
"I never said that. We had the money to eat, we just, well- anyway let's not talk about food, I don't want to discuss it."
"Fine." Yang sighed as she flicked through her mental Rolodex for another subject to talk about. "So why don't you tell me about... what you guys used to do at school. You didn't go to a combat school so it might be very different. What lessons did you used to do?" The blonde asked excitedly, as Emily sloppily put her mousy-brown hair into a slightly askew ponytail.
The other side of the bathroom door, Charlie and Ruby remained either side of the coffee table, brains working overtime in order to defeat each other in the game of kingmakers, Scrabble. Kerian, meanwhile, was still jiggling around like some sort of demonically possessed plate of jelly, but had now taken to multitasking- in as much as he was reading some unprintably abhorrent fanfiction on Whatpad whilst doing so. Charlie carefully laid down the letters to build the word "nugget" away from the "baying" that his ombré-haired adversary had previously put down. He reached into the velveteen bag of tiles and pulled out sweet nothing. "Bag's empty." Charlie remarked to Ruby with a kind, almost patroclinic smile. "Ok, add up the value of your tiles and tell me so I can take it away from your score." Charlie started slowly lifting his fingers, one after the after, until they were all raised and he let out an audible "bollocks!", much to the ire of Miss Rose. "Well, I think it's fourteen."
Ruby let out a triumphant squeal as she took away the fourteen from Charlie's one-hundred-and-seventy-one raw score and, correctly, noted that his net one-hundred-and-fifty-seven was less than her one-hundred-and-ninety-eight. This was a fact she made Charlie aware of in no uncertain terms. Looking glumly at the completed game, Charlie simply uttered "I think it's bedtime." He slowly rose from his seated position at the end of the coffee table and began to stroll listlessly toward the bedroom, as if his perennial lack of sleep was beginning to catch up to him. Silently, Kerian and Billy followed him like obedient dogs. This left Ruby alone to tidy up the game of Scrabble before heading to bed herself. As she picked up ochre tile after ochre tile, thoughts began to swirl around the whirlpool of her mind; thoughts that covered every single potential outcome of her fight the next day. The unadulterated elation of winning triumphantly, and the deflated humiliation of being defeated rushed through her brain, as she autopiloted to the bathroom. As she got to the door, she was damn near knocked unconscious by a boisterous Yang opening it for Emily to leave the bathroom. Ruby shut the door behind her, as she heard her sister yawn and practically stomp the five paces to the bedroom.