"Michael, what the hell did you do to the washing machine!"
Michael rounded the corner from the kitchen and had the nerve to smirk at her predicament. Liz's uniform was soaked and she was covered in the orangey-pink bubbles that seemed to be everywhere. "Language, Parker."
She stomped her foot, which caused a slight slosh in the foam at her feet, and sputtered, "You… you… uhhh."
Michael's eyebrow lifted, and he waited for her to finish, and tried not to laugh. However, in an effort to avoid her wrath, by not laughing hysterically at her, he averted his eyes, and really took in the whole scene, and realized that yes, Liz was covered in bubbles. They were everywhere, and seemed to be coming from the washing machine, "Wait, that's not supposed to do that. Is it?"
"No, Michael," Liz said tightly, "it's not supposed to do that."
"Oh." He scratched his head, and then pointed to the machine. "My clothes are in there."
"Right. I think I figured that out." She clenched her jaw. "Do you know how to do laundry?"
Michael bristled, as he tended to do when cornered. "Of course, I do," he snapped.
"Okay. So, would you mind explaining to me what happened here?"
"I don't know. It's your stupid machine. Maybe, it's broken."
"It wasn't broken this morning." Liz closed her eyes and took a deep breath. "I'm not mad."
He looked at her incredulously, as if he was just waiting for her to snap.
"Really, just talk me through it, so that we can figure it out, and then we'll clean up this mess, and start over." She silently reminded herself to stay calm, and relax. They were both new at this, and it wasn't that big a deal in the scheme of things. Besides, she was so making him cook dinner for the foreseeable future, after this.
He made a face, and rubbed his fingertips over his eyebrow, but he answered. "I put in the clothes, then the soap, and then I turned it on."
"What cycle did you use?"
"The cycles," she pointed at the panel on the washer, "which one did you use?"
"Ummm. I just turned it on."
"You used your powers on the washing machine?"
"It always worked before."
She thought about the state of some of his clothes, and didn't say anything, but he could read her thoughts on her face.
"I put the clothes in the machine. Dump in one of those little boxes, from the other machine, and turn it on. When it stops, you put it in the dryer, and turn that on, until it's dry. It's not hard. It's how everybody does it," he said defensively.
"Right. Okay. You used a laundromat, right? Well, those are commercial machines. They're a bit... sturdier… and made for larger loads. There are different settings for different loads, and since we have just a big bottle of liquid detergent, you have to measure it, and it's concentrated, so you really don't need a lot, just a tiny capful.
"I'll help you next time, so this," she gestured, feigning innocence as she flung bubbles at him, "doesn't happen again."
"Or you could just do it."
"Roommate," she gestured at herself. "Boss. Not your maid."
"Also, you so owe me dinner for this little fiasco."
"You just don't want to cook."
"Yup," she replied cheerily, as they started setting the room to rights, and she pulled half of the soggy clothes from the machine, splitting the huge load.
"Fine. Not like I want to eat your science experiments, anyway."
She smiled, cheekily, as she restarted the machine, skipping the detergent this time around. "Hey! Well, you can just keep that in mind tomorrow night, when you're cooking again."
"I work tomorrow," Michael snorted. "I'll make you an Eclipse burger, just like everybody else in town."
She playfully bumped against him, as she threw her sopping towel onto the pile of wet clothes, and he finished cleared away the rest of the mess with his powers. She took a deep breath and smiled. Michael wasn't a bad guy to have around, even with the disasters – and he was a *really* good cook.