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Chapter Six

"C'mon, Louise… C'mon… C'MON… Louise…! COME. ON."

Mr. Grumpy was stood, leant against Ms. Vanity's front door, arms crossed, brow furrowed as she knelt on the floor, peering through the letter slot, calling to that homicidal cat of hers. He looked down at her.

"What are you doing?"

"I'm trying to get Louise to come to the door."

"… She's a cat, love."

She sat up straight "A very smart cat!"

"Yeah, well, smart or not, don't mean she's smart enough to understand that you've locked yourself out."

"You'd be surprised," she peered back through the slot into her house "Come on, Louise… Oh! I see a tail!"

"She's a superhero."

Ms. Vanity narrowed her eyes, looking back up at the sour faced Mr. Man, before turning her gaze back into the house, to see Louise slinking up towards the door, eyes fixated on the little Miss' face. She broke into a huge grin "There's a good girl! C'mon, c'mon… There we go!"

The little Miss sat up straight "Ha."

"Congratulations, you've managed to coax your cat to the front door. Now what do you propose we do?"

Mr. Grumpy came to the conclusion that the vain little Miss, though sharp tongued and quick with come-backs, could, really, only be described as a complete idiot, when she immediately bent forward and started trying to sway her cat into retrieving her house keys for her. He rolled his eyes, sliding hopelessly down the door, sitting on the ground beside her, arms crossed and brow furrowed as he stared irritably forward.

"… There's a good girl, Louise!"

He snorted and then looked at her "Does that mean she's actually getting them?"

"Of course it does. I told her to go into the living room to get them off the coffee table, and that's where she went," Ms. Vanity replied, not looking at him, a wide, smug smile on her face… A smile which immediately faded when she saw Louise come slinking back with, not a set of keys in her mouth, but an unfortunate looking rubber mouse "… LOUISE!"

Mr. Grumpy got to his feet and looked through the window beside the door into the hallway, squinting in. The four walls were empty and unfinished; half painted in a sickly-sweet lilac, and in the far corner, was a stack of three cardboard boxes, filled with brick-a-brack, "ishkabibble", at best. He then looked down to see the very cat Ms. Vanity was now whining at, who ignored her as it passed the mouse between its paws. Then suddenly stopped, looking Ms. Vanity dead in the face.

"Gotcha," Ms. Vanity smiled, triumphantly, as the cat watched her eyes as though understanding what she had said to it. Then it lifted up it's leg "No! No, no, no, don't LICK yourself! Get my keys!"

The sour faced Mr. Man smirked as the pretty little Miss groaned, letting the letter slot fall shut and turning away from the door, crossing her arms and leaning against it, sulking. He leaned back slightly, looking down at her with a somewhat smug smile on his face.

"Well, Ms. Vanity, I've learned two things today. One; you're just as stupid as your cat," she sharply turned her gaze to him and glared, before he continued "And two… Louise… Should actually be a Lewis."

Anyone who knew these two at even a very low level would easily be able to predict that, inevitably, an argument soon followed this comment. It started out with the matter that was Louise's (or, rather Lewis') sex, then went onto Ms. Vanity's intelligence (or lack there of). And finally, when the arguments died down, the both of them left spluttering in lack of response on equal occasions, finally there was the matter that really had to be tackled.

"… So… What, now?" Mr. Grumpy asked, finally.

"What do you mean, what now?"

"Well, 'ow are you gonna get back in? Only way I know 'ow is to ring a lock smith, and even then you can't do that. You can't get into your 'ouse to ring one!" Ms. Vanity looked at him "… No."

"Oh, c'mon! Just let me use your phone!"

"Why should I?"

"Because…" she spluttered for an answer "… If you do, I'll be out of your hair, won't I?"

"That is a very fine deal…" the Mr. Man tapped his chin for a moment, in thought "But it's quite a bit more fun to watch you sit miserably on you doorstep, Ginger Nut."

"I hate you."

He smirked.

"Come on! I won't be five minutes, I promise!"

Mr. Grumpy twisted his mouth, staring down at her as her eyes stared pleadingly back, big, blue and beautiful. His lids narrowed to slits.

"Fine."

It wasn't long before Ms. Vanity had made her way into his house and had begun to burrow for the phone book. He blinked incredulously.

"Oi! What are you doing?!"

"I'm looking for the phone book! Duh!" she snapped, emptying the contents of the small cupboard by his chair. She got to her feet when she established that it wasn't in there and made her way to the shelf, which was full to the brim with old records. Mr. Grumpy watched in horror as she began to pull them from the shelf.

"Vanity, stop!" he cried as she was about to pull another from the shelf. He snatched it from her, scowling "Don't EVER touch this!"

"Why not?"

"Just DON'T!" he barked, slotting it back onto the shelf. He then got onto his knees and carefully scooped the other fallen records back into their rightful place. He glowered at her, pushing himself to his feet "Stay here. Don't. Move. A MUSCLE."

The vain little Miss huffed as the Mr. Man then turned and made his way out of the room, stomping up the stairs. Inevitably, she disobeyed him. She turned to look back at the card wallet he had ripped from her hands and slid it carefully from its home, nestled between it brothers. She took in the cover. Then snorted.

"Love Me Tender?"

She rolled her eyes, slotting it back in and then surveying the room. It wasn't the most interesting room. It was simple and plain, an ordinary living room, with a sofa and an arm chair and a television with a ridiculously dusty screen. She trotted up to it, wrinkling her nose in distaste and then writing the words "Clean Me" in the dust. She did a second scan of the room.

The walls, decorated in memory of a long dead canary, it seemed, had aged over time, the yellow hue faded and gloomy and the wall paper curling at the edges. They were empty of any pictures, but there were patches where the walls were considerably more saturated, shaped into rectangles, as though pictures had once hung there. And then finally, she looked to fire place, which, truthfully, was no great feature, rather, what caught her eye was the silver frame perched upon it. Curious, she walked forwards for a closer inspection.

In the frame were two figures, one being a much younger version of the sour-faced Mr. Man who was now effing and blinding about stubbing his toe, upstairs, and the other being someone she didn't recognise.

The little Miss in the photo was pale and pretty, her cheeks rosy and her skin a soft shade of pink. Ms. Vanity blinked at her, drawing in her blue eyes and her dark, wavy locks, and finally, her wedding dress.

"He's… Married?"

"'Ere we are, Ms. Vani'y," the little Miss jumped, spinning around on her heel in surprise as Mr. Grumpy suddenly appeared in the doorway, a yellow phone book in his hands, and a cold, bitter stare in his gaze "… What you doin'?"

"Just looking."

"Yeah, well, don't," he replied, shoving the book in her hands "Now make your call and get out of me 'ouse."

She scowled at him, sitting down on the sofa by the phone, opening the book in her lap "Humph. Gladly."

As she scanned through the phone book for a lock smith, then dialled the number, the sour-faced Mr. Grumpy inspected the photo frame she had appeared to have taken an interest in a few moments before, and closely checked it for smudges or finger prints. Unbeknownst to him, she was watching him out of the corner of her eye as she spoke down the phone to the dull, tired voice of Mr. Lazy.

"Ugh…" the Mr. Man sighed to her down the line "I wish people weren't so… Careless… It would… Make my job so much…" he yawned "Easier."

"Look, can you just send someone over?"

"Uh…" he yawned again "I guess I'll have to… I'll… Send someone over in a, uh… Few hours."

"How many hours?"

"… Four? … Maybe five… Bye."

Ms. Vanity blinked as the line suddenly went dead, the dial tone humming in its familiar, miserable tone. She frowned.

"Humph… He said he'll send someone over in a few hours."

The sour-faced Mr. Man turned and looked at her, as though she'd just told him Ms. Chatterbox was pregnant with his baby "A few HOURS?!"

He snatched the phone from her and angrily punched in the numbers, impatiently tapping his foot as it rang.

"… 'Ello? … Yeah, 'ello. Look, mate, just been told you aren't sendin' anyone round 'til later this evenin'… Well why not…? Oh, for god sake! If someone don't come now, it means she's gunnoo expect ME to let her wait around in me 'ouse! I DEMAND someone comes now…! I'll shout as much as I bloody want, Mr. Lazy! I'm not 'avin' this! … Awright… Awright… OK… Yeah… Thanks."

The Mr. Man hung up the phone.

"… They'll be 'round tomorrow afternoon."

"WHAT?!"

"Well, it's either that, or they don't come at all. Apparently people don't like bein' yelled at when they're in a 'sleeping mood'."

"Well, what am I supposed to do now?!" she cried. Mr. Grumpy shrugged.

"Get out?"

"Wha'- Hey!" the little Miss tried her best to fight against the Mr. Man as he steered her out of the front door. She soon found herself on his doorstep, staring up at him in disbelief "Well, where am I supposed to go?!"

"Figure it out."

Ms. Vanity jerked backwards slightly as the door was then slammed shut in her face, glaring up at the little window in it to see Mr. Grumpy waving tauntingly to her. She fumed, then turned on her heel, stomping down the garden path and turning right. She heaved a deep sigh as she stood on another doorstep, raising a balled fist and knocking on the door.

A moment passed. And then the door was yanked open.

"Ms. Vanity!" Mr. Happy cried, his grin wide and blinding on his face "How wonnnnnderful to see you!"

She wrinkled her nose.

Desperate times call for desperate measures…

"… Hello, Mr. Happy… Uh… I find my self in a spot o' bother… I'm locked out of my house and the lock smith says he's not coming 'til tomorrow. Don't suppose you'd be kind enough to…" the little Miss trailed off as she looked to Mr. Grumpy's front window, seething at the sour faced Mr. Man as he waved and blew spiteful kisses to her. She gritted her teeth "Excuse me."

Mr. Grumpy burst into laughter as the vain young woman then stomped from Mr. Happy's lawn to his, rushing to the window and slamming her fists angrily against it.

"This is YOUR fault!" she cried. He replied, nonchalantly shrugging his shoulders, but his voice was muffled by the pane of glass between them. She glowered at him and then looked back at Mr. Happy "… Sorry…"

"What is it you were saying?" he asked as she plodded back onto his front garden, her arms crossed.

"Can I stay here for tonight…?"

Inevitably, the Mr. Man gladly let her in, a smile so broad on his features that any wider and it would surely rip his cheeks. But, after an hour or so of being relentlessly laughed and spoken to about things she couldn't possibly care less about, the little Miss threw open his front door and sprinted from his house, darting up to Mr. Grumpy's front door and hammering on it.

"Please just let me stay!" she whined desperately, slamming hopelessly away "Please, please, please, I'll do anything!"

The sour-faced Mr. Man opened the door a jar, peering at her through the crack "… Anything?"

"Anything. Please."

He opened the door a bit further "Don't you have any friends you could stay with?"

"Of course I do!" she spluttered.

"Name two."

"… OK, fine, I don't," she watched him as he chuckled spitefully to himself "Oh, shut up. I can't help bein' the newbie!"

"Well, you could have NOT moved here."

She huffed "Wouldn't have done if I knew such a creature as YOU existed."

"Not the smartest thing to say to someone, when you're trying to spend the night in their 'ouse."

It was time to bring out the big guns.

Ms. Vanity looked miserably away. Then miserably up at him again, her eyes wide and pleading, batting her eye lids and pouting her lips.

"You look like a fish."

She fumed.

"Come ON, Mr. Grumpy!" he shook his head. She put on her sweetest smile "I'll give you a kiss."

"Please, don't. You'll probably melt my skin." He would not, under any circumstances, admit that, in his eyes, that was actually a very sweet deal.

"Fine. I'll do what ever you want. Just let me stay. PLEASE."

He narrowed an eye, humming in thought "… Fine."

"… Fine?"

"Fine," he shrugged, holding open the door for her "And all you 'ave to do is tidy up the mess you made earlier."

"You haven't tidied up yet? Lazy bum."

"Naw, I just knew you'd be back, so I didn't see the point."

She spluttered.

"No, really. I HATE you."

"Oh, that is a shame… Shut the door, be'ind ya, please. You're letting in the cold."

The sour faced Mr. Man crossed his arms and tapped his foot as the little Miss trotted through the doorway, and shut the door behind her. He pointed into the living room "Go on."

She narrowed her eyes and twisted her mouth, before pushing past him into the living room, getting down on her knees and huffily putting everything she had pulled out of the cupboard back inside.

"Cuppa tea?"

"No," she mumbled, not looking at him. He frowned.

"No, what?"

She narrowed her eyes, looking up at him "No, I don't."

He scoffed "You 'ave to work on your manners, lovey."

"Humph. My manners are fine. You should really learn to mind your own business" she replied, snootily, getting to her feet and turning up her nose "And my name isn't "lovey". It's Ms. Vanity, remember?"

"How could I forget?" he replied, narrowing his eyes. He was beginning to think that maybe letting the vain little Miss stay in his house wasn't that good an idea. He sighed, shaking his head "Come on… S'pose I better show you the guest room. Unless you'd rather sleep in the garden."

Ms. Vanity opened her mouth to say something, her face twisted into a scowl, as though about to snarl something sarcastic and unkind, before Mr. Grumpy raised his hand and simply shook his head, silencing her and then walking out of the living room and plodding up the stairs. He pushed open the guest room door for her, not looking at her or into the room as he did so. She blinked, stepping in.

The room was next to empty, all except for a bed, a bedside table and a picture frame which hung, empty, from the left hand wall. What really stood out to the little Miss was that, while the rest of the house was gloomy and faded, in aged yellows, greens and blues, this room was brightest of pinks, oozing with femininity, the walls boarded with a childish pattern of flowers. She looked at him.

"Didn't think pink was your colour, Mr. Grumpy," she teased. He narrowed his eyes, finally.

"Shut up."

She only smirked at him as he glared at the floor then flicked her hair, stepping in and sitting on the bed, a layer of dust cast upward into the air as did so. She sneezed and then looked up at him with a frown. He stared back, before shaking his head and stepping in after her, patting her back. She stood up, and he pulled the quilt from the bed, and dragged it out and down the stairs to the back door, in the kitchen.

"Why don't you just have it washed?" Ms. Vanity asked as he stood on the patio of his back garden and shook the dust from it.

"Washing machine's playin' up."

"Have it fixed."

"Can't afford it, at the moment."

She blinked.

"You… Can't afford it…?"

"A man living alone, earning a half-assed thousand a month, doesn't have quite as many luxuries as you do, Princess," he stopped and looked at her "What do you do, anyway?"

"What do mean 'do'?"

"Where do you work? What's your profession? I mean… What do you do to make a living, other than be a pain in the back-side?"

She blinked at him for a moment, as though he had asked the stupidest question she had ever heard.

"… I don't 'do' anything. Why should I?"

"Well, how can you afford all those fancy clothes I see you lugging home, everyday?"

She looked very pleased with herself "Daddy pays for it."

He scoffed incredulously, throwing the quilt over his shoulder and walking back into the house, Ms. Vanity in tow.

"There, happy?" he grunted, as he smoothed it out on the guest bed, upstairs. She gave a short nod.

"… I suppose I should thank you."

"Don't mention it…" She smiled slightly. He didn't. Well, not until an idea came to mind "… Awright, Ms. Vani'y, I 'ave a proposition for ya."

"I don't know as I like the sound of this…"

"As payment for renting this room for the night-"

"RENTING?!"

"- You've got to buy me dinner. My choice."

She wrinkled her nose. Then clicked her tongue "Deal."

"Aw, brilliant," he broke into a huge grin "Awright, lets go then."

She let out a yelp as he suddenly linked his arm into hers and dragged her down the stairs, and out of his house. She blinked up at him, having yet to see a smile as big as the one he currently bared. It seemed that, if anything was certain about Mr. Grumpy, it was most definitely that he liked his food.

Description
Chapter Six

"C'mon, Louise… C'mon… C'MON… Louise…! COME. ON."

Mr. Grumpy was stood, leant against Ms. Vanity's front door, arms crossed, brow furrowed as she knelt on the floor, peering through the letter slot, calling to that homicidal cat of hers. He looked down at her.

"What are you doing?"

"I'm trying to get Louise to come to the door."

"… She's a cat, love."

She sat up straight "A very smart cat!"

"Yeah, well, smart or not, don't mean she's smart enough to understand that you've locked yourself out."

"You'd be surprised," she peered back through the slot into her house "Come on, Louise… Oh! I see a tail!"

"She's a superhero."

Ms. Vanity narrowed her eyes, looking back up at the sour faced Mr. Man, before turning her gaze back into the house, to see Louise slinking up towards the door, eyes fixated on the little Miss' face. She broke into a huge grin "There's a good girl! C'mon, c'mon… There we go!"

The little Miss sat up straight "Ha."

"Congratulations, you've managed to coax your cat to the front door. Now what do you propose we do?"

Mr. Grumpy came to the conclusion that the vain little Miss, though sharp tongued and quick with come-backs, could, really, only be described as a complete idiot, when she immediately bent forward and started trying to sway her cat into retrieving her house keys for her. He rolled his eyes, sliding hopelessly down the door, sitting on the ground beside her, arms crossed and brow furrowed as he stared irritably forward.

"… There's a good girl, Louise!"

He snorted and then looked at her "Does that mean she's actually getting them?"

"Of course it does. I told her to go into the living room to get them off the coffee table, and that's where she went," Ms. Vanity replied, not looking at him, a wide, smug smile on her face… A smile which immediately faded when she saw Louise come slinking back with, not a set of keys in her mouth, but an unfortunate looking rubber mouse "… LOUISE!"

Mr. Grumpy got to his feet and looked through the window beside the door into the hallway, squinting in. The four walls were empty and unfinished; half painted in a sickly-sweet lilac, and in the far corner, was a stack of three cardboard boxes, filled with brick-a-brack, "ishkabibble", at best. He then looked down to see the very cat Ms. Vanity was now whining at, who ignored her as it passed the mouse between its paws. Then suddenly stopped, looking Ms. Vanity dead in the face.

"Gotcha," Ms. Vanity smiled, triumphantly, as the cat watched her eyes as though understanding what she had said to it. Then it lifted up it's leg "No! No, no, no, don't LICK yourself! Get my keys!"

The sour faced Mr. Man smirked as the pretty little Miss groaned, letting the letter slot fall shut and turning away from the door, crossing her arms and leaning against it, sulking. He leaned back slightly, looking down at her with a somewhat smug smile on his face.

"Well, Ms. Vanity, I've learned two things today. One; you're just as stupid as your cat," she sharply turned her gaze to him and glared, before he continued "And two… Louise… Should actually be a Lewis."

Anyone who knew these two at even a very low level would easily be able to predict that, inevitably, an argument soon followed this comment. It started out with the matter that was Louise's (or, rather Lewis') sex, then went onto Ms. Vanity's intelligence (or lack there of). And finally, when the arguments died down, the both of them left spluttering in lack of response on equal occasions, finally there was the matter that really had to be tackled.

"… So… What, now?" Mr. Grumpy asked, finally.

"What do you mean, what now?"

"Well, 'ow are you gonna get back in? Only way I know 'ow is to ring a lock smith, and even then you can't do that. You can't get into your 'ouse to ring one!" Ms. Vanity looked at him "… No."

"Oh, c'mon! Just let me use your phone!"

"Why should I?"

"Because…" she spluttered for an answer "… If you do, I'll be out of your hair, won't I?"

"That is a very fine deal…" the Mr. Man tapped his chin for a moment, in thought "But it's quite a bit more fun to watch you sit miserably on you doorstep, Ginger Nut."

"I hate you."

He smirked.

"Come on! I won't be five minutes, I promise!"

Mr. Grumpy twisted his mouth, staring down at her as her eyes stared pleadingly back, big, blue and beautiful. His lids narrowed to slits.

"Fine."

It wasn't long before Ms. Vanity had made her way into his house and had begun to burrow for the phone book. He blinked incredulously.

"Oi! What are you doing?!"

"I'm looking for the phone book! Duh!" she snapped, emptying the contents of the small cupboard by his chair. She got to her feet when she established that it wasn't in there and made her way to the shelf, which was full to the brim with old records. Mr. Grumpy watched in horror as she began to pull them from the shelf.

"Vanity, stop!" he cried as she was about to pull another from the shelf. He snatched it from her, scowling "Don't EVER touch this!"

"Why not?"

"Just DON'T!" he barked, slotting it back onto the shelf. He then got onto his knees and carefully scooped the other fallen records back into their rightful place. He glowered at her, pushing himself to his feet "Stay here. Don't. Move. A MUSCLE."

The vain little Miss huffed as the Mr. Man then turned and made his way out of the room, stomping up the stairs. Inevitably, she disobeyed him. She turned to look back at the card wallet he had ripped from her hands and slid it carefully from its home, nestled between it brothers. She took in the cover. Then snorted.

"Love Me Tender?"

She rolled her eyes, slotting it back in and then surveying the room. It wasn't the most interesting room. It was simple and plain, an ordinary living room, with a sofa and an arm chair and a television with a ridiculously dusty screen. She trotted up to it, wrinkling her nose in distaste and then writing the words "Clean Me" in the dust. She did a second scan of the room.

The walls, decorated in memory of a long dead canary, it seemed, had aged over time, the yellow hue faded and gloomy and the wall paper curling at the edges. They were empty of any pictures, but there were patches where the walls were considerably more saturated, shaped into rectangles, as though pictures had once hung there. And then finally, she looked to fire place, which, truthfully, was no great feature, rather, what caught her eye was the silver frame perched upon it. Curious, she walked forwards for a closer inspection.

In the frame were two figures, one being a much younger version of the sour-faced Mr. Man who was now effing and blinding about stubbing his toe, upstairs, and the other being someone she didn't recognise.

The little Miss in the photo was pale and pretty, her cheeks rosy and her skin a soft shade of pink. Ms. Vanity blinked at her, drawing in her blue eyes and her dark, wavy locks, and finally, her wedding dress.

"He's… Married?"

"'Ere we are, Ms. Vani'y," the little Miss jumped, spinning around on her heel in surprise as Mr. Grumpy suddenly appeared in the doorway, a yellow phone book in his hands, and a cold, bitter stare in his gaze "… What you doin'?"

"Just looking."

"Yeah, well, don't," he replied, shoving the book in her hands "Now make your call and get out of me 'ouse."

She scowled at him, sitting down on the sofa by the phone, opening the book in her lap "Humph. Gladly."

As she scanned through the phone book for a lock smith, then dialled the number, the sour-faced Mr. Grumpy inspected the photo frame she had appeared to have taken an interest in a few moments before, and closely checked it for smudges or finger prints. Unbeknownst to him, she was watching him out of the corner of her eye as she spoke down the phone to the dull, tired voice of Mr. Lazy.

"Ugh…" the Mr. Man sighed to her down the line "I wish people weren't so… Careless… It would… Make my job so much…" he yawned "Easier."

"Look, can you just send someone over?"

"Uh…" he yawned again "I guess I'll have to… I'll… Send someone over in a, uh… Few hours."

"How many hours?"

"… Four? … Maybe five… Bye."

Ms. Vanity blinked as the line suddenly went dead, the dial tone humming in its familiar, miserable tone. She frowned.

"Humph… He said he'll send someone over in a few hours."

The sour-faced Mr. Man turned and looked at her, as though she'd just told him Ms. Chatterbox was pregnant with his baby "A few HOURS?!"

He snatched the phone from her and angrily punched in the numbers, impatiently tapping his foot as it rang.

"… 'Ello? … Yeah, 'ello. Look, mate, just been told you aren't sendin' anyone round 'til later this evenin'… Well why not…? Oh, for god sake! If someone don't come now, it means she's gunnoo expect ME to let her wait around in me 'ouse! I DEMAND someone comes now…! I'll shout as much as I bloody want, Mr. Lazy! I'm not 'avin' this! … Awright… Awright… OK… Yeah… Thanks."

The Mr. Man hung up the phone.

"… They'll be 'round tomorrow afternoon."

"WHAT?!"

"Well, it's either that, or they don't come at all. Apparently people don't like bein' yelled at when they're in a 'sleeping mood'."

"Well, what am I supposed to do now?!" she cried. Mr. Grumpy shrugged.

"Get out?"

"Wha'- Hey!" the little Miss tried her best to fight against the Mr. Man as he steered her out of the front door. She soon found herself on his doorstep, staring up at him in disbelief "Well, where am I supposed to go?!"

"Figure it out."

Ms. Vanity jerked backwards slightly as the door was then slammed shut in her face, glaring up at the little window in it to see Mr. Grumpy waving tauntingly to her. She fumed, then turned on her heel, stomping down the garden path and turning right. She heaved a deep sigh as she stood on another doorstep, raising a balled fist and knocking on the door.

A moment passed. And then the door was yanked open.

"Ms. Vanity!" Mr. Happy cried, his grin wide and blinding on his face "How wonnnnnderful to see you!"

She wrinkled her nose.

Desperate times call for desperate measures…

"… Hello, Mr. Happy… Uh… I find my self in a spot o' bother… I'm locked out of my house and the lock smith says he's not coming 'til tomorrow. Don't suppose you'd be kind enough to…" the little Miss trailed off as she looked to Mr. Grumpy's front window, seething at the sour faced Mr. Man as he waved and blew spiteful kisses to her. She gritted her teeth "Excuse me."

Mr. Grumpy burst into laughter as the vain young woman then stomped from Mr. Happy's lawn to his, rushing to the window and slamming her fists angrily against it.

"This is YOUR fault!" she cried. He replied, nonchalantly shrugging his shoulders, but his voice was muffled by the pane of glass between them. She glowered at him and then looked back at Mr. Happy "… Sorry…"

"What is it you were saying?" he asked as she plodded back onto his front garden, her arms crossed.

"Can I stay here for tonight…?"

Inevitably, the Mr. Man gladly let her in, a smile so broad on his features that any wider and it would surely rip his cheeks. But, after an hour or so of being relentlessly laughed and spoken to about things she couldn't possibly care less about, the little Miss threw open his front door and sprinted from his house, darting up to Mr. Grumpy's front door and hammering on it.

"Please just let me stay!" she whined desperately, slamming hopelessly away "Please, please, please, I'll do anything!"

The sour-faced Mr. Man opened the door a jar, peering at her through the crack "… Anything?"

"Anything. Please."

He opened the door a bit further "Don't you have any friends you could stay with?"

"Of course I do!" she spluttered.

"Name two."

"… OK, fine, I don't," she watched him as he chuckled spitefully to himself "Oh, shut up. I can't help bein' the newbie!"

"Well, you could have NOT moved here."

She huffed "Wouldn't have done if I knew such a creature as YOU existed."

"Not the smartest thing to say to someone, when you're trying to spend the night in their 'ouse."

It was time to bring out the big guns.

Ms. Vanity looked miserably away. Then miserably up at him again, her eyes wide and pleading, batting her eye lids and pouting her lips.

"You look like a fish."

She fumed.

"Come ON, Mr. Grumpy!" he shook his head. She put on her sweetest smile "I'll give you a kiss."

"Please, don't. You'll probably melt my skin." He would not, under any circumstances, admit that, in his eyes, that was actually a very sweet deal.

"Fine. I'll do what ever you want. Just let me stay. PLEASE."

He narrowed an eye, humming in thought "… Fine."

"… Fine?"

"Fine," he shrugged, holding open the door for her "And all you 'ave to do is tidy up the mess you made earlier."

"You haven't tidied up yet? Lazy bum."

"Naw, I just knew you'd be back, so I didn't see the point."

She spluttered.

"No, really. I HATE you."

"Oh, that is a shame… Shut the door, be'ind ya, please. You're letting in the cold."

The sour faced Mr. Man crossed his arms and tapped his foot as the little Miss trotted through the doorway, and shut the door behind her. He pointed into the living room "Go on."

She narrowed her eyes and twisted her mouth, before pushing past him into the living room, getting down on her knees and huffily putting everything she had pulled out of the cupboard back inside.

"Cuppa tea?"

"No," she mumbled, not looking at him. He frowned.

"No, what?"

She narrowed her eyes, looking up at him "No, I don't."

He scoffed "You 'ave to work on your manners, lovey."

"Humph. My manners are fine. You should really learn to mind your own business" she replied, snootily, getting to her feet and turning up her nose "And my name isn't "lovey". It's Ms. Vanity, remember?"

"How could I forget?" he replied, narrowing his eyes. He was beginning to think that maybe letting the vain little Miss stay in his house wasn't that good an idea. He sighed, shaking his head "Come on… S'pose I better show you the guest room. Unless you'd rather sleep in the garden."

Ms. Vanity opened her mouth to say something, her face twisted into a scowl, as though about to snarl something sarcastic and unkind, before Mr. Grumpy raised his hand and simply shook his head, silencing her and then walking out of the living room and plodding up the stairs. He pushed open the guest room door for her, not looking at her or into the room as he did so. She blinked, stepping in.

The room was next to empty, all except for a bed, a bedside table and a picture frame which hung, empty, from the left hand wall. What really stood out to the little Miss was that, while the rest of the house was gloomy and faded, in aged yellows, greens and blues, this room was brightest of pinks, oozing with femininity, the walls boarded with a childish pattern of flowers. She looked at him.

"Didn't think pink was your colour, Mr. Grumpy," she teased. He narrowed his eyes, finally.

"Shut up."

She only smirked at him as he glared at the floor then flicked her hair, stepping in and sitting on the bed, a layer of dust cast upward into the air as did so. She sneezed and then looked up at him with a frown. He stared back, before shaking his head and stepping in after her, patting her back. She stood up, and he pulled the quilt from the bed, and dragged it out and down the stairs to the back door, in the kitchen.

"Why don't you just have it washed?" Ms. Vanity asked as he stood on the patio of his back garden and shook the dust from it.

"Washing machine's playin' up."

"Have it fixed."

"Can't afford it, at the moment."

She blinked.

"You… Can't afford it…?"

"A man living alone, earning a half-assed thousand a month, doesn't have quite as many luxuries as you do, Princess," he stopped and looked at her "What do you do, anyway?"

"What do mean 'do'?"

"Where do you work? What's your profession? I mean… What do you do to make a living, other than be a pain in the back-side?"

She blinked at him for a moment, as though he had asked the stupidest question she had ever heard.

"… I don't 'do' anything. Why should I?"

"Well, how can you afford all those fancy clothes I see you lugging home, everyday?"

She looked very pleased with herself "Daddy pays for it."

He scoffed incredulously, throwing the quilt over his shoulder and walking back into the house, Ms. Vanity in tow.

"There, happy?" he grunted, as he smoothed it out on the guest bed, upstairs. She gave a short nod.

"… I suppose I should thank you."

"Don't mention it…" She smiled slightly. He didn't. Well, not until an idea came to mind "… Awright, Ms. Vani'y, I 'ave a proposition for ya."

"I don't know as I like the sound of this…"

"As payment for renting this room for the night-"

"RENTING?!"

"- You've got to buy me dinner. My choice."

She wrinkled her nose. Then clicked her tongue "Deal."

"Aw, brilliant," he broke into a huge grin "Awright, lets go then."

She let out a yelp as he suddenly linked his arm into hers and dragged her down the stairs, and out of his house. She blinked up at him, having yet to see a smile as big as the one he currently bared. It seemed that, if anything was certain about Mr. Grumpy, it was most definitely that he liked his food.