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Valeriu learned that Quinn had a lot of stuff.

He was also pretty sure that his house was not big enough to hold a second house.

"I already-" He groaned, shoving against the solid wooden wall, "-have a v'ardrobe-" It wedged up a second step through the door, "-v'hy another one?"

The question begged an answer that would not be coming.

Perhaps it would've been smarter to take all of Quinn's clothes out, first.

"Nngh!" One final push and it was through the doorway, leaving Valeriu to sink down into a crouch and catch his breath under the blistering summer sun.

Now he just had to get it up the stairs inside.

He swore. This really might just take two days.

Quinn, who was pointing exactly where the large pieces of furniture should go and managing to look useful without doing anything at all, smacked Vale's butt as he moved into the house, and smirked mischievously. He heard Writ clonknig up the stairs, and turned to look.

"In the kitchen, above the fridge. You're lucky that stuff keeps forever, Vale hasn't gone food shopping in ages. I'm going to have to go pick some food up later." He turned back to the 'work' at hand, then did a double take.

"I didn't realize you were still here, Writ! I didn't see you when I came in this morning." He turned back to Vale.

"Hurry up with my warddrobe! We still have more stuff to get!"

"Wha-?" Writ turned around and almost smacked his forehead into Quinn's face.

"Oh, hey Quinn. What are you doing here?" Quinn would be greeted with some nasty hangover-breath. Writ reached for the top of the fridge and pulled the bag of pancake mix down and turned it around for a crash course on how to magically conjure those delicious circles with a frying pan.

"Better question, when did you get here?"

Valeriu was reveling in his reward, ready to push the wardrobe up the next set of stairs, when he bristled, nearly dropping the slanted wooden coffin of clothes. He was quick to catch it, sliding the piece of furniture to lay across the steps.

"About that-" One step, two steps. "-she is, v'ell, she is v'ith the Carnegies. Their mother is a very good mother," he explained, vaguely, as if that was reason enough for him to finally relinquish his possessive grip on his little sister. As if that was the story - beginning, middle, and end. "I only let her eat non-preservatives, so I shop for v'hen she visits each v'eek."

He shoved the wardrobe up the next steps, quick to hurry and reach the second floor before Quinn followed-up on what he said.

"Writ, you are helping after breakfast, yes? Yes, yes you are - there's another wardrobe back there."

"The house is big! Vale is medium-sized," He paused, and smirked naughtily, "Well, Vale is big, but his body doesn't take up too much space. You should stay here, too!" Quinn was immediately excited about this idea, and he turned his head out of the kitchen to call to Vale.

"Isn't that right, Vale?" he paused. "And I guess I'll get things without preservatives for Sydni's visit." She wasn't living with them full-time? Sad. "But I'll get her some treats, too." He nodded, and rummaged around drawers until he found some paper and a pencil to scribble a list onto.

"Do we even have any milk, Writ?"

"That offer sounds tempting" Writ said to Quinn, turning the semi-solid pancake with a spatula, "My landlady might kick me out in a week, something about the 'Safety of the other residents' or something like that. She didn't like the fact the last person who visited me axed my door down."

He took a plate from the kitchen cabinet and slid it down on the table. With a little finesse, he dropped the pancake onto the plate.

"Hell if I know, his fridge seems kinda... Light on the food." Writ shrugged.

"And Syd?" Valeriu's voice was growing more outraged and anxious by the minute, interrupted by the occasional huffed noises of heave-ho as he wrenched the wardrobe closer to the top of the stairs.

"I didn't agree to that-"

What.

"Quinn," he growled, patiently as he could, "I don't eat anymore. You and Writ are on your own for food."

He huffed, though added, after a minute, "Eggs, butter, some kind of bread. A few meats and cheeses, and don't skimp on the vegetables and fruits-" His baleful stare said he knew exactly what Quinn would not be willing to buy. "Stay av'ay from processed foods. They are unhealthy, and very expensive. I v'ill at least cook so you do not die of malnutrition."

He rethought his previous statements, brain crashing to a halt.

"Not that Writ can stay here!"

"Well, the way I see it, with us around, someone can always be here to watch her. No reason to stay with those Irish crazies any more than she has to. My shifts are really flexible, I don't even know if you're still working at that construction company, and Writ is some kinda hobo, so I'm sure it will be fine." He finished writing things on his list.

Milk.
Eggs.
Butter.
Twinkies--those are some kind of bread, right?
Vegetables: Potatoes, macaroni and cheese-- those were usually considered a 'vegetable' option at restaurants.
Fruits: Assorted gummy fruit snacks!
Meats: Microwavable frozen chicken nuggets!

That seemed about right. Good work, team.

"I don't want a pancake." He shook his head. "Vale, darling, are you done with the wardrobe yet? And what does 'processed' mean?"