She'd woken up snuggled against the pillow, her small form burrowed deep within the confines of Gunn Killingworth's blankets. It had taken her a few moments to recall exactly why she was in Gunn Killingworth's bed, and then the wave of disappointment hit her as she soon realized that Gunn Killingworth was still missing from Gunn Killingworth's bed.

Sigh.

Closing her eyes, she nuzzled against his pillow, enjoying the scent that lingered on the fabric, yet further evidence that Charonite could behave like an actual human being. You know, aside from the whole running away from hot women thing. b*****d.

She listened for any sound outside of the room, her face still pressed against the pillow. Ursula had left the door to the bedroom intentionally open, but judging by the quietness, he was still out doing whatever it was that he so urgently needed to do to get away from her. Why had he run away? Was he really not interested in her? Had she come across too strongly?

Frowning, she slowly pulled herself up into a sitting position, clutching on the the comforter and keeping it wrapped around her like a cocoon. No, he had to feel something for her. He was the one who had kissed her, the one who'd approached her after her fuse with Beryl to seductively run kisses across her hand before meeting her mouth with his own.

Her eyes dropped down to study her hand, her mind recalling how gentle his lips had been, pressing softly against her skin as they moved from one finger tip to the next. She grinned as she shivered, enjoying the recollection as she brought her hand up to press her palm against her chest. Okay, no, he had to have a thing for her, there was no way he didn't. But why resist? Was he really that dedicated to this guard business to the point he felt he needed to reject her? Or had she come across too strongly, forced herself too quickly on him?

Letting out another sigh, she slowly dragged herself out of the bed, the comforter trailing behind her like a cloak as she made her way towards the nightstand at the foot of the bed. Thankfully, the man had enough sense to keep a mirror on hand, and she stared in horror at the frumpy looking woman who stared back at her. Her makeup had long since disappeared from her face, and her hair had obviously fallen victim to dreaded morning bedhead. She was still wearing her Ursula attire from... what was it, two days ago? A wrinkled blouse and a creased mini skirt. Ugh. Had it really been two days since she'd changed? She was Nealite during the Castor battle and had stayed as such when she'd gone Beryl. After that, she'd gone back to Nealite... so yeah, two days of unwashed clothing and lack of makeup. Double ugh.

Showering was her first priority, but although she'd spied a towel in the bathroom (thanks to her earlier exploration), the question still remained on what she would change into after said shower. There was no ******** way she was putting back on her current clothes, not with those wrinkles.

Eyes wandered down and settled on the drawers sitting before her.

Would she dare?

She opened the first two drawers and glanced through them, her fingers brushing lightly against the fabric as she picked up one of the wifebeaters, then moving to stare at the few gym teacher outfits. All in all, he had little variety to his wardrobe, but complete outfits, all the same...

She'd dare.

Twenty minutes later, she was out of the shower, now wearing both a wifebeater far too large for her, and gym pants that continued to slip off her waist. Two hair ties was all it took to tie the excess fabric into cooperating, one for the wifebeater's bottom, slightly exposing her pale tummy, and one for the waistline of the gym slacks, along with rolling up the ends to prevent herself from tripping on their length. She plucked a third tie from the nightstand to pull back her own damp hair, and gave her reflection a wide grin. It felt good to be so daring, for once, though a little voice in the back of her mind continued to tell her how utterly insane all of this was. But hey, it's not like she had a ton of options to go with, right? He had said she should remain at Hillworth, and she was doing just that. How was it her fault that she failed to have a change of clothes and had been in desperate need of a shower?

Humming happily to herself, the young woman made her way back out into the living room, her eyes wandering across the vast... emptiness. No paintings, no plants, not even a damn television. She understood he was a bachelor and therefore would be prone to lacking tasteful decor, but this was just sad.

Bare feet padded their way across the living room into the small kitchen area, her first impulse being to yank open the refrigerator door. She didn't know whether to sigh or wince, so she did both as she stared at the empty shelves. A pack of cigarettes (what the hell?), leftover takeout and a carton of milk. Wait, was that milk expired, even?

"Oh, darling." She muttered to herself, her head shaking. This... this just wouldn't do. It was no wonder that he was looking worse these days with all of this extra work; the man obviously wasn't taking care of himself as well as he should be!

Her heart reached out to the man she still considered her superior, as dense as he was, and she chewed on her bottom lip, thinking over things. How in the world was she going to help him out? It was good that she was going to be living within the same building, despite the fact it meant sharing quarters with two teenagers, but how she would manage to get in here and persuade him to do what he nee---wait. Wait.

Her hand froze mid-air, the expired milk dangling from her fingers as the figurative light bulb burned brightly overhead.

That was it.

She was the one who could pull the strings now, right? And rooming with two other women in such small quarters would be a nightmare in itself. He needed a total apartment makeover and while he had few possessions to his name, she had more than enough. He needed someone to look after him and she was (apparently) in need of the best protection available. This...this made sense. This was definitely making sense.

Grinning as the idea continued to form in her mind, she turned around and dumped the spoiled milk into the sink. God, why hadn't she thought of this earlier? This made perfect sense, and it would be nearly impossible for him to stop her, right?

Closing the refrigerator door, she turned and began rummaging through the pantries, making a mental grocery list in her head. No, Gunn Killingworth, or whatever his name was, was in dire need of help and Ursula Johnson was going to be the one to help him.

After all, roommates had to watch out for one another, right?