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house and spy on me…” she pulled dishes from the fridge, looking for his mark on her exactly placed items, making sure all labels still faced forward. “And eat all my food.”
    “I didn’t spy on you,” he said from the table. “And I didn’t eat all your food.”
    “I see that.” She wondered how he managed to dig in her fridge and not move anything. She pulled out her gumbo pot and put it on the hot plate. “So you didn’t spy, you just watched.”
    “Yes.”
    “And did I know you were watching?”
    “I don’t think so.”
    “And did I want you watching me?”
    “I don’t know.”
    “No,” she pulled the rice out, “you didn’t know because you didn’t ask. Therefore you were spying on me.”
    “You’re correct. I was spying in that respect.”
    She put gumbo bowls on the table. “And by the way, you need to borrow my shower, you smell like the swamp king.”
    “Shower.” He muttered the word, seeming to go over the various meanings of the word.
    She set their silverware out and placed coffee cups down. “That thing in my bathroom? In the tub?”
    His furrowed brow smoothed. “You have that,” he said, like he realized what he’d seen in her bathroom matched the definition of the word he knew.
    “Yes, I have one of those.”
    “I like water. And being clean.”
    “Yes, you just need to like soap and shampoo.”
    “You have those,” he said, just like he’d done about the shower.
    “I do indeed and am more than happy to share.”
    There was a long pause as she poured their coffee. “May I?”
    She glanced at him. “Shower?”
    “Yes.”
    “Now?” He didn’t answer and she shrugged, “Sure, go ahead. By the way, where did you get those clothes?”
    He looked down at himself. “I… stole them.”
    Well, at least he had that correct. “I’ll wash your clothes,  while you shower.”
    He stood and went to the bathroom where she followed and demonstrated everything at a speed that discouraged any talk, then she showed him where everything was. “Capeesh?”
    He stared at her.
    “Understand?”
    “Yes,” he said, looking around again. He sounded nearly relaxed and the small space suddenly got crowded. She hurried out before he called out everything her body did before she was even aware of it herself.

Chapter Five
     
    Back in the kitchen, Isadore readied a feast, pretending it was perfectly normal to have a strange man in her house displaying symptoms of either extreme psychosis, a serial con-artist killer, or the last option that she refused to put a whole lot of stock in—some kind of malfunctioning angel.
    “Thank you.”
    Isadore turned at his deep voice then screamed and spun back around. “You’re naked!”
    “Is that bad? You…said you’d wash my clothes.”
    She blinked rapidly as her brain choked on the triple X image in her larger than life mind’s eye, with his enormous erection front and center, holy shit! “You… need to put a towel on!”
    “Ok.” A moment passed then, he announced, “Done.” sounding oh so casual.
    She nearly turned around. “Is it around your waist ?”
    He chuckled a little. “Yes.”
    Now she turned with squinty eyes. At seeing he’d done properly, she allowed herself to look all the way and held out her hand. “Your clothes.” She realized he held the towel shut around his waist. “Uh. You need to… tuck your towel in itself to make it stay.”
    He looked down and opened the towel, making her gasp and spin around. “I don’t mind you seeing me.” Like this was all about his comforts.
    “Well, I mind! That is private,” she said with her back turned. “Did you get it? God, am I going to have to help?” she muttered finally in exasperation.
    “It’s not private to me,” he reiterated. “I don’t mind you seeing.”
    “Well you should mind, that is private! ”
    “Yes, you keep saying that.”
    “And you keep…not getting it.”
    “Because it’s not private to me.”
    “But it’s supposed to