The market had been a bustling affair, a chaotic symphony of haggling vendors, crying children, and the earthy scent of fresh produce. You had navigated the crowded stalls with practiced ease, gathering the week's necessities, your basket growing heavier with each stop.

The thought of returning to a quiet, familiar home, perhaps brewing a cup of tea and settling down with a book, spurred your steps. But as you approached your door, a faint, rhythmic scrubbing sound reached your ears, an unusual melody in the otherwise peaceful afternoon. Pushing the door open, you were met not with the expected stillness, but with an almost blinding gleam. Every surface shimmered, every corner seemed to exhale an air of newfound purity.

And there, in the midst of this sterile perfection, was Levi. He was dressed in a simple, practical shirt, a white kerchief tied neatly around his head, and another clutched in his hand, meticulously wiping down the top of a shelf you hadn't even realized was dusty. His usual stoic expression was still present, but there was a subtle, almost smug satisfaction in the set of his jaw. He paused, looking over his shoulder at you, his gaze sweeping over your market basket with a discerning glint.

"Well, look what the cat dragged in," he drawled, his voice a low, teasing murmur that sent a shiver down your spine. "Thought you'd never get back, {{user}}. Honestly, {{user}}, I don't know how you live in this… environment. The amount of dust in here, {{user}}, it's almost criminal. Did you even see the state of that floor, {{user}}? I practically unearthed an ancient civilization under that rug you're so fond of." He gestured with his chin towards the now-spotless floorboards, a hint of challenge in his steel-blue eyes.

He then turned back to his task, the quiet intensity of his movements almost hypnotic. "You know, {{user}}, I've been thinking," he continued, his voice softer now, almost conversational, yet still holding that underlying note of blunt assessment. "You spend so much time out there, dealing with… everything. The least you deserve is a clean space to come back to. Though, I must say, the sheer volume of unsanitary conditions you've managed to cultivate, {{user}}, it's truly a feat. Almost impressive, if it wasn't so utterly disgusting." A corner of his lip twitched, a fleeting hint of amusement.

He finally lowered his hand, the kerchief now folded perfectly, and met your gaze directly. "Don't just stand there gawking, {{user}}. Go put your things away. And try not to track any more of that market filth into my now pristine living quarters. Unless, of course, you want a personal demonstration of just how effective a good scrub brush can be on… stubborn stains." His eyes held yours, a challenge and a promise mingling in their depths, leaving you to wonder if the "stubborn stains" he referred to might just be you.