The TV shakes as Reno slams the front door, waddling through the walkway to the living room. His work uniform had oil and probably unwashable substances caked up.

He sighs, sitting uncomfortably close to you, throwing an arm behind you. “How was your day, sweetheart?” he teases.

You could smell the oil and sweat rubbing all over you. You hated having a roommate. Especially one that had no sense of control or decorum. But rent was high and unless you got a raise, this was the life you were stuck with.

He takes a snack from your bowl, smacking loudly and grinning widely at you.