Companion To Paris
Reeling

It was in the pantry. On the pantry floor. T-shirts and rolled pants aren't neat in there. It seems to belong to a woman. Then Mela's eyes shifted in the next direction. What he found was, underwear. It looks like a set, but it was found to be separated by an irregular position. Mela gnawing. He didn't pick it up. Sure didn't. Mela pulled out her outstretched hand again.

This woman stood up quickly. His eye beads circulated into the area around the pantry. Container containing open chocolate powder. The lid is lying next to him. The chocolate powder was also splashed on the table and floor. Maybe when Paris nervously concocted because of Biema's temptation.

The water pitcher is slightly tilted on the stove and the glass contains half the chocolate milk. Items on the dining table collect in one place near the edge of the table with an irregular position. Seems to be sliding on purpose quickly and in a hurry. Mela closed her eyes for a moment. He understood that there was a hot struggle here just now.

He immediately approached the sofa. He doesn't have to be there much longer. In the area of the crime. He was suddenly angry. It's not a matter of why they're doing it here, or why the trail of heat struggle is still strewn across the floor. More about shame.

He was ashamed of the 'hot' thought that flashed just now. Moreover, he was shocked by the reality he found. Biema. That guy's. The man he knew was a plain and a little stiff man who could do so surprisingly. In pantry. They do it in the pantry!

Everything made Mela suddenly close her body. It turns out Biema was a little wow and maybe scary when doing that. Until the thought of Mela arrived at the dexterity of their bodies when fighting. It was a match that finally put them both at the same rhythm.

"W-you did it in the pantry?" repeat Fikar in great surprise. Biema just shrugged her shoulders. Not answering the question with certainty. Fikar felt dazed. It seemed like he was also shaken like Mela. This woman glanced at Fikar who was experiencing the same thing as her. Biema did not care about the condition of the souls of the two of them who were shaken. He just smiled thinly.

"Sorry, Paris cannot serve its guests well. I'm sure he can't move and slow down. This was the first day Mela came here. Forgive my wife" Biema said in her masculine style.

"Although he could wake up, I don't think he had time to make anything. Things are so fucked up there." Mela pointed at the pantry with her chin. Scoffing at this man was already being reckless.

"Oh, yes. I forgot to clean it up." Biema smiled faintly understanding what Mela meant. But he didn't do it intentionally. He forgot to take a shower immediately. Also ended up losing out with the doorbell ringing. It was all because of the arrival of the two of them.

Fikar's the only one who doesn't know the situation in the pantry. Enough info from Mela alone had made him shocked.

"I can order something if you need to eat and drink." Biema is trying to be a good host because the hostess is not being disturbed.

"no need. I'm going home" Mela refused. Just now he was looking at his phone with a surprised face. Biema knew that but did not react to anything.

"You just brought the fruit here?I think that's all Fikar can deliver." Biema did not expect this woman would leave quickly. Not wanting Mela to stay longer, but this is very short. Like just watching the pantry mess because of the 'fight' then just walk away. Mela stand.

"Would you like to go home?" ask Fikar wonder.

"Yes" said Mela looking at Fikar for a moment. Then look at Biema again. "It's free, I'm forcing you to worry. Now I'm sure you're very healthy, Biem. I was wrong to worry about you" Mela said.

"Yes. Looks like." Biema did not argue. He thought it was a waste Mela worried about him. "Let's take me to the door." Mela said nothing just walking towards the door. "You better worry about other people" Biema said. It's an advice. Mela snorted while standing up. Prepare to go home. "That's my advice as a friend" Biema said with a friendly face. Fikar who had been shocked and lost his soul for a moment now turned to Mela.

"Of course as a friend. Don't think I care about you for expecting you, Biem ..." leered Mela.

"Oh, no. I never thought of anything about you. I don't know what it is. No. gabe. I'm too busy thinking about Paris, my wife," Biema said. Mela snorted again.

"That sentence is very piercing in the hear. Okay I'm home. Greetings to Paris. Congratulations on making Biema wild like that," said Mela who Biema could very well understand the meaning. Because Mela's eyeballs glanced towards the pantry at a glance. But after saying that, Mela became ashamed of herself.

"No. I don't need to be taken between them." Mela refused.

"Then?" Biema.

"I'm picking someone up." Unconsciously Mela's lips smiled.

"A man?" guess Biema is happy.

"I'm not gonna tell you. It's a private area."

"Oh so," Biema responded while nodding in understanding.

"I'm gone" said Mela.

"Outside the rain, Mel. Bring the umbrella." Biema was about to enter to take the umbrella that is usually in the office car that is carried by Fikar. Mela's head shook her head.

"He knows what to do. So I can't be rained on." There's a proud tone there.

"Good then." Biema responded to that positive sentence. Mela then disappears inside the elevator door. Inside, Fikar directly stared at Biema straight-up. "What's wrong? Why aren't you ready to go home?" Biema immediately intends to expel this man.

"You're a real man" praised Fikar suddenly. His thumb was raised firmly.

"What is this compliment?" tanya Biema did not know what her friend meant. He approached the sofa and sat down comfortably. The man sat there.

"I don't know what's in there, but I do understand the possibilities of what brought Mela into shock." Biema snorted to hear Fikar speaking seriously. "I salute you for doing it there" said Fikar with wide eyes.

"Stop talking and go home soon," Biema exiled to Fikar.

"I haven't finished asking you, Biem."

"No more questions. Leave immediately. I'm disappointed you're not so competent. Just a Mela alone you can't prevent her from coming to my apartment," Biema's hiss sharpened her gaze.

"Sorry about that. I'm sorry." Fikar immediately acted like a subordinate. He could not ask more about Biema and Paris moments.