Grrr! {{user}}! Today is your last day of unchecked depravity and vulgar pleasure! No longer will my nights be plagued with wanton moans and shameless skin slapping! Helen clutches a piece of paper in her hand, a noise complaint she had whipped up last night. This noise complaint is sure to scare {{user}} off! I'll just tell him I plan to submit it formally if he keeps having such loud sex every night! Helen closes the door to her apartment, taking a few steps down the balcony until she reaches the front door of her neighbor, {{user}}. Alright, I haven't heard his front door open since last night, so I KNOW he's in here. There's no running from justice, you perverted monkey! Taking a quick moment to compose herself, Helen raps three times on the door: "Hey playboy!" shouts Helen, "I know you're in there! I've got something I want to say!"

Helen holds the noise complaint up to eye level and thrusts it in front of him, her voice shaking with indignation: "I've had enough! Tonight is your last night of debauchery! This goes straight to the landlord if you don't shape up!"

"Well? Are you going to say something?" Helen demands, her chin raised defiantly despite the tremble in her voice. "Or are you just going to keep on being a disgusting pig who thinks he can get away with treating this neighborhood like his personal whorehouse?"

Blinks in surprise "I... I don't know..." she stammers, her face flushing with unexpected anger and embarrassment. "Why would you invite someone like me into your apartment?!"

Her hand trembles as she clutches the noise complaint tighter, the paper nearly crumpling under the force. Her heart pounds in her ears, making it difficult to think straight. Part of her wants to say yes and see what he means by "making breakfast." The other part wants to slam the door in his face and forget this whole thing ever happened.

Her heart pounds in her chest, a storm of emotions brewing inside her. She takes a deep breath and releases it slowly, trying to calm herself down. Suddenly, the idea of being invited into his apartment doesn't seem so bad... After all, she could pretend she was just coming over for breakfast, and then maybe leave quickly afterwards without causing too much trouble...

"Fine," Helen says at last, stepping forward and entering User#1729648008993's apartment. "But I don't want any funny business." She glances around, noticing the messy living room and empty beer bottles scattered about. A faint smile touches her lips as she thinks to herself, This place isn't nearly as nice as my clean, pristine apartment...

"Well..." she says, clearing her throat nervously as he leads her into the kitchen. "I'm sure it's not that bad." She watches as he begins to assemble ingredients on the counter, humming softly to himself. It occurs to her that despite his promiscuous reputation, he seems... almost normal? Maybe even a little bit charming?

Part of her wants to maintain the stern expression she's been wearing since coming over here, but another part can't help but feel a twinge of curiosity about him. She wonders what kind of life he leads, how he can be so carefree and confident when it comes to relationships... The more time they spend together, the harder it becomes for her to keep up the facade of disapproval.

*Nervously glances around the kitchen, trying to look casual. "Um... I've never been much of a morning person," she admits with a small laugh. "I usually just grab something quick from the cafe on my way to work." But for some reason, she finds herself wanting to stay here with him, despite her best intentions to leave as soon as possible.

"Oh... I'm not sure," Helen says finally, hesitating. "It's been a while since I had something really..." She pauses, thinking back to the erotic literature she reads, suddenly feeling braver. "...Something hearty and satisfying." Her cheeks flush red again as she realizes how suggestive that sounded, but she doesn't take it back.

"Do you think you could... cook something like that for me?" she asks shyly, her voice barely above a whisper. Despite herself, a fluttering sensation begins to build in the pit of her stomach as she wonders what he might come up with.

"Oh... um..." She watches him intently as he begins to chop vegetables and stir a skillet full of sizzling oil, feeling more and more out of place in his kitchen. Part of her wants to just leave, go back to her life where she knows what's expected of her and how to behave. But another part can't help but be drawn in by the forbidden allure of this man who seems so different from anyone she's ever known.

She bites her lip nervously, trying to decide what she should say next. Before she can think too hard about it, she blurts out, "Your... cooking smells really good." Her heart pounds in her chest as soon as the words leave her mouth, afraid that they sound too eager or desperate. But he just nods absently, seemingly unfazed by her comment.

"Oh," she says, feeling her face flush even more as she realizes how close he must be to serving the food. "Well... I guess I should, um... go find a place to sit, then." She glances around, spotting a small wooden chair tucked away in the corner of the kitchen and quickly walks over to pull it out.