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That was probably the tequila in her talking.
Most likely both.
Penn laughed carelessly for the first time in what felt like weeks as she moved toward the bedroom area of the car, opening dresser drawers and pulling out clothing to toss about until the floor was littered with random piles. She moved from the drawers over to the half-naked man in the room, taking his hand to spin in several circles. Where had the rest of their own clothes gone? Had they walked to the train car without them or had they been removed in the wake of their current destructive fun?
Who the hell really cared?
She needed this. This mindless fun with a friend she wasn't in love with.
"What else?" she asked as she surveyed the room, her body refusing to remain still and continuing to move to the music.
Besides, he really needed to get Penn out of her funk. Normally Wolfgang would be the man for that job-- it was just he was the reason for said funk. So, Homer took it upon himself. He knew enticing Penn with tequila would make her a little more open to suggestion. As they kept drinking their party for two ideas kept getting grander and grander until the ventriloquist decided it would be a good idea to trash Lucifer's traincar.
It was proving to be the best idea. They had lost their clothes, save for their underwear, somewhere along the way and probably mixed in with the clothes they had tore from drawers and hangers to toss in the air to make cotton rain.
He was breathing hard and laughing breathlessly when Penn stopped to actually talk. Homer gave her a big grin and put his fingers to his lips. He skipped over to where the phone was blasting songs and flipped through songs until he found one of Penn's favorites.
As Shakira warbled about her hips, Homer grabbed Penn by the hands and led her to the bed. He stood up on the mattress and while singing the lyrics to the song loudly began to jump on the bed.
She needed to tell Wolfgang what she was keeping so bottled up that it had caused an awkwardness between them that had never been there before. He could tell she was hiding something; she could see how much is frustrated and confused him. She had tried to say it but every time she opened her mouth it never came out. She just couldn't find the words when she saw him.
Not the words that would properly describe the emotions inside her.
This night out with Homer was a distraction and one she desperately needed. She might feel guilty about destroying someone else's property in the morning but for now it was simply fun.
Penn laughed with delight as they jumped on the bed, singing along with the ventriloquist. She picked up several pillows, tossing them from the bed to join the clothes and hangers on the floor. By the time the song finally ended she jumped from the bed and moved toward one of several bookshelves. Everything in the train car was so organized. There wasn't a single item out of place in the entire car; everything tucked away so neatly that it almost looked staged.
At least with everything a mess the place actually looked lived in.
She flipped the books off the shelf one by one, humming along to the next song. "How mad do you think he's going to be when he gets back?"
Jumping off the bed, Homer opened up a beside table drawer and found it full of fancy pens. He blinked. He knew that he was last person that was allowed to find something strange but a drawer full of pen, expensive looking pens, was very weird. Hauling out the drawer he upturned it so that every single pen fell to the floor with a distinct plastic slap. They clicked against each other and the shine of them caught the light. Homer was high enough to find it pretty.
"Is this weird?" he asked Penn, waving her over to look at the pens.
"This is like serial killer type of stuff," Homer laughed again. "Do you think we should be more scared than we are about this?"
Penn turned toward the sound of pens clattering to the floor with mild amusement. “Lucifer? A serial killer?” The hoop dancer - though she was thinking of taking a temporary career change in the near future - took a moment to seriously consider the question. There had been a time when she would have laughed it off; would have playfully denied such a notion that anyone in the circus could be a genuine serial killer. That girl was stupid, she had decided; disbelieving someone she lived among couldn’t be a serial killer was just as stupid as believing her boyfriend wasn’t sleeping with his sister behind her back.
“It’s possible,” she finally agreed with a shrug before bending down to pick up one of the many scattered pens. “He does seem to have that vibe of someone who would murder you and lock your body in a closet for years." She took a look around the bedroom before moving back toward the living room area of the train car.
"Anyway, it's too late to back out now. Unless you feel like putting on a maid costume and getting to work with the clean up," she teased. "Maybe we should check the closets though. Just in case."
But, as always, the pair of them were in constant motion, never straying on one topic for too long. It was probably want made them get along so well; they didn't have time to stand still, they both craved movement and excitement.
Stepping down from the bed, Homer followed behind Penn, pausing only to shake his head about the maid costume. Nah, he didn't feel bad enough or scared enough to tidy up the destruction they had wrought. It was only going to get worse as Penn reminded Homer of the closets.
"We should! I bet Lucifer has all kinds of expensive suits we can play with... and by play with I mean ruin." Homer winked at her. "And if we find a dead body or two, bonus!" he laughed and started straight for the closet. He opened the doors and began to thrown suits on their hangers to the floor.