Weathering the Storm
Written for Lamia of the Dark's Return of the Daily Weird Prompt Thing
Prompt - something about bad roommates and toenail clippings
A storm was coming. Local weather reports said that this was going to be the worst storm of the season. Heavy rain was expected, along with driving winds, thunder and lightning.
This wouldn't be a problem for most people. But then most people didn't live in tents in the middle of the woods.
Scabior kept the radio on, listening for updates on the storm's progress as it approached the forest. It wasn't long until the winds picked up, and heavy rain pelted the sides of his tent. Thunder rumbled overhead, followed by a loud crack as lightning struck a nearby tree, severing a large branch and sending it crashing to the ground.
Scabior was just about to take a look outside when Greyback came running into his tent.
The werewolf was shivering and soaking wet from being out in the rain. There was a smell about him which resembled that of a wet dog, and he was dripping water all over the floor.
"Wha 'appened to you?" Scabior asked.
"What happened to me?" said Greyback. "A tree branch is what happened to me. Damn thing came crashing down on my tent while I was sleeping.
"I'm going to need a place to stay until the storm blows over. Is it alright if I stay here with you?"
Scabior looked down at the puddle forming around Greyback's feet. A trail of muddy footprints followed him out the door. Greyback was wet, he smelled awful, and now he wanted to spend the night with him. Scabior didn't fancy the thought of having him as a roommate, but he didn't want to throw him out in the rain either. He reluctantly agreed to let Greyback stay with him, then offered to get him a towel so he could dry off.
"I don't need a towel," said Greyback. "I can dry off just fine without one." He then proceeded to shake himself off like a dog, spattering Scabior and the walls with a shower of muddy rainwater.
"Dammit, Greyback!" Scabior swore, backing away and raising his hands in front of him in an attempt to shield himself from the onslaught of watery mud. He could tell that this was going to be a very long night.
After drying himself off, Greyback immediately wanted to go back to sleep. He laid down on Scabior's bed, turned in a circle three times, and curled up on the center of the mattress.
Scabior yelled at him, telling him to get his wet, muddy arse off the bed.
"Since when am I not allowed on the furniture?" Greyback queried, looking rather annoyed.
"Since you rolled in mud an came in smelling like wet dog," Scabior snapped. "Now get the bloody 'ell off my bed an go take a shower."
Greyback got off the bed, grumbling and muttering to himself as he made his way to the bathroom. He removed his soggy clothes and left them lying on the floor while he took a shower.
While he was taking a shower, Scabior cleaned up the mud that covered the floor, the walls and portions of his bed. It was times like these that made him grateful he was a wizard, and could magically clean up any mess in a matter if seconds. He also cleaned and dried Greyback's clothes, which wasn't easy due to the accumulation of mud, filth, hair, and dried blood that coated the fabric of his robes.
Scabior took a closer look at the hair that was stuck in the mud on Greyback's shirt. Was Greyback shedding?
In order to keep Greyback off his bed, Scabior conjured a cot for the werewolf to sleep on. He also gave him one of his spare blankets to keep him warm.
Greyback settled himself on the cot, gazing around the room as he listened to the sound of the wind and rain outside. Scabior thought he would go to sleep. But a few minutes later he heard snipping sounds coming from the corner of the room, and felt something lighly tap him on the back of his hand.
He looked over and saw that Greyback had a pair of nail clippers, and was now trimming his toenails. Nail clippings went flying across the room with every snip, landing on the floor and on Scabior's desk.
"Do you 'ave to do tha in 'ere?" Scabior asked. "You're getting toenail clippings all over the floor."
"So? They're just nail clippings," said Greyback, shrugging off Scabior's concern.
"They're sharp, Greyback. If I step on one of them, I'm liable to cut my foot open."
Greyback rolled his eyes. "Honestly, Scabior. You act like they're everywhere and you can't move without risking life and limb."
"I'm serious," said Scabior, brushing the clippings off his desk. "An who knows wha kind of bacteria an barnacles you've got growing on your feet. It would be a good way to end up in St. Mungo's with a severe infection after slicing my foot open on one of those things."
"I don't have barnacles on my feet!" Greyback growled. "And despite what you may think, I don't have fleas either."