Blake's jaw dropped when she saw the interior of Pyrrha's apartment. While she herself did not live in poverty, a writer's salary was nothing compared to the kind of money that would afford a place like this. It was quite clear that her time as the "Champion of Mistral University" had brought the athlete good fortune, what with all the sponsorships and scholarships she must have received. The layout itself was very modern and minimalist, yet it still looked rather comfortable. The living room was spacious, especially considering that Pyrrha seemed to be living alone – perhaps she had a lot of friends to invite over? Of course she would, Blake mused, a girl this pretty and well-known shouldn't lack for company. The writer also noticed an almost over-abundance of rugs, blankets, and pillows that were scattered everywhere; it would be a perfect place for napping, a new spot for her to curl up in every time.

However, all Blake managed to say was, "Wow…"

Pyrrha noticed the awe with which her companion was surveying the apartment and immediately attempted to deflate any sense of grandeur. "It's nothing special, really. When I told my coach that I was planning on moving to Vale, she immediately started pulling some strings to find a place for me to stay at a discount price. I insisted that I was perfectly capable of finding an apartment on my own – I even considered living with a roommate from around here – but… well, when a person has been taking care of you for so many years, they don't really take no for an answer." The redhead probably did not notice it herself, but Blake could have sworn that she saw her expression darken ever so slightly.

"Sounds like you've gotten tired of people looking out for you," Blake said conclusively.

"Yeah…" Pyrrha almost sounded guilty. "I mean, they're good people, and I really appreciate everything they've done for me, but it's just like you said. I wanted to make a new path for myself, one that didn't revolve around my fame."

The faunus smiled softly. "That's very admirable of you. Most people cling to their fame as if it was the heart of who they were, while you just let go of it."

"Thanks, Blake," the athlete replied, returning the smile. However, the smile quickly faded as she smacked herself on the forehead. "Oh, great, now we're talking about me again! Argh, I need to stop doing that… here, let me so you my room so you can go change into something other than that coffee-stained shirt."

Blake followed the redheaded woman into her room, which, to her great surprise, looked nothing like the rest of the apartment. Apparently, all of Pyrrha's messiness was piled into one small bedroom, with clothes scattered everywhere, a little desk by the window that had an unkempt stack of folders resting on it, and a few books laid upside down on her nightstand. Her closest was no different – although it seemed as though Pyrrha had less outfits than most women her age, she somehow managed to find a way to clutter up everything. Despite this, every outfit there was quite tasteful, which is saying something for the faunus. Blake is very particular when it comes to what she wears, usually opting for neutral colors and simple yet elegant designs – the athlete had this in spades.

"I'm sorry about all this mess, by the way – if I'd known that I was going to bring someone over, I would have taken the time to clean up," the redhead said while nervously rubbing the back of her neck.

The writer chuckled at Pyrrha's concern. "Trust me, I've seen messier people." Namely myself, she mentally added. Blake then pointed to the closet and asked, "So, should I change in there, or…"

"Oh, right! You need to change, and I'm interrupting you! Okay, you can have the room to yourself for a bit. Anything that you see and want to wear is yours, but just don't get anything from off the floor – that's all dirty. Oh, and just toss out your shirt into the hall and I'll throw it into the washing machine while I make you some coffee and lunch."

"You really don't have to do all that, I already know you're sorry about running into me. It's not that big of a deal, honest." Being here with you, on the other hand, is a pretty damn big deal.

Pyrrha shook her head and wagged her finger. "No, that won't do. You're my guest, and I have to treat you well, and that means I need to get you something to eat while we wait." She turned to leave the bedroom, but not without saying, "If you need help with something, just give me a holler!"

Blake smiled warmly, responding, "Will do." When the door shut behind Pyrrha, however, instead of finding something to change into, the writer made a beeline for the nightstand to take a look at what kind of books this woman was reading. The faunus has found in the past that she can learn quite a lot about a person's character from what they read – reading is often a very private experience that is made to bring the reader into a world of their choosing, freeing them of the social limitations of this world. Naturally, Blake was curious about what kind of things this hospitable and beautiful woman was interested in; all she knew was that she was a famous athlete who was attempting to escape her old image. That ought to make for some interesting internal conflicts, Blake mused.

She picked up the first book and turned it over to the cover. "Tough Meat: A Complete Guide to the Most Common Muscular Ailments," she read aloud. No surprise here, she is a physical therapist after all, Blake thought, slightly disappointed that she could not deduce anything more from this. I suppose this means that she takes her line of work very seriously, but that's no surprise, considering what lengths she went to in order to take care of me. Mouth creasing slightly at the last thought, the writer picked up the next book in the pile, an older hardcover this time. "On Wings of Victory," she read, looking at the picture of a man with grand, white wings ascending into the heavens. Seemed like something an athlete like Pyrrha might read, but Blake knew not to judge a book by its cover. She turned to the back of the book to read the description and found herself a little disappointed when her initial assessment turned out to be correct. Another story of the self-made sportsman – dust, these get boring real quick, Blake lamented as she closed the book with an audible "thud!" Is this all there is to her? If that's the case, I don't think I'm going to have a chance wi-

Her train of thought came to a halt when she noticed the last book, however. It was a small, black paperback with ornate red lettering that Blake knew all too well – a simple romance novella called "Ninjas of Love." To most people, this was just a smutty fanfiction created for a popular TV series, but to Blake, it was so much more. If the reader was mature enough to not freak out over the several sexual encounters that took place in the story, they would see a beautifully crafted tale of impossible love that explored both the better and worse parts of human nature. In fact, it was because of this novel that Blake started to get into writing, as she wanted to tell stories as deep and moving to others as it had been for her. The faunus's disappointment faded away to reveal a wide grin. Well, isn't this quite the surprise – maybe I was too quick to judge her. Satisfied with her discovery, she headed over to the closet to pick out a new top to change into.

Once she found something to her liking – a cute little cream-colored sweater with argyle stitching – Blake stepped out the bedroom and went to put her blouse in the washing machine. As she did so, she noticed something was off – no sign of Pyrrha. From what little she knew of the redhead, the writer gathered that she was the kind of person to be very attentive when looking after others, so she fully expected to be bombarded with questions about whether she had found everything alright and such. However, the place was silent except for the washing machine whirring in the background. Did she step out to get the mail or something? She wandered quietly through the apartment, trying to find where her hostess was. Eventually, she found her in the living room, intently pouring some papers that were scattered on the coffee table. It then dawned on Blake that she had left her story and notes out on the table before she went to change. Well now, this is certainly getting interesting.

"You like what you see?" Blake teased. Pyrrha gasped and sprang up from the chair, attempting to quickly throw all the papers together to hide the fact that she had been reading through them. She did not succeed in fooling anyone.

"H-hey there, didn't hear you walk up!" The athlete, whose face was rapidly turning the same color as her hair, took a moment to catch her breath and regain composure. "I see you found something to wear for now; it looks good on you."

"Thanks," the writer replied with a soft smile. "It helps that you have good taste in clothing."

Pyrrha giggled lightly upon hearing that. "Ah, they're nothing special, really. I rarely have the time to go shopping, anyway. Oh, here, I made you some coffee!" She passed a steaming mug that had been sitting at the end of the table to Blake, who accepted it with a nod. "I forgot to ask how you like it, so I just added a spoon of sugar and hazelnut creamer."

Blake raised an inquisitive eyebrow. "If this was made from espresso and not drip coffee, you'd have made my usual brew." She took a sip to try it out. It was not the greatest brew, but it was free, and the faunus found that free tastes very good. "You still haven't answered my question, by the way."

"What do you mean?" Blake merely gestured toward her scattered papers on the table and Pyrrha's fit of nervousness from earlier resumed. "O-oh, that! Sorry, I didn't mean to be nosy! It's just… you said you were a writer, so I was curious about what exactly you wrote, and you left your stuff on the table, so I figured there'd be no harm in taking a peek. I didn't get very far, don't worry!"

"I don't mind, really," the writer responded with a chuckle. Normally, she would be absolutely livid if someone else had read through her work, but after seeing Ninjas of Love in this woman's room, she was inclined to be more open. It also helped that Blake was also seeking for a way for them to connect. "What did you think?"

After a moment of silence, Pyrrha said with a small voice, "I'd love to continue to read more.

It was now Blake's turn to blush. Okay, wow, she actually likes it. And likes it a lot, considering how she's trying to hide it. Does this mean I have a chance? "That's… that's the nicest thing I've heard anyone say about my writing," she said meekly. Another pause. "Well, I still need to make some finishing touches before I can send this in, but… you're welcome to read it when I'm done. It'll be good to have a second opinion."

The redhead looked up at her with wide, eager eyes. "I would love that." Blake's heart nearly skipped a beat when she heard that.

Oh, Dust, this is the best day of my life.

You know, this story was originally going to stop here, but I'm honestly thinking about continuing it. It's going to be mostly fluff and such and it'll likely be updated somewhat irregularly, but I had a lot of fun writing this! I don't have a grand scheme for this one, so if/when I continue with more chapters, they'll be more episodic than serial.

I hope you have enjoyed these dorks as much as I have writing them, and I hope to see y'all in the future!