More knocking.

More sighing.

With another knock came another sigh.

Knock, sigh, knock, sigh…knock…sigh…knock…sigh—

One more clearly annoyed knock sounded, and Ashley finally gave in because it was starting to get extremely annoying.

She rolled off the couch and walked towards the door. Leaning down to pick up the notebook, she read what was on the first page.

I’m sorry. Can we talk, please?

Ashley rolled her eyes.

At least the writing was legible. Both girls had friends who usually used all the short hands while IMing or passing note back and forth. It drove them both crazy. There wasn’t really a set reason why, but both girls were ‘Grammar Nazis’, to say the least.

She went to reply.

“…Pen would be nice,” she mumbled.

Spencer had forgotten to give her the pen, along with the notebook.

The brunette sat down by the door. She hit it with her fist once, and, sure enough, seconds later a pen came rolling under the doorway. No words exchanged. They could clearly read the other’s mind, and Spencer knew what Ashley wanted by the force of her rough knock on the door. It was almost enough to make the older girl smile. Almost.

She skipped a line under what Spencer had written and scribbled her own note. She shoved the notebook under the door; then rolled the pen uoder, as well.

The blonde picked both up and read:

Sorry, I don’t speak fruit.

Spencer scoffed, wrote under that, and passed the notebook back under the door.

Ashley intercepted. The newest read:

Funny, pineapple joke. What’s up with your handwriting anyway? It’s a mess, did you have a seizure or something?

The brunette glared at the notebook; then she glared through the wood of the door at Spencer. It wasn’t her fault that her handwriting was bad, it just was. The younger girl’s was easily read, though. A mixture between cursive and normal print. Some letters loopy, others not so much. Ashley’s on the other hand…well, Spencer was nearly correct in saying that it looked like the girl was having a seizure while she wrote.

Not amused, the brunette scribbled back.

Spencer read, and her mouth fell open.

Shut up and go juice yourself or something!

At this rate, they weren’t going to accomplish anything. It was turning into a mute argument.

I’m not a pineapple! The joke’s not funny anymore!

Who’s being funny? I’m dead serious.

You’re intolerable!

You’re an ass!

It went on with back and forth insults for a short while, until Spencer remembered her whole point in starting this. She wanted to talk with Ashley and make tiings right. Not yell at each other via pen and paper. Actually, the whole thing seemed downright idiotic when she thought about it.

Sighing, the blonde wrote something for a change of pace, and slid it under the door.

Thinking it would be another insult, Ashley snatched the notebook up from the ground, and glared at it as she read. Her glare softened.

Look, I didn’t do this so we could start fighting with each other, more. I did it, so I could get you to listen to me. I’m sorry. Can we talk, PLEASE?

Spencer sat, picking at the carpet, waiting for the notebook to come back her way. The response probably being Ashley just telling her where to shove it.

To her surprise, the door slowly opened revealing Ashley, sitting cross legged on the floor, opposite her.

“So…talk,” Ashley said.