[Calann]: 135.Happy House.First floor

Living room.

Obsessively neat, the room has no sign of disarray. No toys reveal the presence of children, all the seats are positioned perfectly. There is not a mote of dust to be seen. Even the empty ale cans stand in neat rows beside the low glass table, upon which remote controller, newspaper and flower vase all have their own spot. It is a room that, even though bathed in light coming through windows, seems hushed, lifeless. Dark. The only thing not arranged just so is the large basket near the television, colourful blankets bundled up in a heap, small tufts of fur here and there.
Pathetic little mewling sounds come from a basin right beside the balcony door. Its cover is transparent, with a few uneven holes punched through. The container is too small, and there is splashing caused by ineffectual attempts to be freed. Moments later, both sounds stop.



Balcony.

Blowing out the last of the smoke, the man stumps his cigarette on the railing, shifts his stance, grunts. Flexes the hand that still smarts, both from the beating he gave the brat and from scratches made by tiny sharp nails. Shifts again as he feels heat pooling, finds himself longing the pliant flesh of his wife, soft as satin. These things excite him so.
As he glances down, he sees someone crossing the yard. One of that little slut's friends. She is such a disobedient girl, scratched him, tried to bite. Won't be getting out in a while. His wife will see to that. He stretches, turns back inside. Gazes thoughtfully at the basin, shrugs, heads for the stairs. Smiles lazily.

"Now, then... I think I'll go take my dessert first."