Maxwell Peary furrowed his brows, momentarily confused by what Nia Mitchell was saying.
"The thing, you know?"
What thing?
"It's... it's that, you know! Just move!"
Nia Mitchell blushed furiously, at a loss for words.
"What is 'that'?"
Nia Mitchell covered her face.
"It's my period!"
BOOM—
Maxwell Peary was devastated; his whole world seemed to collapse. Hmph! Nia Mitchell, if you dare say that again, I swear I won't tear you limb from limb!
"Move out of the way!"
Nia Mitchell, her face beet-red, pushed him aside. She quickly snatched her pajamas, put them on, and bolted to the bathroom.
Maxwell Peary hadn't yet recovered. By the time he slowly accepted this fact and sat up from the bed, a red stain on the sheet caught his eye.
COUGH!
He awkwardly averted his eyes. He picked up his black pajamas from the side and put them on, only to find a red spot on his thigh as well.
GULP!
