[Inigo can't help it if The Darkness I Believe in a Thing Called Love just happened to come on his iDock's shuffle. He also can't help it if the song is so damn catchy and begging for him to sing along with it. At full volume. Falsetto and all.]
Touching you~ooo~ooh, touching mee~ee...! Touching you, god you're touching me~!
[A pause (or a reprieve from torture, depending on how one chooses to interpret things) as he dips his head under the hail of water to rinse the soap and shampoo out. Naturally, he's using Owain's bottle. Oops.
Oh, hey, it's time for the chorus.]
I believe in a thing called love, just listentotherhythmofmyheart! There's a chance we could make it now! We'll be rockin'tillthesungoesdown! I believe in a thing called looooooo~ve!
[Thankfully, a loud squeak cuts through the high-pitched operatics and the water turns off, as does the music. Thus, Owain and anyone within a five-mile radius is spared from any further noise. A shame, too. Inigo was finally finding his groove. Ah well. There's always next time.
He emerges from the shower moments later, one towel around his waist barely covering the shorts he has on beneath it, another bundled up in his wet hair. Upon closer inspection, it looks like one of the towels from the clean load of laundry brought in today.
Owain's laundry, that is.
Anyway, while heading to his room, he blinks at the living room, eyebrow arching at its current state.]
...hey, Owain. You might want to, I don't know, remember that you don't live alone. Sheesh.
It works!
Touching you~ooo~ooh, touching mee~ee...! Touching you, god you're touching me~!
[A pause (or a reprieve from torture, depending on how one chooses to interpret things) as he dips his head under the hail of water to rinse the soap and shampoo out. Naturally, he's using Owain's bottle. Oops.
Oh, hey, it's time for the chorus.]
I believe in a thing called love, just listentotherhythmofmyheart! There's a chance we could make it now! We'll be rockin'tillthesungoesdown! I believe in a thing called looooooo~ve!
[Thankfully, a loud squeak cuts through the high-pitched operatics and the water turns off, as does the music. Thus, Owain and anyone within a five-mile radius is spared from any further noise. A shame, too. Inigo was finally finding his groove. Ah well. There's always next time.
He emerges from the shower moments later, one towel around his waist barely covering the shorts he has on beneath it, another bundled up in his wet hair. Upon closer inspection, it looks like one of the towels from the clean load of laundry brought in today.
Owain's laundry, that is.
Anyway, while heading to his room, he blinks at the living room, eyebrow arching at its current state.]
...hey, Owain. You might want to, I don't know, remember that you don't live alone. Sheesh.