"Maka! Where's my sheet music?" Soul called from his room. The room had been turned upside-down in his procurar for the scraps of paper he'd written his new song on.
"What does it look like?" Maka asked, peeking her head into the doorway. A few artigos of clothing were thrown into her face as Soul searched frantically in his closet.
"Scraps of paper, napkins, paper bags, all with música written on them!" he answered angrily. He gingerly picked up a moldy sanduíche from within the black hole he called a closet. "Found my snack from last week…"
Maka rolled her eyes at him. He'd thrown a hissy-fit...