Putting any weight at all on the guest bed caused it to groan ominously, but when Owen sat down on it the entire frame buckled in the middle, bowing the mattress up at either end in a comical V shape. The man himself yelped, suddenly finding himself dropping all the way to the floor. Even Jean gasped and stepped back.
"Well, that's just..."
"Pretty much exactly what I should have expected," Owen finished for his sister, picking himself up from the unsteady, useless mattress and ambling back toward the living room, "Couch it is, then."
With his longer legs and head start, Owen turned the corner and made it to the sofa before Jean reached the living room. The snap of breaking wood, and the thump of a weight hitting the floor got to her before then too, and at those sounds Jean froze, eyes closed, wincing.
"Fuck! What is the deal with your furniture, Jorts?"
"What's up with your ass, it keeps breaking my stuff!" Though her voice carried a laugh in it, Jean's brow furrowed as she rounded the corner and saw the damage for the first time. Again the thing had broken under Owen, wooded edges protruding from the fabric underneath the couch. The entire structure bowed forward, only damaged at the front edge; anyone attempting to lie down there would simply roll off onto the floor.
"So like... do I even try one of your chairs, or should I just hang from the ceiling like a bat?" Owen smiled, but there was a helpless tint to it that Jean couldn't help but sympathize with, a sort of 'what can you do?' wanness that could only result from a bad night that just kept being bad, relentlessly.
"I've got a bed that works, think you can avoid ass-blasting it into oblivion?" Jean tilted her head to one side, voice edged with sisterly sweet sarcasm, "We used to do that all the time when we were young, so I know you can keep a bed alive if you put your mind to it."
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