Jon stepped back outside, and presented himself to Zoe. "There, am I presentable?" he asked. "Really, to get scolded on what I wear on my own..." My own what? Zoe's my sister, but she's not acting like it, and I felt like calling her something else there.
"Fine, I guess it's actually pretty tame for you," Zoe relented, before turning her gaze downward. "Hold on, what's that?" she asked, pointing at Jon's waist.
Jon looked down to what Zoe was pointing, to see the hem of his boxers poking out above his pants. "Oh those? Just boxers."
"Boxers? Oh, jeez, that's gross!"
"What, are boxers gross now?" Jon asked, in a mixture of confusion and indignation.
"They are when you think of the implications," Zoe retorted. "Think about it. Living in the house are you, me, Linda, and Michelle, which means there's not a single boy in there, which means they must be left over from... left over from... ugh, seriously, I do not want mental images of you doing that in my head. Now go back in there and put a pair of your own underwear on, not leftovers from one of your crazy nights."
Jon rolled his eyes as Zoe shoved him back inside the master bedroom. Jeez, so much for that. Zoe's pretty uptight for a teenage goth girl. Wait, Linda and Michelle? She couldn't mean Mom and Mikey, could she? Things are spiraling out of control. I need to get to the stone before the changes to me or my family get any worse. But first things first, I need a change of panties.
