[She could stand a couple more places to hide-out. He's in luck though! Since she doesn't have one of those quiet places, she's coming to him. Which honestly is a lot when it comes to her.
It's somewhere between 8:15 and 8:20 when she shows up at the door and knocks. Taking a step back to wait, her arms behind her back, hands neatly folded over each other in a 'parade rest' stance, she's tense and upset making the rigidity of her posture comforting. If she can't control who is brought here or when they leave, then at least she can keep control of herself.
Which is funny considering that this morning when she woke up, alone, James gone just like he warned her he would be, having control over herself was the the what she was afraid of losing. As the day has progressed she's managed to reign herself in- a larger effort than she had expected- and now she's more or less back to normal.
She might even talk to him. She hasn't decided yet, but she could.. which is one of a handful of reasons why she'd rather meet somewhere more private.]
[This apartment and everything in it is an inheritance of the city's mercurial nature. He inherited it from himself, from someone who he was three years ago, who vanished to be replaced by who he is now. Older, less and more wise. Lonelier. Whoever he'd been three years ago, they left him with a few friends, a cat, this apartment, a bank account more than overflowing and a few hazy memories he's more prone to deny than admit.
In this apartment, though, the memories are harder to avoid. The other people who lived there speak to him through books left on shelves, the neatly stocked cupboards of kitchen utensils. Occasional flashes of blonde hair in the corner of his eye.
He's shut down the side of the apartment that used to house his room - though he still has belongings in there, the rooms are dark once you pass the bathroom. Instead he's set up in one of the spares. A bed, a bookshelf. It's impersonal enough for the time he spends in this building. He's very rarely here alone, although he did arrive early, with wine and chinese food, which sits still-bagged on the kitchen counter when he opens the door to her. Off duty but still with the faint formality of work about him. the blue buttondown he's wearing had a tie until twenty minutes ago.
He smiles, as he opens the door.]
I forgot to ask if you ate meat, but figured tofu was as much of a risk as chicken.
[She would know a little about living in the footsteps of another version of yourself, although at least in her case she is burdened by the memories of her other times here. She's weighed down by knowledge of events that have yet to happen to people she calls friends, and the understanding that even though most of her colleagues here know her they're all from different versions of reality.
Wanting to trust them, as she would at home most often without hesitation, but unable to do so because they are all... different. Somehow, she manages to be lonely even surrounded by familiar faces and allies. Maybe it's the fact that they are familiar that makes it so much worse, she hasn't given herself a chance to think too much about it.
Instead, she's closed off most of her thoughts- not unlike the doors in his apartment- hiding away that part of her that is frightened and almost hopeless.
She had to get away from that, especially after the weekend. Someplace... separate from her 'normal' life.
Her smile is soft and... small.]
I eat meat, but pausing for consideration of my preference is appreciated.
[She steps inside and manages to relax subtly. Slipping out of her coat she folds it over her arm. Her dress is casual, and at the same time manages to be elegant without being too much. Plain black and comfortable, it fits her curves but doesn't give away too much.
On inside the relative privacy of the apartment she offers a slightly more warm smile.]
[And he doesn't object to that, just like he doesn't object to her not calling until she needs distraction. That's what so many human relationships are. Little islands to cling to and stop thinking about how tough it can be to swim against the tide. Maybe it's callous, but he's becoming well practiced in finding short term distractions. Alcohol can leave his hands shaky in the morning. People don't.
That's what this place is, in itself. Somewhere he doesn't have to think about the people he knows here, none of whom quite know him. The apartment keeps its own secrets, it doesn't need any more from him.
He holds his hands out for her coat, though it will just go over the back of one of the chairs tucked under a desk-cum-dining table in the living room, and doesn't hide the fact that he's looking over the outfit.]
Rough weekend? Sorry [He winces apology.] Said I wouldn't ask.
[Distraction. Because it's easier to let herself relax and at least pretend she's not what she is when she's with someone who wouldn't know.
Distraction. Because she's good enough at what she does to know that despite everything he is, he's not that much different from her. He has his secrets, his dark hidden corners, just like she does. Hers might be darker and deeper, but that doesn't change the fact that they're there just the same.
She hands him the coat, where it ends up really doesn't make a difference right now, she doesn't have any intentions of leaving very soon anyway.
Her smile wavers just a flinch, the question is innocent enough, she can't be upset with him for trying to make conversation. Especially, not when she's not exactly the easiest person to make conversation with.]
I don't mind. The weekend was... more difficult than I expected. [A line creases her brow.] It wasn't all bad, the ending was the worst part.
[Mostly, the waking up alone, after clinging so hard to the one thing she really hoped she wouldn't have to let go of. Letting down her defenses to the one person she knows she can without judgement and then having to wall it all back up so quickly. Saying the weekend was difficult is like saying that a paper cup is a good way to stop a flood.
Her gaze drifts to the kitchen and then back to him.]
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[Text ~> Action; (backdated)]
[She could stand a couple more places to hide-out. He's in luck though! Since she doesn't have one of those quiet places, she's coming to him. Which honestly is a lot when it comes to her.
It's somewhere between 8:15 and 8:20 when she shows up at the door and knocks. Taking a step back to wait, her arms behind her back, hands neatly folded over each other in a 'parade rest' stance, she's tense and upset making the rigidity of her posture comforting. If she can't control who is brought here or when they leave, then at least she can keep control of herself.
Which is funny considering that this morning when she woke up, alone, James gone just like he warned her he would be, having control over herself was the the what she was afraid of losing. As the day has progressed she's managed to reign herself in- a larger effort than she had expected- and now she's more or less back to normal.
She might even talk to him. She hasn't decided yet, but she could.. which is one of a handful of reasons why she'd rather meet somewhere more private.]
[Text ~> Action; (backdated)]
In this apartment, though, the memories are harder to avoid. The other people who lived there speak to him through books left on shelves, the neatly stocked cupboards of kitchen utensils. Occasional flashes of blonde hair in the corner of his eye.
He's shut down the side of the apartment that used to house his room - though he still has belongings in there, the rooms are dark once you pass the bathroom. Instead he's set up in one of the spares. A bed, a bookshelf. It's impersonal enough for the time he spends in this building. He's very rarely here alone, although he did arrive early, with wine and chinese food, which sits still-bagged on the kitchen counter when he opens the door to her. Off duty but still with the faint formality of work about him. the blue buttondown he's wearing had a tie until twenty minutes ago.
He smiles, as he opens the door.]
I forgot to ask if you ate meat, but figured tofu was as much of a risk as chicken.
[And he steps back to let her in.]
Hey.
[Action; (backdated)]
Wanting to trust them, as she would at home most often without hesitation, but unable to do so because they are all... different. Somehow, she manages to be lonely even surrounded by familiar faces and allies. Maybe it's the fact that they are familiar that makes it so much worse, she hasn't given herself a chance to think too much about it.
Instead, she's closed off most of her thoughts- not unlike the doors in his apartment- hiding away that part of her that is frightened and almost hopeless.
She had to get away from that, especially after the weekend. Someplace... separate from her 'normal' life.
Her smile is soft and... small.]
I eat meat, but pausing for consideration of my preference is appreciated.
[She steps inside and manages to relax subtly. Slipping out of her coat she folds it over her arm. Her dress is casual, and at the same time manages to be elegant without being too much. Plain black and comfortable, it fits her curves but doesn't give away too much.
On inside the relative privacy of the apartment she offers a slightly more warm smile.]
Hey. I should have called sooner.
[Action; (backdated)]
[And he doesn't object to that, just like he doesn't object to her not calling until she needs distraction. That's what so many human relationships are. Little islands to cling to and stop thinking about how tough it can be to swim against the tide. Maybe it's callous, but he's becoming well practiced in finding short term distractions. Alcohol can leave his hands shaky in the morning. People don't.
That's what this place is, in itself. Somewhere he doesn't have to think about the people he knows here, none of whom quite know him. The apartment keeps its own secrets, it doesn't need any more from him.
He holds his hands out for her coat, though it will just go over the back of one of the chairs tucked under a desk-cum-dining table in the living room, and doesn't hide the fact that he's looking over the outfit.]
Rough weekend? Sorry [He winces apology.] Said I wouldn't ask.
[Action; (backdated)]
[Distraction. Because it's easier to let herself relax and at least pretend she's not what she is when she's with someone who wouldn't know.
Distraction. Because she's good enough at what she does to know that despite everything he is, he's not that much different from her. He has his secrets, his dark hidden corners, just like she does. Hers might be darker and deeper, but that doesn't change the fact that they're there just the same.
She hands him the coat, where it ends up really doesn't make a difference right now, she doesn't have any intentions of leaving very soon anyway.
Her smile wavers just a flinch, the question is innocent enough, she can't be upset with him for trying to make conversation. Especially, not when she's not exactly the easiest person to make conversation with.]
I don't mind. The weekend was... more difficult than I expected. [A line creases her brow.] It wasn't all bad, the ending was the worst part.
[Mostly, the waking up alone, after clinging so hard to the one thing she really hoped she wouldn't have to let go of. Letting down her defenses to the one person she knows she can without judgement and then having to wall it all back up so quickly. Saying the weekend was difficult is like saying that a paper cup is a good way to stop a flood.
Her gaze drifts to the kitchen and then back to him.]
Do you need any help with anything?