| Subject: girls rule, boys drool. |
Author:
Rilo
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Date Posted: 17:58:49 09/13/05 Tue
In reply to:
Derae
's message, "set it on fire." on 20:06:58 09/12/05 Mon
Ah, so he wasn't breaking in for the apartment's possessions; he was going to camp out in someone else's home. Hopefully no one lived there, else it might get kind of...disputed. But it's better than an old-run down warehouse though not by much. And too bad he wasn't more chipper, for she would of lent a hand if he had asked. Instead, she was asked to scram. Mental shrug. It was along the lines of doable. Besides, she had another phone call to make. Maybe this time someone would have something for her. Come to think of it, she was getting a little antsy; perhaps catalyzed by the male's mood?
The girl straightened and pulled on a dark curl near the side of her face. "I'm sure you'll get some quiet round here, this place seems pretty dead. But uh, good luck with that Mac. Might get a move on it 'fore someone else happens along." She flashed him a quick grin and took two steps forward, the second followed by a more hesitant one. A few ideas crossed her mind. Couldn't hurt to ask. Wonder if he'd let her take a look around the rooms when he'd gotten it opened up? It was worth a chance, but better yet, why didn't she just crack open one of the adjacent doors? Eureka, captain.
Her smile fell from pale cracked lips as she dallied down the next handful of doors. At each she pressed an ear to each entrance. For the most part noise from a television or stereo proved residence. But three doors down sounded quiet enough. Maybe she'd strike lucky and wind up more fortunate then the rough looking gentleman.
The door's paint was chipping and there was a stained tribute to where a welcome mat once lay on the floor. The handle was scratched and dirty, but hey, better than a warehouse. One hand fished around her back pocket. Nope, nothing useful there. Next one yielded the same result. Aha! On her third exploration she found a crooked hairpin, just the veteran she needed for convincing locked doors. Squatting, she narrowed her gaze and observed the task in front of her nose. Wouldn't be too difficult; there wasn't nothing fancy here. So she poked and prodded the brown pin into the keyhole, jostled it around a bit. A minute of twisting, coaxing, and luck brought the door to an open opinion. Easy peasy lemon squeezy.
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