Description of Lobby Area coming soon.

Autumn 1, Year 6
9:00 am

Walking into the lobby of the newly built apartments, Rose looked around; it seemed nice enough. And as she had been here long enough that she figured it best to find a new residence. Moving up to the counter, she pulled out the appropriate amount of gold that she had seen on the sign. Laying it out she spoke to the woman behind the desk, "The room doesn't matter, so long as it's clean."

With a smile and a nod, the woman handed her a room key. "Room 70. Thank you for your patronage!" Giving the woman a polite smile, she took hold of the key and, picking up her bags, headed for her new residence.

Autumn 12, Year 6
12:00pm

As Alice entered the lobby of the apartment complex she looked around, and to her delight she didn't see anyone around. This place looks empty... perfect. All she wanted was a quiet place to settle down for a while. She walked over to the counter.

"I would like a first room apartment," she spoke softly. "Here is 1500g for the season..."

She handed over the money, and received a key for room #078. She quickly turned to find her new apartment.

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<br>Dark Engel walked into the lobby of Bluebird Gateway apartments, he had heard of the newly built apartments and decided to rent one out. He just needed the cheapest, simplest one they had for he did not need that much room.
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Striding up to the counter, he used his smiled and glanced over the young woman at the counter with his mysterious dark purple eyes. While brushing some of his dark purple hair out of his face with a long finger, he spoke.
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“I would like a simply room, the cheapest you have. I have the money with me to pay you upfront, if you would gladly tell me the price,” he told her with his smooth voice as he grabbed a black wallet from his pants pocket. He opened it and listened to the price of the room and her asking him if he cared what number room he got—apparently some people did care.
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“No, I really don’t care although I don’t want to be next to nosy or noisy neighbors if you please,” Dark told her as he pulled out 1500G, the amount of a room he would have to pay for seasonally. He had a job now, how ironic it was, was beside the point, so he was able to afford a nice room, but didn’t want one.
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Dark handed her the 1500G in exchange for his new apartment key—074 was what it read on the somewhat bulky keychain that was attached to the object that would allow him inside “his” new simple abode.
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“Thank you much, beautiful,” Dark waved over his shoulder as he walked off to find his new apartment. Now he’d have to get furniture.
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Asa smiled brilliantly. I'm wicked excited about this place. It was a wonderful, big apartment building. A little more than she wanted to spend, but at least it was something that had a kitchen. The rooms would be perfect for this baker.

Asa walked over to the counter and looked over the room numbers. She'd only need a single.

"Uhm, room 079 please. If it's still open that is."

She gathered the room key happily. The start over her new life... Asa proceeded to find her room and move in.

Autumn 3, Year 6
10:00 am

Her bags held tightly to her chest and under her arms, Melody shuffled up to the counter. Smiling lightly she asked in a quiet voice, "I...I would like an apartment please." The woman smiled up at her, "Of course. How amny will be staying there?"

Melody's grip on her things tightened, and she glanced to the ground, her jaw clenching. "....just....just one." Noticing her strange reaction, the woman merely nodded and quickly assigned her a room; #070. Smiling warmly, she handing Melody the key as money was exchanged. "I hope it meets your needs." Melody nodded, forcing a small smile. "...so do I." And silently, she made her way to her new home.

Autumn 10, Noon

"Room number 080 please, on the second floor."

"Two rooms?" Jake asked his sister, hoping that they could have shared a room like they used to. It was cheaper, and they wouldn't be in such a rush to find a job.

"Oh please, we're in our twenties!" April turned to her brother. "We each need our separate space! What if you get a girlfriend?"

He blushed a little, but tried to hide it. They didn't speak anymore, and grabbed the key from the staff working there. April gave them a nice smile before dashing off to claim their new room. It would be great living in a new place, and sharing an apartment together.

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<br> Soleil Luna Oriana

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<br>Click. Click. Click. The sound of heels entered the Bluebird Gateway lobby. The heels, black to be exact, belonged to a lovely young woman of twenty-one named Soleil Luna Oriana. On this chilled winter’s day, Soleil was on the hunt for a new home. Last season, she stayed at the Jasper Inn, but refused to stay another season even if it was pleasant, she just needed a home of her own.
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Soleil walked up to the lobby, flipped her pale blond hair behind her shoulder as she placed her purse on the desk. There was that somewhat annoying zip of the zipper as she opened it and pulled out her wallet. “Excuse me; I would like to rent a room. Personally, I would like to get a two bedroom apartment. I believe they cost 2500G, non?”
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While she hadn’t been getting the best of money from her business, something that was really concerning her, something she was prepared to close down shop for a while and find another job, she had enough for such a room.
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With her delicately manicured hand, she gave the secretary, receptionist, or whatever exactly she was, the money and got a room key in the process. Glancing at the key that she would “own” in a sense until she decided to move or got kicked out, she noticed it was room eighty-one. “Merci.” She told the woman before heading off to find her apartment.
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Kat bounded into the lobby, out of breath, cheeks flushed with the early cold of winter. She had wanted to arrive early, to beat Demetrius to the complex just to mock him when he arrived. However, when she spotted the tall figure lounging by one of the icy windows, she scowled and crossed her arms. Why does he always have to be first? she thought, pouting her lip in silence while she stared at him, eyes fixated on the wintery scene outside.
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Without a word, Katania lugged her suitcase (unpacked already several times since her original arrival) up to the main desk and was smiled at by the waiting receptionist. Demetrius looked over his shoulder at the noise and wasn't surprised by the fact that Kat had arrived just then. Checking his watch his grinned to himself, Always trying to be early, yet consistently late. Demetrius had a way of arriving to things earlier than anyone else without trying, and it seldomly occurred that he was ever late. Strolling over to tower beside Kat, he glowered smiled sarcastically down on her (he must have been in a good mood) and mumbled something to her about cutting it close.
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Kat swore under her breath at him, glaring up into his bespectacled eyes. Turning away, both spoke to the girl behind the counter, requesting an apartment to share. With wide eyes full of worry and surprise, the girl hesitated.
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Already irritated, Katania snapped at her. "Look, just give us the keys, would you?" Traumatized by the flare from Kat, the girl flinched further until Demetrius leaned in and gave a warm smile. "S'il vous plaît." Needless to say, both were quickly handed identical keys to a second floor apartment, number 83, as the etching said. Nimbly, Kat ran up the staircase off the lobby with Demetrius slowly in tow after both signed their names on the lease. The pair had paid the up-front 1250G each, both prepared for the transaction thanks to their previous meeting.
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And so, the pair made it home sweet home at last. Whether it was a sour-sweetness or not was beside the point.
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Sighing in relief as he stumbles through the front door, Will quickly shakes the snow from his hair in a rather lame attempt at shaking off the cold...well, at least he isn't hungry anymore, he figures. Looking about the lobby, the man quickly notices the receptionist's desk. Lugging his suitcase and guitar over, Will is stopped in his little task by a simple sentence.

"Well, it certainly took you long enough, Willy."

Pivoting around, Will's expression brightens as he notices the girl sitting on a couch next to the entrance. Dark brown hair tied up in a ponytail on the right side of her head, Jill lets out a yawn and kicks herself up off the couch. Arms extended in a hug, Will follows his sister's example and extends his own. Unfortunately for the older Fortune, Jill's hug isn't exactly what one woudl describe as gentle...bone crushing would be better, really.

"What the hell gives!? I told you I could afford my own ticket, didn't I? But no, you have to go and be a moron and sell your electric guitar!"

"I was trying to look out for you...!" Will manages to wheeze out with what little oxygen remains in his lungs.

"That's cute, that's sweet, and I love you for it...but I can take care of myself. Especially something so simple! I actually had to spend more to get your guitar back than what the ferry ticket would have cost me, you dummy!"

Mercifully for Will, the manager decides that an impromptu fight in the middle of the lobby probably won't do too much good for his business and therefore makes his way over to the siblings. At the sound of the man clearing his throat, Jill releases her not-so-loving-at-the-moment hug and whistles nonchalantly.

"It really is none of my business, but I would appreciate it if you would kindly keep your lover's quarrel private."

At the mention of 'lover's quarrel,' both of the siblings take a couple of steps back from each other, staring blankly for a few moments before both break out into a laugh. Shaking her head in disbelief as she continues her laughter, Jill manages to pat the manager on the back.

"Oh, that was a good one! You're a funny guy! Me and him...?"

Noticing the manager's glare locked at her, Jill clears her throat and tries to put a serious look on her face. 'tries to' being the key words as the girl is trying her hardest to stiffle chuckles. Will, shaking his head at his sister, turns to the manager, hoping that their little display isn't going to quite literally leave them out in the cold.

"Um, yeah! So can we get an apartment then? We'll behave, I promise!"

"You'd better. I really don't want to have to deal with any headaches..."

Grumbling to himself as he makes his way to the desk, the manager fumbles about in the drawers and pulls out a couple of papers.

"Names?"

"Will and Jillian Fortune, sir." Will replies, Jill sticking her tongue out at Will over using her full name.

"OK, Mr. and Mrs. Fortune, how big of an apartment are you looking for?"

"Two bedroom...and we're not married."

"We're brother and sister..." Jill shouts, lowering her tone and sugar coating her voice as she notices Will glaring at her. "...sir."

"Oh, my apologies." The manager replies, the tone in his voice making it fairly clear that he not only doesn't apologize but doesn't really care either. "Well, how does Apartment 082 sound? It's practically a steal at 2500."

"Works for me." Will nods his head as he puts down his half of the rent, Jill following suit. After signing the papers, the duo recieve their keys and make their way towards their newfound home.

Amber Damant waltzed into the Bluebird Gateway apartment building, carefree and blissful with her new friend Brie walking next to her. Something about being outside in winter just made her feel like she was high all the time, but it felt marvellous nonetheless to step inside to the comfort of artificial heating. She held the door open for Brie and then gave the lobby a good look over. It seemed warm and inviting, always a good sign when you were thinking of living there.

"What do you think?" she asked Brie, smiling lightly.

"I think it's great. Finally I have a place to warm up, I have nothing for Winter!" Briena Klassen chuckled as she walked over to the counter.

'Can we have room #085, please?" She said in a gentle voice. Brie slid 2,500 g across the counter and over to the receptionist. She turned her head over to Amber, "I'll pay for this season's rent, 'kay?" She smiled at Amber reassuring that she didn't mind.

(OOC: I had to edit 'cuz the list said #082 was vacant, but it wasn't... :P)

[ OoC: Ahaha, nice. :P Oh man I'm so sorry I haven't replied in so long; I was out of town for a couple days, and then school just attacked me, and it's been nuts. I is back though. :) ]

Surprised at the sum Brie slid across the counter, Amber thought for a moment that her friend had made a mistake- read the numbers wrong, perhaps. But she assured her that she would pay the season's rent. The brunette woman smiled brightly, nodding just a little hesitantly, "As long as that's alright with you," she said, "And I'll get the next season." They were like a team now.

Pleased to have a real home, Amber grinned, saying to Brie, "Well, shall we check it out?"

[ OoC: And do you want to make the room topic or should I? ]

(OOC: Would you mind making it, please? ^-^ I suc at that kind of stuff.... LOL)

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“Stay here,” David warned, his gaze narrowing on him for a moment, obviously questioning whether or not he had enough sense to listen. In return, he smiled, arching both his brows high on his forehead. Bren watched as David’s face flushed with red, but either way he quickly turned around and stormed his way over to the counter, promptly greeting one of the young women behind it.
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His smile fading, and his eyes dulling, Bren turned away and plopped down on one of the couches, kicking his feet up onto the glass coffee table sporting a half dozen magazines in perfectly aligned stacks. Reaching his arms up, he folded them underneath his head and slowly glanced up at the ceiling noting, along the way, the painting of blue birds on the interior walls.
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How boring.

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Soccer practice had been, unfortunately, canceled today. Which pissed Nick right the hell off. Was looking forward to it too... Sighing as he opened the doors to Bluebird Gateway, Nick idly bounced the soccer ball against his foot, and then his knee, before he caught it and rested it underneath his arm. He scanned the lobby area, taking note of some business looking guy -- probably a new tenant. Nick paused and looked a bit surprised when he saw Bren a little ways away, sitting on one of the couches.
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A feeling of guilt hit Nick's chest; he'd heard about what happened to Bren's grandmother. He wouldn't of been surprised if the whole village had heard of it by this point; news of a death traveled quickly in a small community like Obsidian. Sure, Nick didn't like Bren all that much, but he wasn't so much of an ass to actually still be mean to him after he'd lost a family member. For that, Nick was kinda proud of himself.
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Hesitantly, he made his way over to the couch and stopped just a few inches away from it. His eyebrow rose slightly when he noticed the expression on Bren's face; he hadn't been able to see it from where he'd been standing last. Yeesh... "Well, don't you look like crap." Nick mumbled and tried to smile jokingly, though it didn't work out too well. He coughed a bit and continued before Bren could remark. "Uh, look Bud, I heard about your grandma. Sorry man, that really sucks..."</td>
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And, it had been so peaceful, too, Bren thought sarcastically as a dark shadow fell over him. His frown forming into somewhat of a scowl, he lowered his head to stare at the kid before him. How annoying. The last thing he needed at the moment was some moron deciding to spare him some sympathies.
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Suddenly smiling, he unfolded his arms from beneath his head and, instead, stretched them out along the back of the couch, then kicked one leg over the other, placing them neatly in the middle of the oh-so-perfect stack of magazines.
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Looking, quite frankly, pleasantly annoyed, Bren arched an eyebrow and asked; “And you are…?”

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Dude. Not cool. Jeeze, not only was Bren in deep grieving mode, he'd also managed to somehow become real stupid; which, actually, wasn't that surprising to Nick. Sighing heavily, he couldn't help but grin while pointing at himself. "I'm Nick; the kid you met while over at Josh's. Geeze dude, you're worse off than I thought, huh?" Nick trailed off slightly, a thoughtful look crossing his face. His grin suddenly widening, he leaned in closer and spoke so only Bren could hear him.
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"Y'know, maybe you need something to help you relax. I'm going for a little drink later today - you could join if you wanted to. Looks like you could use something to unwind with, hm?" Nick paused and glanced back toward the business guy before looking back over at Bren. Was that old looking guy his dad? Hm, maybe? Well, Nick didn't really feel like asking; besides, it wasn't any of his business. No point in prying into the life of some guy who was definitely not in the emotional state to be sharing family stories.</td>
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He didn’t really care what he was saying. Bren stared, with quite the bored expression, at the kid who had just introduced himself as “Nick”, the rest of his babbling nonsense seemed to go in one ear and right out the other. The thought that he wasn’t listening amused him, and he was suddenly grinning rather friendly at this “Nick”.
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“Is that so?” He mocked, arching his brows and feigning interest. “Well,” Lifting his arms, he shrugged his shoulders. “Why not?”

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At Bren's response, Nick scoffed but was still smiling. "Cocky bastard..." He murmured, though the response had seemed to intrigue and amuse Nick more than annoy or anger him. "Heh. Alright then; meet me at the beach around 11:20PM. I'll make sure to bring enough for both of us; just don't leave me waiting all night out there." Stepping away from Bren, Nick nodded to him before turning and beginning to walk toward the stairwell.
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Hm, I might've pegged this kid all wrong. Sure, he was an ass to Josh and I'll probably never forgive him for that but... he seems alright. A small grin etched itself across Nick's face. It'd been a while since he had someone to drink with -- all his old drinking buddies had either quit or moved on him; the jackasses. This Bren kid might actually be a pretty cool dude to hang with, so long as he didn't try to pull one on Nick and bring the cops with him. The thought caused Nick's smile to fade.</td>
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David stepped up beside him, frowning as he watched the kid make his way toward the stairs. “A friend of yours?” He asked, turning back to him.
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Giving David a smile that only added more mystery to that question, Bren kicked his feet down and picked himself up off the couch. “No,” He answered, simply, and then motioned for David to lead the way.
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It was quite obvious to Bren that David, oh, poor David, wanted very much to say something to him. To argue, perhaps, or pry further into what was going on. But, instead, he clenched his jaw tight, looked about ready to explode, and walked toward the stairs.
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“I am blessed to have a father so caring,” Bren laughed after his father, mocking him.
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“I think your damn well in need of delinquent school!” David shouted back at him, slamming his briefcase into the railing as he grabbed at it and stormed his way up the stairs.

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Spring 1st⁰⁷

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Kat tapered down the staircase into the lobby with grandeur, stretching her fists to the ceiling and yawning audibly. Still in her pajama bottoms from the night she had just weathered and a thick t-shirt, she wasn't looking her best, but it wasn't as if she cared. Ruffling the hair out of her yellow eyes, Kat sauntered up to the counter and yanked an envelope from the front of her pants, one corner crumpled.
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Barely looking up at the clerk, she slid the envelope across the desk towards the person (boy or girl, she never looked) and yawned again. "Joint payment for Katania Linnéa and Demetrius Manon, 2500 G. Kay-thanks," she mumbled, then turned away to meander back upstairs. Over her shoulder, she could be heard saying something to the effect of "See you next season, or whatever."
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As she climbed the stairs with lethargy, Kat thought to herself, What am I, Demetrius's errand girl now, taking the money from his wallet to pay for the room just because he's out tinkering with his old junk? Feh. The girl continued to grumble to herself as she made her way back to the second floor room, ready to hit the sack once more, her job done for the day.
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Spring 20, Year 7
11:00 am

Walking into the apartment complex, Julian, hefted his bags higher on his shoulder; certainly didn't want to drop anything. Alright...now focus. Heading towards the counter, he smiled at the woman working there, tapping his throat. For a moment, she just stared at him blankly. But when he started to slowly sign, a light bulb went off.

"Oh! Yes, sir." Returning his smile, she also began to sign back, much to Julian's excitement. Lucky break! In a short amount of time, he was able to secure the room his parents had already paid for him. Taking the key, he signed Thank you! and headed up.

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Suki glared at the people who passed by. Though she was practically emotionless, it was obvious that she didn't approve of such a place to stay in. "Sorry Suki, this is only gonna be temporary though. Okay?" Junior patted the top of her head. Suki let out a small sigh before walking over to the counter, "Room #89 please..." The woman stared for a moment, Suki slid 2,500g across the counter. The woman nodded her head before handing the two siblings the key. Suki simply walked off without saying a word. Junior nodded his head politely at the woman and gave her a flirtatious wink.[/align]</div>

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All right, so perhaps it was a little late, but that didn't give the man behind the counter an excuse to glare at him so steadily. Aiden stared back as well, though not with a glare. He was merely patiently waiting for the man to speak to him. When it finally came, a gruff "How may I help you, sir?" Aiden was very quick to oblige.

"I need an apartment."

The owner of the establishment, he assumed, stared at him steadily for a few moments before he pulled out some paperwork and busily began filling it out. Aiden responded in all of the proper places, initialing here and signing here, before the man slid a key across the counter top to him within a tiny brown envelope. Room 078, it said across the envelope in bold, black marker. Aiden picked it up, nodded to the man silently, and grabbed his single suitcase as he went toward the stairs to find his room. What a cheerful place.

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The teenager approached the apartments rather uneasily, her eyes glued to the floor. It was particularly hard to go out today without her usual eyepatch. She had run out of the usual supplies at home, and she had yet to get some more, so the rare sight of her heterochromia was on display. But, Lee figured that if she kept her eyes down she would be fine for now. Besides, it was quite early and no one was really around, so... surely even she could handle her short errand even without her eye covering.
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But! In the grand scheme of things, that was the least of her worries. Her eyes shifted to the parcel gripped tightly in her hands. It was a plain box wrapped with string. Inside she had carefully cleaned and folded the coat that the man, Aiden Morse, had lent her yesterday. She had been absolutely meticulous, making sure there were no creases or stains or anything. Inside the box, sitting on top of his coat, was a smooth, palm-sized wood carving of a dragon, curled up and sleeping peacefully but with its sharp claws at ready. She had to plough through the task in only a few hours, so it wasn't her most intricate or skillful piece of work. But the little details she had been able to do - the eyes, the claws, some of the scales - were done so with care and attention. But in retrospect she wasn't quite sure what possessed her to whip this up on such a whim. What if he didn't even want a useless little paperweight? Frowning, Lee touched the envelope secured on the box. In her neat, semi-cursive writing it read in large letters, 'Aiden Morse'. Actually, she was most worried about her note. She had spent so much time mulling over it last night that she even still remembered how it went:

Dear Mr. Morse,
<br><br>I write this as Lee Sinclaire, not my dummy Skylar. But even if I was, my sentiments would still be the same. I'm very grateful for your generosity, and you certainly saved me from a cold by lending me your coat. So, once again, thank you very much. It's not much, and it's not very good, but I carved something to express my gratitude.
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Did you know that the origins of the word 'dragon' means, 'to see clearly'? Dragons are also depicted in many different ways in many different cultures. Generally people see them as frightful creatures, things to be feared or slain. However, in Chinese legends they are gentle and wise. I suppose this is the impression I had of you yesterday.
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I thought over what you said to me before we parted, and I think I understand what you were trying to say. In many ways, Skylar is my coat. Though, you already picked that up, didn't you? However, one thing you may not know is that... honestly? I am not ready to give her up. I'm not nearly as strong or as wise as you are - not even close. But... I suppose, the only thing for me to do is to work hard until I am. And so, that's what I'll do. With a bit of time, I really hope I will be able to one day say the words you said to me.
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It is more for this, I realize, that I thank you. Yesterday you gave me warmth in more than one way. While I still have my doubts, I also have motivation, and I also hope that one day, I'll be able to speak to you again not as Skylar but as myself,
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Lee

... Or something like that. Anyway, even if it was awful, there wasn't much she could do now, was there? Besides, Lee figured that she would've surely felt this away no matter what she wrote.
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Then, within a few minutes, the girl's short walk to the apartments was then complete. She walked up uneasily to the front desk, her eyes darting about. A man with glasses and red hair pulled into a ponytail sat there with a cup of steaming coffee, looking as though he was steaming with anger himself. Lee paused at the desk, gulping audibly as the man's sharp, irritated gaze fell on her. "Can I help you?" he grumbled, obviously not too happy about something.
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Bearing only her parcel, she didn't have her trusty Skylar, not even one of the bags she carried her in. If she wanted to work hard at gaining strength, she figured a good place to start would be at least trying to abandon her dummy. And so Lee opened her mouth to speak, to talk directly to a stranger for once. But instead she only made silence, her face going bright red. Abandon ship, abandon ship! Turning her visage to the floor, she hastily gave the man the box she had been holding. Mr. Morse's name was quite visible and hard to miss, so surely no words needed to be exchanged. And even if they did, she was definitely not ready to stick around and do so. Not with this man, not with his gaze. It seemed she couldn't even stand there in the line of his glare's fire, for she quickly skittered out of the apartments as soon as the worker had taken her delivery.
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Th-there! Mission complete... at least.
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The strange's man hand held open the door, him walking into the lobby. Immediately catching the eyes of everyone there he spoke nothing, calmly making his way to the counter. Soon following him was a red headed woman and a very large...man. The masked man placed his hands upon the counter and looked at the staff behind it. The red goggles stared at them, piercing into them as the man's cold voice began to spoke.

"Apartment 95, total rental time unknown. Payment will not be a problem." He spoke, from his pocket coming a small bag of money. He placed it down on the counter and opened it to reveal the eight thousand, five hundred g for the current season. That much money...all at one...surely gained attention but who of the staff would ask questions? A lot of scenarios could rise from this: the man stole it, was rich, worked for it, etc. But truthfully who would question a man who looked purely psychopathic?

The two following him said nothing, standing by. The main one kept track of their money apparently. Or these two didn't habe jobs yet. Or both truthfully. The masked man watched as the staff member got up and got the key for him, handing it to him. The man only nodded as he turned, leading the way to their current residence for now.

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<br>Isaac Jones
<br>
<br>Summer 11, 08
<br>10:35 pm
<br>Mood: Tired

<br><br>
<br>’Bluebird Gateway? This must be the place.’ Isaac thought as he stood outside the building. He had been told that there was an inn somewhere in town and after searching around for a bit he was finally able to find it. He didn’t need much. In fact he shouldn’t be here any longer than a season or two then it would time to move on again. What he had seen on the island since getting off the ferry wasn’t bad but Isaac knew that it wasn’t the place for him. Just another stop on the road, a place to get away from all the hassles of the city, all the people, all the cars, all the…well it was best not to think on such things this late at night. Things usually didn’t go well for him if he started to think about everything that happened.
<br>
<br>Shouldering his duffle bag full of clothes and his old guitar he pushed open the door to the inn and walked inside. Looking around he could tell that it was a fairly well off place. It seemed large enough to have several rooms which was pretty impressive for an island of this size. He hadn’t expected to find too much here when he first got on the ferry but after he had arrived on the docks he saw that the town of Obsidian and the rest of the island were doing quite well for themselves. Everything seemed to be thriving.
<br>
<br>Isaac walked up to the counter and rang the tiny bell for service. He knew he was coming in a little late but he needed a place to stay and since he was planning on being here longer than a few days he might as well go in for the long haul and rent out a room for the coming weeks so long as his cash held out that was. Speaking of cash he needed some more of it. He had heard there was some work here on the island but he was going to have to find out who was hiring. Maybe he could work up a little extra spending money before heading out.
<br>
<br>“Howdy.” He said as he finally noticed someone behind the front desk. His southern accent was only slightly evident. He never thought he had much of one anyways. “I need a room. Doesn’t matter which one just the cheapest you’ve got.” Looking around he noticed some keys with numbers above them hanging against the wall. “In fact number 80.” He said pointing to the key. “That one will be fine.”



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It was amazing how sleeping in could only serve to make you more tired, a fact that Helena was pondering as she was making her morning tea at half past noon. She blew softly upon the tea before sipping it carefully, attempting to avoid any tongue-scalding. Yes, having the morning off had in some ways done her a world of good, and in others made her a lazy sod. A list of to-do was still taped to her refrigerator, the only thing having been accomplished was grocery shopping, and even that was a small victory at best. Helena still had to wash the dishes, take out the trash, walk Jack, clean the bathroom. She frowned, looking at the dishes, and then at the full trash can, and finally at the doorway to the bath room.<br><br>

"... Come on, Jack," she said, pouring the remainder of her tea down the sink. Helena patted the back of her thigh, and the old bloodhound came bounding from her room. He was getting on in years, the same spring in his step was still there, but the clumsiness that he had in puppyhood had been replaced by a slower gallop. A small smile parted her lips, as she scratched the back of his ears. She snatched a leash from its designated hook by the door, stuffing some plastic bags in her purse on her way out the door. The lovely thing about spending the morning sleeping was that she never quite knew what to expect the weather to be like. The wind flapped her dress around her knees, the last of Summer was on its way out, yet Helena didn't feel too naked in her summer dress.<br><br>

Jack seemed to enjoy it, standing upon his hind legs and gazing out over the railing, tongue lolling out. Seeing him working and playing, Helena had a hard time believing he was the same dog. He was so capable of switching between serious and playful, and for that she envied him some. She sighed quietly, smiling to herself as she locked the door. Or tried to, the key fit smoothly into the door and then refused to budge. It did this a lot, sometimes taking upwards of five minutes to lock her front door. With another, much more irritated sigh, Helena jiggled the key, but to no avail. She swore that one day it would just snap altogether. The young woman scowled at the brass-coloured key, attempting to turn it with more gusto each time, until it finally locked, but apparently there was a price. Crack! And it broke in two.<br><br>

She had been joking about the key breaking, Helena hadn't even been aware keys could do that. God seemed content to prove her wrong.<br><br>

She held the end in the palm of her hand, blinking at it in confusion, then looked back at the door. Please don't say... Helena reached out, pressed down upon the handle. Locked. Of course. She thought about forcing the door, knowing she kept the windows locked so she could sleep easy at night, but would that result in a fine? The last thing she wanted was one of the neighbours to get nervous, think she was breaking in, and calling her co-workers on her. Embarrassing and pointless at that. She let out yet another sigh, raking her hand back through her hair. The front desk, weren't they open around this time? Perhaps they could do something, though it felt... well, Helena wasn't used to asking for help. Especially not from a stranger, having never been down there much at all since she had moved to Obsidian. Taryn had been moved in a week when Helena had come, there had been no need to.<br><br>

With a small grumble, she relented and walked down the steps, Jack at her heels. He seemed to think he was still getting that walk, but at this rate it could be a while.<br><br>

"Stay," she said calmly, commanding him to sit before the entrance to the front area. Helena wasn't quite sure what was down here, to be honest. It was simply a nondescript... front desk. And an empty one at that. She reasoned that whoever was there could simply be at lunch, and be back in a moment. Nothing to do but wait,, she thought, approaching the counter and leaning upon it. Helena drummed her fingers against the wood, a quiet pphht escaped her lips.<br><br>

This was why she didn't sleep in, things like this didn't happen at eight o' clock in the morning.


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Ronan hummed happily as he lolled around in the room back behind the counter, where the manager was kind enough to include a small kitchen and break room for individuals to warm up their food for their lunch break or some such thing. It was close enough to the front desk where they could hear the little bell, reminiscent of an old-timey hotel, being rung, or even hear the footsteps of someone approaching if they were quiet enough. At the time, however, Ronan saw no reason to be quiet. No one stopped in here during the lunch hour, after all. He pulled out his Oodles o' Noodles from the microwave with a satisfied sigh and grabbed a nearby plastic spoon, stirring it up as best as he could. God, it didn't matter that this was all the Brennans could afford right now. It was a hell of a lot better than not eating at all, and Ronan personally found it quite delicious in his own way. He lifted that first spoonful of noodles and peas and corn and carrots to his lips and slurped loudly and generously, immediately feeling like he could riverdance.<br>
<br>
He grabbed his bottle of water and made his way out toward the front desk, aware of the fact that Derrick would probably murder him if he abandoned his post longer than the three-and-a-half minutes that the soup took to cook, and continued his humming as he tilted the cup near his lips to suck up a bit of the salty broth.<br>
<br>
And then nearly spit it out when he came around the corner.<br>
<br>
BREASTS! She has 'em an' I've seen 'em! He froze and ducked behind the corner again, hoping she hadn't seen him. Helena. That was her name. Right. He thudded his head back against the wall very quietly, staring up at the ceiling. Oh yes. He definitely remembered. Ronan shifted a little uncomfortable, remembering the few dreams he'd had after that night a couple of weeks back. Patrick equally teased him about it and smacked him upside the head, but both of them knew they didn't mean anything. Just a problem of seeing a naked woman directly in front of him. No problem at all. Patrick was blissfully unaware of such things, mostly because he was a f**king machine, a fighter where Ronan was a lover, but - no, actually, best to stop that train of thought right now before he started envisioning her body again and - D*MN IT, RONAN. One more thud of his head back against the wall, just to shake some sense into him, and he popped around the corner, grinning widely.<bR>
<br>
"G'afternoon there, lass! Nice ta see ye. Can I help ye?" He plopped down in the chair behind the corner, setting his Oodles o' Noodles and bottle of water aside before he crossed his arms over his chest and leaned back lightly in his chair. Eyes on her eyes. Eyes on her eyes. Yeah, there we go. Much easier that way.


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In retrospect, Helena probably should have waited for a time before coming down to the main office. She was guaranteed to have caught the worker on his lunch break, and judging by the low humming of a cheap microwave, she had. Her hand hovered over the little round bell on the desk; the tips of her fingers brushed very briefly against it before she drew them back, folding her arms over one another and propping them up on the counter. She could wait. There wasn't any rush, her work didn't start until the evening, and Taryn was on-call until the wee hours of the morning, so she didn't have to worry about her roommate coming back any time soon.. One of the sacrifices of being a nurse, she supposed. Helena drummed her fingers against the counter, listening to the sound of the air conditioner blasting above her and several loud slurps from the adjacent room. "Hmph," she laughed quietly, an amused smile quirked her lips. It sounded like they were trying to slurp up the whole of the Atlantic in there.<br><br>

The slurping stopped abruptly, replaced by a humming that seemed to be drawing nearer. Helena's eyes widened and she immediately straightened, trying to look as if she had only just arrived. She looked to the side, long torso leaning ever-so-slightly over the counter, hand brushing back several strands of brown hair before pressing down upon the desk, all this in the name of pretending to be looking for something-- or rather someone. The façade complete, she awaited the worker patiently.<br><br>

Thunk.<br><br>

Well, that was certainly odd. Were they tenderising meat now?<br><br>

Thunk.<br><br>

As tempted as the young woman was to look, she kept her gaze trained on a painting in the corner of the room, only looking away when she heard someone approach. Oh... A number of thoughts and feelings swelled in Helena at once, as she struggled to retain her dignity. It was him. Ronan, Mister Brennan, oh whatever you wanted to call him. Helena was happy to say she had forgotten the incident almost entirely, until this moment. A few days after the event, she had experienced a dream or two, all of which she had successfully repressed. Again, until this moment.<br><br>

Remember, Helena: there can be no defence like elaborate courtesy. No good would come from her dismissing him or what had you. If anything it would only aggravate the situation. Simply don't think of-- well, you know what. Why was it that she sounded like a schoolgirl in her head? Helena matched his smile with one of her own, elbows rested upon the counter, one hand nervously pulling at her hair. "Good afternoon, Mister Brennan," she said, locking gazes with him. She couldn't possibly be the only one feeling somewhat awkward here, could she? "I didn't realise you worked here."<br><br>

So much for being a high-ranked police officer, when she didn't notice something quite as obvious as that.<br><br>

She cleared her throat, and smiled. "Em, yes, actually. The key to my apartment has snapped in two, and I can't... I can't get in." This situation suddenly became a lot more difficult than it needed to be, but nevertheless Helena dipped her hand into her purse and retrieved the top half of the key. "I wasn't sure if you could help me." She had this feeling that she was forgetting something, but it was hard to think at the moment. She was surprised she still remembered her name.

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<br><br>
Outfit: Black t-shirt, blue jeans, and black tennis shoes.<br>
Mood: Embarrassed.<br>
TAG: Helena.

<br>
<br>
<br>
Didn't realise he worked here. Well. Good. He had a feeling that if she did, she wouldn't be coming near the front counter at all if she can help it. Perhaps she'd send a friend or a boyfriend or something, someone that Ronan hadn't seen naked. That seemed wholly preferable to the nearly palpable amount of embarrassment that he could feel surrounding the both of them. Then again, he could be crazy. He wouldn't be surprised if it was merely lingering around him instead. There was definitely a strong temptation to duck under the counter here and pretend they hadn't seen each other so that he could see if she'd merely go on her own way. Eyes on her face, eyes on her face, don'tthinkaboutanythin'elseferChrist's<br>
f**kin'sake! That wasn't working as well as it should be, as his eyes bounced around a bit nervously, from her face to her shoulder to his ramen and back to her face again. Well. Better than staring at the twins, right?<br>
<br>
He cleared his throat, wearing a nervous smile as he slid the ramen cup to the side and shrugged a bit. "Aye. Been workin' here about a season o' two, I'd say? Me an' Patrick both." As much as he tried to avoid it, he merely let himself carelessly ramble onward, trying to find some way to turn to conversation to things other than the fact that he'd seen her NAKED, Christ, and that though it'd been a couple of weeks back he still remembered it quite vividly. "He works here the latter half o' the week, an' I got the beginnin'. Not the best pay, but eh, it works out, y'know? Enough ta rent an apartment an' a roommate helps too, I guess." He finally bit his tongue and paused again, reaching up to rub the back of his neck rather sheepishly as he finally forced his eyes to watch her own.<br>
<br>
Key to her apartment snapped? His eyes widened appreciatively as he let out a long, drawn-out whistle. "F**k, lass, what'd ye do, fence with it?" But there it was, as plain as it could be. He chuckled and shook his head, reaching out to pluck the top of the key from her hands without invitation and examining it carefully. "Well, would ye look a' that?" He twirled it between his rough fingers a few times, looking for signs of either shoddy craftsmanship or the fact that she was a herculean figure under those clothes of hers. An unbidden mental image flashed in front of his mind's eye reminding him that the second was most definitely incorrect, and though he wasn't any expert in looking for properly created keys or anything like that, this one didn't look...particularly well-made. Huh.<br>
<br>
He thought back, trying to remember where Derrick suggested that they get their keys from, and remembered something called the Tiger's Eye Carpentry and Forge. The name Junior came to mind as well. Well. No wonder this key's broken, then, if it was made by a f**kin' baby. He shook his head and looked up at her, grinning rather apologetically. "Me apologies, lass. We've got a spare fer each door hidden somewhere in the back. Lemme take a quick peek." Ronan heaved himself to his feet and slipped into the break room again, immediately letting out a long sigh when he was hidden away in there.<br>
<br>
Well. If there was anything that he knew, it was that he was never going to a hot springs ever again.<br>
<br>
"All right, let's see here," he murmured, squinting slightly as he peeked down and read the numbers on the top of the key, quickly deciphering them to figure out that she was in room 088. The fact that she lived just down the hall from him didn't escape him, though he dispelled the thought with a quick shake of his head. No more of that. He merely ran his fingers along the keys dangling from the wall in the back of the break room, wondering absently as he often did why they made it so easy for potential criminals to sneak in here and start burglarizing apartments. To be fair, he hadn't heard tell of a single thief since he'd been here, and good riddance to them too. He plucked the replacement for 088 that he saw with a satisfied grin, keeping the top of the other key in his pocket for reference. If the blacksmith was a capable one, which Ronan was starting to doubt from the mere appearance of the shattered key itself, then he should keep the records for each key in Obsidian so that he wouldn't need a current key to inform him of what he had to create.<br>
<br>
Christ, that sounded convoluted.<br>
<br>
He popped up behind the counter and held the key out for her, clearing his throat again. "There ye are, lass. Is that all ye were needin'?" he asked, forcing himself to meet her eyes even though he felt a trace of nervousness in the pit of his belly as he did so. Before she could answer, he looked to the side with a small sigh and leaned forward on the counter, resting his forearms and his chest against it to maintain a semblance of privacy between the two of them lest someone appear. "Look, lass, I...I never really got the chance ta apologize fer...well..."

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<br>
Autumn 2nd, Year 08<br>
around 12:30 p.m.<br>
outfit

<br><br>

Helena couldn’t decide between looking at his eyes or at the desk between them. The desk seemed a much more pleasant option, it being rather plain and not at all reminiscent of painful, awkward memories. Not yet, anyway. Not unless Mister Brennan somehow wound up naked again, a thought she immediately banished from her mind on account of being entirely improper and indecent. She forced herself to look into his eyes, reminding herself of all the other things she had done in her life, and that in comparison this was nothing. Child’s play. So why was it that she wanted to look back at her desk? Especially after she noticed how blue his eyes were. Really, if Michael or someone could see her now, they would laugh at her. The man took great pleasure in her losing her head. Yes, he practically lived for it.<br><br>

Oh, he was speaking to her. Right. Helena nodded. This is so... bizarre, she thought, biting down softly upon her lower lip. Here they were, having a reasonably normal conversation. Like they hadn’t seen parts of each other generally reserved for lovers and spouses. She couldn’t help but wonder if he knew it, too. Surely he couldn’t be that thick-headed, he was human, same as her. “Mm? I believe that’s about when I arrived here, actually...” she said off-handedly, she really was a fool not to have known the two worked here before. It wasn’t as if they blended in, two loud-mouthed Irishmen in a place like this, they stuck out like a sore thumb. She nodded again, beginning to wonder if she looked like one of those kitschy bobblehead dolls people put in their cars. At least this way she didn’t have to look at him straight, Helena always felt like she was looking a bit too closely at people, her mother always said she had this way of glowering at people. She smiled slightly, “That’s often how it goes. I have to admit, I never would have seen you as an apartment seller.” Life had a way of surprising her.<br><br>

She allowed herself a small laugh, to her own ears it sounded a wee bit strained, but at least not forced. That was something, yes? “I might has well of, would have gotten more use out of it that way.” she said, not sure if she had meant for that to be funny or not. Her sense of humour was never her strong point; jokes often fell flat on their faces when she told them. Especially if it were a rehearsed one, she could never remember the punch-line. Helena smiled sheepishly as Ronan observed the key, her head eventually bowing in embarrassment. She gathered her hair over one shoulder, thankful for the sudden quiet, even if it was brief.<br><br>

Her gaze lifted just in time to see him vanishing into the back room. Once she was sure she was alone, Helena brought her head down upon the desk, throwing her hair over the front of her head. Get a grip over yourself, Helena! she said to herself, taking in that desk she had been considering eyeing for the past few minutes. She took one long breath through her nose, and stood up straight, hands subconsciously moving to fix her hair. Helena heard a soft whine coming from outside, no doubt Jack was resigning himself to a good, long wait before his walk, the poor old boy.<br><br>

She glanced over her shoulder at the outside, leaning upon the desk with her arms and supporting her chin with her hand. ”There ye are, lass. Is that all ye were needin’?” Helena turned, meeting his eyes with another polite, albeit grateful, smile. She took the keys from his hand, and shook her head. There was still the matter of the fact that the other half of the key was still wedged in the lock, and then did she have to pay for destroying the first? Did she have to tip him? She was, after all, stealing his lunch break and that ramen was not getting and warmer. All these questions, and perhaps a few more, occurred to her and she opened her mouth to voice them. "Look, lass, I...I never really got the chance ta apologize fer...well..." <br><br>

Helena shut her mouth, cheeks becoming tinged with red. It had to come up eventually, didn’t it? It had happened, best face up to it now. “You don’t...” she began, swallowing a lump in her throat, “you don’t need to apologise for anything.” This really wasn’t the place to discuss such things, out in the open where anyone could see. Part of her wanted to find someplace a little more secluded, so no one happened to walk in and hear them. “Besides, I didn’t exactly make it easy for you to apologise, seeing how quickly I flew out of there.” Helena took a small breath, measuring her next words carefully, ”I would like to apologise for before, too. I can only hope that we don’t hold anything against each other...” She laughed weakly, eyes glancing downwards.
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<br><br>
Outfit: Black t-shirt, blue jeans, and black tennis shoes.<br>
Mood: Relieved.<br>
TAG: Helena.

<br>
<br>
<br>
The way she cut him off, her cheeks ablaze, told him that yes, there probably was something he actually needed to apologize for, actually. Otherwise, wouldn't she had let it go by now so that she wasn't blushing at all? He quirked a brow at her, watching the way she now seemed absolutely unwilling to meet his eyes. Well, he definitely knew that feeling all too well, that was for sure, but c'mon, wasn't this woman supposed to be some force to be reckoned with? Hadn't he seen her on duty as a police officer or something? What was so embarrassing about some silly Irishman seeing you naked if you had to deal with people trying to kill you all the time?<br>
<br>
...and just how much was he calling the kettle black while thinking that?<br>
<br>
God knew he'd had his life on the line enough times. The scars across his torso were a definite sign of that, as well as the fact that next to nothing could make him flinch. Except for suddenly getting an eyeful of a naked woman, perhaps. Ta be fair, it isn't like ye've seen many in yer life anyway. 'Specially not since ye an' Patrick started yer mission from God an' all that. The reasoning wasn't sound, though. God knew he'd only had two or three encounters in his life and none in the past five years or so, but c'mon, was that supposed to make him absolutely fall apart at the sight of a pair of areolas or whatever? Wasn't like there was much anyway? That doesn't ma- YES IT DID. He was a man, and he should be fine, and that was that.<br>
<br>
And yet there were those really f**king weird dreams he kept having that involved the woman in front of him being naked, which just wasn't cool, especially since Patrick seemed to be able to read his mind and know exactly what he was dreaming about and all that. Never mind that they never made sense, what with one of them involving penguins transporting her to the Arctic or whatever. It just didn't make sense, and he was pretty sure it wasn't what he should be dreaming about after seeing a naked woman, but eh, his dreams never made much sense anyway, whatever.<br>
<br>
Really, he supposed he should get off the topic before he did something stupid. "Aye, guess ye're right," he murmured at first, rubbing the back of his neck sheepishly. "Breast ta get off the to- best. Best. ...best ta get off the...f******k." His hand instead went to smacking himself on the forehead as he whined out the last word, tilting his head backward a bit to stare up at the ceiling. "...I mean ta say, ye're right, ye've got nothin' ta apologize fer, an' I guess we should just let it go." There was another moment before he snorted out a laugh, standing normally again as he rubbed his eyes lightly and murmured a soft "F**k, I'm so tired," with a soft shake of his head. Deciding it was best to get away from his slip of the tongue as fast as he could, he looked back at her finally and hoped she was missing the fact that his cheeks were slowly turning cherry red as well.<br>
<br>
"All right, lass, where's the other end o' that key? I can't let ye keep it. Regulations, y'see, an' all."

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Autumn 2nd, Year 08<br>
around 12:30 p.m.<br>
outfit

<br><br>

And now, for a magic act. Watch how quickly the no-nonsense police officer in her simply disappeared, as if it were never there at all! <br><br>

By God’s name, she had dealt with plenty of situations worse than this (though none quite so awkward). Why, back in London she had arrested murderers and rapists, probably a sociopath or two, but mostly kids too strung out on drugs and alcohol and what have you to know what they were doing. And all without a gun, too. Yet this is what got her knickers in a twist? This was the point in her life when she faltered? You ought to be ashamed of yourself, imagine what he must think of you, she thought inwardly, blushing like a schoolgirl. The other side of her fought back, insisted that she had been raised conservatively. Regardless of her past sexual encounters, Helena had been brought up to believe that certain parts of the human anatomy were only to be shared by husband and wife. Not that it had worked, exactly, but—Stop. Just stop. She would be here all day like this, and if she didn’t accept excuses from others she certainly wouldn’t accept them from herself. She was a blathering fool and she would just have to get over it and move on.<br><br>

Helena forced herself to look up at Ronan as he spoke. Really, it was probably best he brought it up. No use dancing around the issue like a couple of— "Breast ta get off the to- best. Best. ...best ta get off the...f******k." <br><br>

“..........” How was she supposed to respond to that? She blinked at him, mouth hanging open as she searched for words. Should she pretend it went over her head? No, Helena might be a fool, but she wasn’t an idiot, and she drew a very thick line between the two. If she were to look like an idiot in front of this man it would not be voluntarily, damn it. Then again, this might already think that of her. Either that or she was a big, talking pair of breasts.<br><br>

Wait, make that a small pair.<br><br>

”Perhaps we should,” she managed, bowing her head to hide the sudden smile that spread over her features. It was all kind of... funny, wasn’t it? In a vaguely horrifying sort of way. ”But, well, we couldn’t pretend it didn’t happen, could we? Keep acting like a couple of plonkers around each other.” Hopefully that didn’t go over his head, she was trying to think of something witty or charming to say, plonker wasn’t exactly it. Did the Irish have as many words for bollocks, tonkers, tools, and goolies as the English did? God, she felt ashamed that those weren’t even the extent of her knowledge on anatomical slang. At least now our cheeks are matching, she thought, shaking her head and meeting his gaze.<br><br>

Then remembering why she was here in the first place. Right. ”Emm... it’s still in the door. My door, that is,” she said, smiling a little sheepishly. ”I was actually going to just break it down myself, but didn’t want someone getting the wrong idea, and my... co-workers showing up at my front door. So...” She trailed off, mind growing clouded with thoughts of making the lives of whoever made the keys very difficult. Very difficult indeed. ”Shall I go get it, then? You're the expert in apartments, tell me what to do.”



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Outfit: Black t-shirt, blue jeans, and black tennis shoes.<br>
Mood: Embarrassed.<br>
TAG: Helena.

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<br>
<br>
If there was anything he could take a tiny bit of solace in, it was that the both of them were blushing like ninnies at the moment. He coughed out another little laugh, rubbing the back of his neck sheepishly as he looked away, his eyes falling on his noodle cup. Well, those were probably going to be getting cold by now, but he didn't really care, he noticed. At least they were getting some sort of closure about the situation, right?<br>
<br>
Well. He supposed his dreams would tell him more than anything else, of course, but for now he could be optimistic! Perhaps Patrick would finally stop being a right b*****d and teasing him mercilessly about the entire event, though Ronan still had no idea how Patrick knew exactly what went on in his head when he was dreaming. He shook his head a little before he looked up at Helena, catching that small smile of hers just before she dipped her head down presumably to hide it. If he hadn't had that awkward experience with her such a short time ago, he might have reached out and tapped her chin teasingly and ask why she was hiding such a pretty smile, that he didn't bite. And then Patrick would have mysteriously materialized behind the desk and smacked him upside the head and moved on with life, and she would have run off mortified, and life would be back to normal. But that was impossible now, wasn't it? Fer a bit longer, lad. C'mon, back ta business. Ye can't stand here accidentally makin' t*t jokes fer the rest o' the day, can ye? ...well, not without bein' fired an' arrested an' all that, a' least.<br>
<br>
"Would ye rather me keep sayin' s**t like that, then?" he asked with a grin, running a hand over his face again as if in an attempt to wipe the blush away. Didn't work, but it was a manly effort, at least. "Forgettin' isn't easy, aye, but I'm willin' ta try the best I can."<br>
<br>
When she mentioned that the key was still in her door, however, he gasped dramatically. "Aye?" He nearly jumped up in excitement, though he managed to contain himself just in time. "Oh, I can fix that!" Well. Sort of. He'd read a spiffy little suggestion the other day in one of the books he'd gotten from the library, a book basically devoted to how to do almost anything in the world. Only one thousand or so suggestions, but hey, it was helpful, and he very specifically remembered exactly what the section about removing a broken key from a lock said. "An' it'll save ye a hell o' a lot o' money from tryin' ta hire a locksmith. Hold on just a second." And then he propelled himself away from the counter, heading back into the break room and out the door that connected to the patio that Patrick and he were allowed to smoke on.<br>
<br>
He swore he remembered seeing that around somewhere...where was it? He hopped off of the patio and looked around a bit more before he saw something glittering on the ground in a pile of trash set aside for the next trash pick-up. "Ah-ha!" Why this so conveniently lay here and was completely open for the world to see and anyone to grab and make use of, he didn't know, but he wasn't complaining. It was as if some higher being placed it there just for him.<br>
<br>
...nah.<br>
<br>
He was at the desk moments later with a large, goofy grin on his face, and lifted the broken serrated coping saw blade. "Ye ready?"

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Autumn 2nd, Year 08<br>
around 12:30 p.m.<br>
outfit

<br><br>


Helena leaned upon the desk, arms crossing before her chest. This wasn’t going as awfully as she had imagined in her head. She had known it would be inevitable that she would meet one of them again, it was a small island, and God didn’t like her enough to keep her within her comfort zone, or rather he knew that she would not benefit from it. If it wasn’t here, it would be on the ferry, or at the cafe, or one of the many festivals the island hosted. At least this way they were alone, no prying ears privy to what had happened between them. Should anyone know—actually, Helena didn’t want to think about it. She quite liked her reputation as a humourless stick-in-the-mud, thank you very much, or at least preferred it to whatever thoughts would arise if that particular story got out. In a perfect world, perhaps they would never meet again, though she felt that something would always be nagging at the back of her mind. Unfinished business, and all that. Besides, other than the Freudian slip he wasn’t so bad to talk with. It was a refreshing change of pace from talking to Michael all day.<br><br>

"Would ye rather me keep sayin' s**t like that, then?" A small smile quirked her lips, one she quickly hid with her hand. When she was a girl, she used to cover parts of her face with her hands quite often, to conceal how rife with spots they were. The end of puberty had seen to the end of her skin problems, thankfully. Though apparently she hadn’t quite kicked the habit. “I suppose not, as amusing as that was,” she replied, “for your dignity’s sake, we shall drop the matter entirely. Her hand returned to the desk, smile slowly parting her lips.<br><br>

Both of her eyebrows raised, immediately curious as to why Ronan looked so beside himself about her key being lodged in one of their doors. ”Oh, you can?” said Helena, sounding mildly surprised. Was it something he had just picked up one day? She had never learned how, despite Captain Rita seeming hell-bent on them knowing deadly martial arts (something Helena would never understand, especially not when she had a gun and police baton handy), she had never given them lessons in practical things. “That would be brilliant, thank you.”<br><br>

Money was tight, she was hoping to have enough money to one day move out of her flat and into a home. That was wishful thinking, what with the prices around here. And she thought England was expensive. She hadn’t lived in a home since she was living with her parents, owning property in London was next to impossible unless you owned a business or were a member of the bloody Parliament. For now, a two bedroom flat with Taryn worked. Even if her neighbours were her boss and apparently a pirate, judging by the eye patch she saw him wearing on a daily basis. Living in London had opened her up to a whole world of strange, strange people. It would take a lot to shake this Englishwoman.<br><br>

"Ye ready?" Helena’s eyebrows raised, again. Apparently it would take an Irishman wielding half a saw, and looking ridiculously chipper about it, too. After wiping the look of complete befuddlement from her face, she laughed softly. “Where in God’s name did you get that? I... nevermind.” She was beginning to wonder if that backroom had everything, or was simply bottomless, like Mary Poppin’s purse, something like that. Realising she had been asked a question, Helena nodded. “Ah, yes.” She retreated from the counter, key clutched tightly between in her hands. Outside, she was met by the happy greeting of a wet nose on her leg.<br><br>

All this time waiting and he was still her friend, they weren’t kidding when they called dog man’s best friend.<br><br>

Holding the door open to make way for the man with the saw, Helena grinned and righted one of the dog’s ears that had flopped backwards during his wait. “Hullo, Jack,” she said, trying to keep her voice a normal pitch, what with Ronan being right there an all she didn’t want to do the baby-talk thing. Jack’s attention was momentarily distracted by the Irishman, he swung his head over and smelt him in turn. Beer and cigarettes, the latter of which was at least familiar to him. Snorting in approval, the dog sat, tail thumping against the ground. Poor fellow still thought he was getting that walk. "You've been very patient with me, but just wait a little longer, okay?"<br><br>

She looked to Ronan, smile turning a little sheepish. "Sorry about him..." she muttered.



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<br><br>
Outfit: Black t-shirt, blue jeans, and black tennis shoes.<br>
Mood: Relaxed.<br>
TAG: Helena.

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<br>
Ronan chuckled at the extremely vocal pooch, still working casually at the walk with a quirked brow. "Cheerful fellow, aye?" he said conversationally, waiting for what the book told him was the tell-tale sign of the key being snagged by the teeth. Ah, there it was, a faint jarring sensation. He paused only a moment before he drew the blade back slightly in experimentation and was rewarded by the broken part of the key emerging as well. "F**k yeah," he murmured softly, grinning broadly as he slid the broken key into his hand and tucked the sawblade into his belt against as he stood up.<br>
<br>
Where'd he learn to do it? He stared blankly back at her for a few moments, still with that cheerful smile on his face, before he cleared his throat. Well. That wasn't supposed to come up. Hadn't he taken care of that with enough authority that she wouldn't see the reason to ask or something like that? Well, f**k. He'd have to work on that. But he didn't want to lie to the woman. She was taller than him, and she had a big dog by her side. She could probably take him down with a nice firm kick to the crotch or something like that if he wasn't being careful. So it was probably best not to say that this was the first time he'd ever done that and that he learned it from skimming a book one day while taking a s**t.<br>
<br>
"...oh, ye know, ye pick up all sorts o' weird s**t when ye're an...apartment salesman." He chuckled softly, a bit hopeful that she wouldn't push for more information, before he cleared his throat softly. "In fact, I guess I should be...gettin' back down there, aye? An' ye need ta take yer pooch fer his walk." He grinned again and stepped forward, lathering Jack in more affectionate pets and rubs before he gave Helena a little salute of sorts. "Ye come see me if ye're havin' any more trouble, aye? O' Patrick. He's down there a' the middle o' the week an' all that. Have a good day, lass!" With that cheerful farewell, he set off toward the desk again, moving a bit quickly so that she wouldn't stop him and demand a further explanation.<br>
<br>
Well, f**k. At least he'd gotten out of there alive and with only one Freudian slip, aye?

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<br>
Autumn 2nd, Year 08<br>
around 12:30 p.m.<br>
outfit

<br><br>

Well, at least he was a dog person, Helena noted as Ronan offered his hand for Jack to smell. She wasn’t exactly surprised, some people just seemed like they would take well to animals. Dog-lovers had a certain disposition, one that apparently didn’t mind the complete lack of personal space, since dogs didn’t seem to have any sense of it. To find that Mister Brennan was one of these people did not surprise her in the slightest, even if people had a way of fooling you. She never came off as much of a dog person, her stiff disposition and standoffishness screamed ‘cat person.’ And be screamed she meant politely informed. Though in reality, she never had much love of the creatures. “He won’t bite,” she informed the man, smiling. “Not unless you’re carrying marijuana?” she added with a smirk. God, she hoped not. This island didn’t seem to have that war on drugs business that the cities had, though, only a short-lived hookah bar that she doubted anyone ever went to.<br><br>

Probably for the best, Helena was never a fan of hunting down hidden stashes in primary schools when she could be out solving real crimes.<br><br>

Jack’s tail was going wild, the old dog excited over the prospect of a new person to meet. He sniffed the man’s hand happily, wet nose brushing against the back of the hand. His sensitive nose picked out smoke fumes, recognising it as the same scent Helena had after she smoked one of those burning sticks. Where they had lived before, that smell was all over. Everyone stunk of it, and since moving here he smelt it rarely. The air was cleaner here, and Jack could more easily distinguish the trail of rabbits and foxes than back home. Deciding this new person she had presented him with was okay in his book, he sat on his haunches, tail thumping against the ground. A trail of drool began to seep from the corner of his mouth as he looked between the two humans curiously.<br><br>

“Thank you, he’s a purebred bloodhound.” Helena grinned slightly at Ronan’s praise, more than a little proud of herself for that particular accomplishment. She had raised him herself, trained him to hunt and track, not maul people in the streets. He was a damn good hound, if she did say so herself. Together they had tracked some high-profile criminals. Too many to count, really.<br><br>

At the mention of his name, Jack bayed, clambering to his four feet the moment the rubbing and petting stopped. The dog looked to Helena almost expectantly, like he was waiting for her to break out the leash and walk her already. She smiled apologetically at him, and nodded to Ronan. “Right,” she said, determined to get the key out of the door before her roommate came back to a locked flat. Although Taryn was moving out shortly, she needed to collect her things at some point. Her stomach gave an uncomfortable twist at the thought of looking for another roommate, but it was that or live alone and pay rent for two, for one.<br><br>

Not a particularly pleasant idea.<br><br>

She issued a quiet sigh, motioning for Jack to follow. The cool autumn day reminded her that she would soon have to say good-bye to her summer clothes and make way for her tights and boots. She hung back a step or two from her human companion to give Jack a chance to amble up the steps after them. Helena glanced momentarily at the blade positioned so precariously in his jeans, quickly looking away to focus on the changing leaves. Y’dinna wanna know, I want to know what a bloody saw was doing just lying around, she thought. Well, not literally bloody, but... If that had been the case she would have been more than a little suspicious. [i][/i] "Here it is!”<br><br>

“At last, eh?” she replied, smirking. She leant against the side of the building, watching carefully as he withdrew the saw from his pants and got to work. Helena tucked her hair behind her ears, trying to decipher exactly what he was doing to conquer this key-in-a-door predicament. It was an interesting trick to learn, if she ever happened to be in this situation again. And had a saw on her. At his question, Helena blinked, looking to the bloodhound. “Oh, erm...” She had lost track of time, to be honest. “Perhaps fifteen minutes or so? We were about to take a walk when, well.” She gestured to the lock, and by association the saw currently wedged inside. If someone walked by, well, just smile and hope she looked trustworthy enough for them not to call the police. “[b]I think you’re well-acquainted with what happened next.”<br><br>

“Where did you learn to do this, anyway?” she asked slowly, still observing, her words quiet so as not to disturb him and cause irreversible damage to the lock. Or worse, him.<br><br>

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<br><br>
Outfit: Black t-shirt, blue jeans, and black tennis shoes.<br>
Mood: Cool.<br>
TAG: Helena.

<br>
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<br>
Ronan snorted softly, quirking a brow at Helena. "You callin' me a pothead, lass?" He grinned at her cheerfully as he continued rubbing Jack's head with great lavish affections. "I'm offended." He really wasn't, but hey, he loved to make people squirm if he could. As it was, he was still happily considering the possibility that he and Patrick could get a dog for their apartment. F**k, how would Michael like that? He could just imagine the reaction the pooch'd get from Mr. Big Tall Police Officer.<br>
<br>
Not for the first time, as he worked away at the lock with the edge of the saw, Ronan wondered why he wasn't so panicked about the fact that he'd killed numerous men and still had no fear about living with a man trained to bring down murderers. Perhaps it was because...it didn't feel like murder. It wasn't. Murder was the act of wrongfully killing another individual intentionally, aye? And what Ronan and Patrick did, there wasn't a single bit of that that was wrongful. Those b*****ds deserved every lick of pain they'd felt. Hell, Ronan still felt a chill go down his spine when he held a handful of coins at any point. Paying for things on this island was just...awkward for him. Churned up those memories of their past that he and Patrick would never revisit.<br>
<br>
Except for when they revisit you. For their sakes, Ronan hoped that encounter they had with the daughter of a mob boss that they'd killed would be the only one they'd ever faced. It'd brought...life to what they'd done in the name of God. But no, they hadn't done anything wrong. They'd done it all in the name of God, all after He Himself sent them a vision telling them to do His work. They had. And f**k, they'd done it well.<br>
<br>
Helena interrupted his thoughts, then, asking him where he'd learned to do this, and Ronan paused for a moment. ...f**k. Girls weren't supposed to ask that, were they? Weren't they just supposed to assume that the man knew what he was doing and they didn't need to get in the way or ask questions or anything like that? Well. He sure wasn't as hell gonna tell her that he actually didn't know how to do it, that he was just flying by the seat of his pants and by what he remembered reading. "...aye, well, ye pick up strange things in Ireland." There. Maybe that'd be enough. Just in case he wasn't, he looked up at her with the brightest and most charming smile he could manage, hoping she'd be blinded by his pearly whites or whatever the hell it was that women liked. He wasn't even sure anymore.<br>
<br>
Wait. He paused in his fumbling before he jiggled the saw blade slightly again. Ah. There it was. Ronan grinned again, this time a very real smile, before he slowly began to draw the blade toward him again and out of the keyhole. Aye, there'd stopped being any fighting between the broken part of the key and the blade. They'd finally decided to meet, and the key was nice and cozily stuck to the teeth that matched it to some extent. Very nice. "Well, lass," he began, tilting his head to the side slightly. "Seems ta me that ye've got a door again. Fancy that. He very carefully dragged the severed key into his hand and held it up to her as he came to his feet and tucked the blade in between his belt and his jeans again. "I'll see what I can do about gettin' this little...matter looked at, aye?"<br>
<br>
Now, quick, to run away before she noticed he'd never really answered her question. It'd worked! Let that be that! "Weeeeeell, I've gotta be gettin' back down ta the desk." Ronan gave Jack a generous amount of attention before he gave Helena a little salute and began backing down the hallway. "Ye have a good day, aye, lass? Lemme know if ye have any more problems!" And then he was gone around the corner. F**k. Thank God that worked.

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