Electronics Shop Apartments: Shiloh F, Alex W
Having not yet been to work, Shiloh had escaped all effects of the window catastrophe. Perhaps there was a small crack in one corner of his living room, but the building was old enough that he wasn't certain it hadn't been there before. His windows did face the rear of the building, and perhaps this spared him, but he was untouched by this current town catastrophe, and it was neither fear nor concern which lured him from his apartment barefoot and in a comfortable state of impoverished and sleepless disarray, with curls kinked close to his head and sleep in the corners of his eyes.
It was the sound of the keys behind kicked. He wasn't aware the sound was, in fact, keys, but he knew that something was moving across the hallway between his apartment and Alex's, and so Shiloh walked to the door and opened it, bleary eyed and learning one arm up along the doorjamb. There, he saw Mal's protege, headphones on, looking delicately blond and as if he'd escaped some children's hospital after being accosted by bandaids. Shiloh's perusal was slow, like syrup on warm days, and heavy with the kind of stickiness carried in maple that was hard to wash off fingertips. He didn't hide that he was looking. Shiloh quirked a brow, and he continued to lean there in lanky and willowy mildness. His expression was not precisely one of curiosity, nor was it one of disinterest. "Did they behave poorly?" he asked of the keys, his accent more affectation than accent, too posh for Repose by far.