James wasn't typically an early riser by any means. More often than not, she found herself working well past the witching hour, and even then she needed to wind down at another club or venue before heading home. Crawling out of bed shortly after 2 PM was expected, and anything earlier than that left the dancer in a half zombie state of mind.
So, when Hannah made her way to the fifth floor, James was just brewing some coffee. Her hair was mussed, and she was still dressed in the night's ensemble of threadbare wifebeater and snug Superman boxers. The knock sounded and James glanced up from the orange she was peeling in groggy skepticism. It actually slipped her mind that someone would be stopping by for Lotte's reference. So much had happened between the original mention and the current moment, and James cautiously peeked through the peephole when she approached the door.
All she could see was a soft profile and blond hair, and she slowly unlatched the deadbolt and drew the door's chain away from it's latch. The door was peeled open and pinned on the sharp catch of her hip as James leaned against it. Mauling an orange wedge between her pale teeth with an expectant, half awake expression.