Who: Gabrielle and Max What: Meeting, and helping to move! Because the elevator is a fickle, fickle thing. Where: The lobby/stairs/10th floor When: Just as Gabrielle gets into the complex Warnings: None..maybe cussing.
Gabrielle was frustrated. No, frustrated was perhaps not the best word to use. She was irate, and disgusted, and so. Completely. Over this whole moving shit. She let out a huge sigh, running a hand through her hair, blowing at it in an irritated fashion as it fell back to cover her face. With slightly jerky movements, she pulled a hairtie out of her purse and pulled her hair up into a bun, feeling very, very much the opposite of glamorous at the moment. What was the use of having an elevator, she fumed inwardly, if it didn't fucking work? She'd tried five times and every single time, the elevator took her up to the penthouse suites, no matter what button she pushed. It was as if the damn elevator was convinced there was something on the penthouse floor that she ought to see...like maybe everything that she was missing out on now that she didn't have any fucking money. Spiteful, awful...inanimate thing. And now, just as she was giving up and going to go up to the penthouse and drag her things down the stairs (because three stories was better than ten), it had stopped working altogether.
And to top it off, the landlord was being completely uncooperative. He had walked by five times already and did nothing but laugh at her. She'd asked him--rather politely, in her opinion--to help her move her things up the stares, but he'd simply replied with something rude and left. She stood, hands on her hips, staring at her suitcases for a moment. What on earth had possessed her to pack every single thing she owned? It would take her at least three or four trips up ten stories to complete the simple task of getting to her apartment, not even considering the time it would take to unpack and set everything up.
She took a deep breath. She was being negative now. Another deep breath. Consider this, she thought to herself, step one in your attempt to become a better person. Biting on her lip, she picked up a duffel bag, draping it over her shoulder, and grabbed two suitcases, pulling them over to the staircase, pushing at the door to the staircase before she realized it was meant to be pulled.
There was a long stare at the handle. Then, slowly, she started to giggle. As frustrated and upset as she was, she couldn't help but just feel ridiculous, in the empty lobby of this apartment complex, with her Louis Vuitton suitcases and expensive clothes, wondering if she would even make rent this month, and not even knowing how to properly open a damn door. "Oh fuck," she mumbled. "I've totally lost it." What she wouldn't give for a shot of whiskey...