Who: James & Lotte. What: Friendly girlie times. Where: 1206. When: Late evening. Warnings: None foreseen.
James had taken a cab home rather than her usual long walk. Pleasantly excited and hurried about seeing Lotte, but also humoring the girl's request that she be safe. It would have taken more creativity that James was capable to imagine a way that walking home alone on a cold city street in any way counted as safe.
The taxi ride was short, but it gave her time to think on the way home. James was torn. On one hand, she was thrilled that Lotte was in the same building as her. And on the other, she was beginning to believe that Bellum was the wrong place. She'd initially been in love with her apartment, but then she'd met some of the people that shared the address. Just thinking about them as a whole gave her a deep sense of unease.
Although it was with something of a start that she realized she actually liked most of them. The only one she found so irritating was the sailor, Jude she'd been called. But surely Jude wasn't the entire source of her displeasure.. there was also the landlord, James supposed. He was a twisted, sick individual if that one voicepost a couple weeks back was any indication. Jude and the landlord were shoved into one category, and James safely sorted through the others with thought.
There was Rick, who she didn't have anything against, even if his showing up shortly after her was a strange, untrustworthy coincidence. Li, who was simply precious and definitely tougher than expected. Shane.. she didn't really know what to think about Shane. He admitted to violence, but rescued trapped passengers from elevators. Maybe he had some kind of tormented Batman vigilante syndrome going on. Mortal Kombating people by day, pulling harmonica musicians out of elevator shafts by night.
By the time her cab pulled up to Bellum, James was thinking through the details on what kind of costume Shane from 601 needed to wear. Extremely amused by varying thoughts of colored tights and utility belts, she paid the driver and rushed up the stairs. Before swinging by Lotte's, James took a brief shower. Knowing that if anybody would fail to appreciate the smell of kaleidoscopic mens' colognes and cigar smoke, it'd be Lotte.
When James finally knocked on the door of twelve-oh-six, she was twisting semi-wet hair up in a dark bun. The loose fade of jeans dragging low on bladed hips, a button-up men's shirt cuffed above the elbows, left open over a deep blue camisole.