Mallorie Swafford (inadreamworld) wrote in genome_project, @ 2011-01-16 16:41:00 |
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Entry tags: | january 2011 |
WHO: Mal and Bast
WHAT: Potential roommate showarounds/kinda interviewish thingy!
WHERE: Bast’s.
WHEN: Backdated to Thursday.
RATING: Not that high, I’m sure.
STATUS: Incomplete.
This wasn’t like her, being chipper and acting like…well, like Lexie. She wasn’t a negative Nellie or anything, no, but she didn’t act like a Disney princess to the point where people half expected little blue birds to land on her shoulder. It was why she was expecting someone to pull the rug from under her. Ed would suddenly decided that he didn’t like her, Bast would decide that she wasn’t a good candidate to be his roommate…Okay, stop being negative. Now you really sound like Lexie, she thought as she rounded the corner, hands deep in her coat pockets and eyes on the ground before her. The last thing she needed was to slip and fall.
It wasn’t a perfect walk, and she’d almost fallen more times than she was willing to admit, but Mal had actually managed to make it the few blocks to Bast’s place. She really was the only person she knew who did better skating than walking. Hugging her coat around her shoulders a little bit, she approached the door and straightened her coat out, like removing the creases would miraculously give her a better chance at appearing professional and adult.
Admitting that living alone wasn’t working was her first step in doing that, she supposed. It was better to ask for help, to respond to a roommate ad from a month ago, than to allow herself to slip way past due on bills and lose her apartment entirely. Taking that first step was her way of proving to herself that she could be an adult.
Yes, because adults totally stand outside the door of their potential roommate’s apartment having an internal dialogue moment to psyche themselves up. It’s just Bast. He’s always been nice to you, what’s he going to do, turn you away as soon as you knock? She shook that thought off and reached her hand up, knocking on the door and stuffing her hands back into her pockets to prevent herself from straightening out her coat anymore.
Growing up was hard to do.