Haunted Roads

Who: Jerzy and B-Rox
Where: Old Town Towers, Fifth Floor Corridor
When: Late Morning
What: Here Kitty Kitty Kitty

Jerzy was sure he’d locked the door. No, he knew he had. But the ghosts around here never seemed to care about that. No, they just opened shit anyway. Or closed it. Open and close, open and close, open and close, and on and on and on. Some ghost had serious fucking issues. And people thought Jerzy was strange. Oh, if they only knew.

Closed. Sitting on the couch chilling with a big ol’ bowl of Cap’n Crunch and a coke, he’d just woke up and it showed, in his dress, by the state of his hair. Jerzy heard the front door slam shit. Fuck. “Kitty?”

“Hello?”

He didn’t think there was anyone here, well besides him and Taavi, who was most definitely in the shower. “Taavi?” He asked anyway. “Kitty, kitty? Okay, not funny.” His worry was for the cat, in all this. Someone or something had either just come in, or just left, but Jerzy worried about the kitty. Well, of course he worried about Taavi, but hell, he knew that whatever it was was probably not more badass than Taavi. That guy could kick major fucking ass. Jerzy had seen it.

After setting the bowl and soda on the coffee table (he’d had to brush aside yesterday’s dishes, game cartridges, overflowing ashtray, a bong, and various other items), Jerzy was up and moving. His eyes moved every which direction as the man took on a stealthy stance, shoulders hunched, bare feet falling softly on the rug and then the wood floor. When he saw the door he paused. It was wide open.

Jerzy turned around and around, looking, but made his way finally, on shaking legs, to the door, and out. In the hall now. “Kitty?…” He'd never given the cute little thing a name. After all, she wasn't his to name. Not like she'd be sticking around or anything. But he hadn't expected this.

Who: Justine & Dorian
Where: Chroma
When: Evening (after dark, obviously)
What: Checking in on things


Chroma tended to be quite capable of running itself. The staff had been impeccably trained by the establishment's owner and Justine was always only a phone call away. Once the sun set, she rather liked to head downtown and see over things in person, reassuring the staff that she was not simply some omnipresent being that oversaw all of them from a distance. After all, the place was her baby, her creation and nursing it into longevity was a thrilling endeavor. She'd dreamt of running a business for so long that now the sight of the building alone could quicken that slow, vampiric pulse.

By the time she reached her office that night the numbers for Tuesday and the expectation for this evening were already on her desk. She so enjoyed her staff's ability to be sufficient - Justine was not one with an icredibly high tolerance for 'slackers.' Of course giving your employees the proper motivation really was key: benefits, flexible hours, all of that. She kept them happy and, in turn, Chroma ran like the well oiled machine she so wanted it to be. A brief glimpse at the numbers assured her that things were bypassing the planned income for the week, a pleasing sight indeed. Tucking the folder into her desk drawer, Justine dropped her cell phone into the pocket of her slacks and headed out to the gallery to check the latest installation.

As usual, she was stunningly professional: black wide-legged slacks, black snakeskin heels and a cashmere wrap around sweater in the deepest of burgandys. Her dark hair hung loosely around her shoulders in soft waves, make-up light and simple for the night. Hands slipped into her pockets, she made her way down the back hallway from her office, setting foot into the gallery area. The room was already filling up for the night, patrons content to sip a variety of vintages from Chroma's wine bar and take in the latest artist that Justine had recruited to show. Many of the pieces were of a mixed-media variety, paintings with oil and cloth that created a visual experience worth the time it took to see each and every one. A few of the wandering crowd were regulars and so Justine graced them with a soft smile or paused for a moment of conversation.

Tonight, like most, seemed to be going perfectly so far. But in Seattle, the expected rarely stuck around for long.