Haunted Roads

Who: Hope and Nox
When: Saturday Night
Where: The lobby of the King's Inn

Ever since being witness to a murder, Hope was having a very difficult time sleeping. When she closed her eyes, she heard screaming, she saw that.. that.. glove? The more she thought about it the less she thought that it was really a glove. It was like.. nails, or claws rather, and she couldn't get the image out of her head. She had remembered something, two things actually, though whether or not they were actually real or just figments of her overactive imagination, she couldn't be sure. But that was why she had asked the Detective to meet her. Maybe he would think she was crazy, but then again, maybe what she remembered now would help. Maybe it would be similar to someone, or something, that they were looking for.

Hope didn't think that 7pm was ever going to arrive. She had been ready and waiting since 5pm, dressed in a nice, retro-inspired, black dress that looked like something one would wear out rather than something they would wear for a formal meeting. She was supposed to have gone out, to dinner, with Ginger and her father, but they had canceled at the last minute and Hope had been too tired to bother searching through her wardrobe for something a little more casual to wear. She had spent the two hours of free time sitting on the edge of her bed instead, listening to her I-Pod, to music that helped relax her. She had very old-school taste in music. She enjoyed things like Argent and Crosby, Stills, and Nash. She was also a huge Eric Clapton fan. She adored the Moody Blues and Bob Seger. It helped. She felt far less stressed when the clock finally struck five minutes till seven.

Slipping shoes into feet and grabbing her purse and jacket in case they decided to leave the lobby, or in case she decided to go somewhere for dinner after their meeting, she glanced once into the mirror to make sure she looked okay. Skin was pale but cheeks were flushed. Her dark brown eyes seemed troubled, as they always did, her thick, brown hair framing her face with soft curls. Good enough. She took the elevator just because the stairwell scared her a little. It was almost exactly seven when she stepped off into the lobby, eyes scanning for a face that was familiar enough even if she'd seen him only once.

Who: Alex and Serena
Where: Their Apartment
What: Making up is hard to do

The apartment smelled like food with only a little bit of burning scent mixed into it. Hey! He couldn't become a gourmet chef overnight, right? But he had tried and that was worth a lot in his book. And so far, the end product didn't taste too bad. It wasn't as good as what Serena could cook, but the point was that she didn't have to cook it. And not having to cook usually made pretty much anything taste better.

For the past couple of days, all Alex had been doing was sleeping and working. His time out with Prissy had worn him out, and left him a little bit mind-fucked. That girl was something else. And he was something else when he was with her. There was no way in hell he was going to tell Serena about that whole thing though. She would kick his fucking ass from one end of the Towers to the other and back again. Some things were best just kept to one's self.

Barefoot and wearing nothing but his plaid pajama pants and a wife beater, Alex found himself actually dancing around the kitchen. He had the Allman Brothers playing, Midnight Rider, blaring fairly loudly on the stereo in the living room. Singing along, he took the Ziti out of the oven and popped in the garlic bread. Serena would be home any minute. Of course the thought had barely entered his mind when he heard keys rattling in the door.

She would have little to no time to react before her purse was taken from her and tossed aside, and she was grabbed by one hand and pulled in for a twirl around the dance floor, or the foyer if you really wanted to be picky about it. He dipped her, pulled her back up, then he let her go. "Hungry?" He raised his voice enough for it to carry over the sound of the music.