Morningstar Manor

Jane was extremely nervous, but there was no changing the shift rota's just because she didn't like a client. That had been made perfectly crystal clear. So here she was, ten am, on the dot, psyching herself up to knock on Mr Avery's door. She really didn't want to do this. But she had to. So she did, albeit quietly, knock on the door.

No answer. Could she be that lucky? Could he be out? Only one way to find out. Using her passkey, Jane let herself in. A quick tour of the apartment, and his bedroom, and she knew he wasn't there. Now she wanted to hurry up, and get finished before he came back. She moved the trolley into the apartment and almost ran to the kitchen to get started. Whoever had been in here on Wednesday they hadn't been very thorough, it was going to take ages to get this mess cleaned up the way Avery liked it.

Jane shook her head, she had to try. Besides, it was her job. So she got on with it. She worked hard and fast, pushing herself more than perhaps she should while she was recuperating, but she had the kitchen sparkling, and the lounge almost finished when she heard a key in the lock. In her head a mantra, please, let it be Lucas, please, let it be Lucas, started up, and refused to go away, even as she kept cleaning.

Bored. Think your uncle would mind some company tonight? ;)

Jazz couldn't retaliate against Ruprecht. She didn't have that kind of power, nor was she suicidal, so once again Avery was her go to punching bag. Revenge for Jane, her own confusion over what she felt, her overwhelming sense of guilt, all got taken out on him in a series of malicious pranks that were decidedly crueler than anything she'd done before.

She'd had to bring a few supplies with her, but after she'd hidden the jumbo prawn in the hollow curtain rod above the window in the lounge and spread the cookie crumbs well and good through his bedsheets, she decided that extra effort had been worth it. Worth even the odd, tingling sensation crawling through his bed gave her. Forcing any feelings that weren't directly related to malevolent activities into the deepest, furthest part of her mind, Jazz smoothed the bedspread with a final pat, and, after giving one of the pillows a little fluff, she stepped back to admire her handy work.

Yep. Looked like she hadn't done a damn thing. Perfect.

( Read more... )

Spending time with Gavin was one of the best parts of Anastasia's day anymore. She cooked, he cleaned up her mess. She painted, he sat quietly close by and scribbled in his notebook. He helped her grade papers and art projects and taught her how to do things like waltz and make oragami swans. Sometimes they talked and laughed and teased, sometimes they didn't, but either way there was no doubt that it was...comfortable. Enjoyable. He'd been with them for only three months and already she couldn't imagine not having Gavin around.

So now she sat in her car, looking at Gavin as he looked at the large department store that loomed in front of them. She'd brought him here in the hopes of getting him some more summer clothes. He hadn't shown up with much, and most of what he'd brought were winter clothes he'd bought that same day. She knew he wasn't always comfortable in public places and that was okay. She'd help him out in any way she could and if it got to be too much, they'd leave.

He never questioned her quirks, and she'd never question his.

Anastasia stepped from her apartment complex with an army green duffel bag over her shoulder containing a weeks worth of laundry. Being a teacher's assistant was a pretty good set up for her as she got keys to the various art rooms, one of which housed a washer and dryer that her professor told her she was welcome to use. So she did. She was also welcome to go down there and use the space and work on her art projects. She did that, too.
On nights like tonight she set out with her laundry, fully intending to spend the entire night there washing her mentionables and creating something. Tonight she planned on using the pottery wheel, and she'd dressed accordingly in faded jeans and an old, battered, gray, v-neck t-shirt. Her hair was on top of her head in a messy bun/ponytail hybrid and she was wearing no make up. She didn't care. It wasn't like she ever ran into anyone en route that she had to impress anyway.

Collecting the mail was a chore. It wasn't so much that Fin didn't like getting letters, though he was very wary of the contents, but having to wade through all the junk that came with them got on his nerves.

Also there was something about the mail room then made him edgy.

He opened his box, and took out the sheaf of paper inside then locked it again and began to go through the contents piece by piece, sorting them carefully by size.

It was a nice morning so Charlie took Nia out in the stroller and pushed her along the path through Riverwalk Park to look at the ducks. There was one white one - not nearly as attractive to his eyes as the speckled brown ones but Nia loved it and they had taken bread specially to feed it.

While she flicked bits of crust into the water and squealed delightedly as the ducks squabbled over it, Charlie got a good grip on her reins and checked his watch.

Time to call his mum. ( Read more... )

At 2AM Thomas Avery was pulling his bedsheets out of his own bed grumbling. She was a cunning one, he gave her that, and had imagination more than a classroom full of 9-year old children. The bread crumbs had been downright annoying and now that he thought about it, the lounge had had a rather strange smell. Maybe it was just his imagination but he decided to look into it in the morning.

This time, however, the fact that his apartment had been invaded once again by a stranger - who probably was no stranger at all in the end - ( did not get him upset at all. )