Morningstar Manor

Smith wasn't really a 'club' sort of guy, but he figured it was long past time he take Laura on a real date. For all her posturing and feistiness, she was still a woman, his woman, and occasionally needed something from him that wasn't dangerous or a roll in the sack in between their shifts at their jobs.
They'd went for dinner at the Indian restaurant and he'd thought a stint in Babylon would be something they'd enjoy. They could drink, have privacy when they wanted it, and there'd be masses of writhing men and women for Laura to laugh at when they didn't.
Now, dressed in a tight black button up with the sleeves rolled up to his elbows and a pair of dark grey slacks, he leaned against the bar and watched Laura watch people.

Declan walked into an empty apartment grinning like an idiot with a huge box in his hands. He'd been worried about Sterrin all week. Ever since he'd told her of Callan's visit, she'd been unnaturally subdued and spending more and more time away from the apartment - not that he and Jack were complaining about that - but he still worried. He didn't know where she went, although he assumed it was to Max and that was far better than some of the alternatives she'd chosen in the past when it came to Callan. She was at least somewhere semi-safe.

Charlie was happily concentrated with three separate paintings on the go. He had always liked working like this - it saved so much hanging around time while washes dried. The two water colours lay on their table easels and the larger acrylic was propped on the high tripod easel, and Charlie's painting mix of music played quietly in the background while he went from picture to picture on his spinny wheely chair.

From the living room, if he strained his hearing, he could hear some kind of sporting event on the tv, and Nia was sound asleep, worn out by their play in the snow that morning, so Charlie could paint undisturbed with a clear conscience.

I happen to have a good excuse to have a Girls Night next weekend. 31 years isn't much reason to celebrate but.. it's a good excuse for us ladies to get together? Are you in? If you know someone who'd like to join, or you have bright ideas about what to do, let me know!

OOC: If your girly pup wants to come along, then come along! Girls Emily doesn't know are welcome as well - for example they can be invited by someone else. We'll figure out an excuse, but at least more ladies would get to know each other that way. Manor Girls Unite!

Right beside the door numbered 229 was a big beautiful bouquet of long deep red roses leaning against the wall. Leaning against the wall on the opposite side of the corridor was Thomas Avery, dressed in a characteristic black and silver suit. He had been there for about fifteen minutes, several times almost knocking on Jazz's door but then resorting to pacing up and down nervously, making frustrated sighs and groans. What the hell could he say? How on Earth could he ever fix this? His darling bonita would be utterly stupid to take him back after all he had done but... he could live with an utterly stupid Estrella, as long as she really did accept his apology. But what if she didn't?

In his mind he was preparing a speech of some sort to explain and apologise and beg and crawl, but nothing seemed good enough. Even I wouldn't take myself back, Jesus Christ, he thought to himself and continued pacing back and forth along the corridor.

She hadn't seen him since last month. Not even at the ball or in passing through the halls. Which made her wonder if he was still around. A while ago he' said something about leaving places quite often so maybe he'd just left in the middle of the night? Figuring that the only way she'd know for sure was to go see him, she did just that.

Her finger slid over the peephole in his door after she knocked. She figured she probably looked like shit since she wasn't feeling right. It also reassured that if he was avoiding her, he'd have to open the door.