They catch her as she's leaving. Nothing with her -- the apartment is stocked with silk and wool clothes, the kind that make her look (almost) like everyone else passing through the lobby of the Aubade, heels (she'd learned to walk in) making hard, high sounds against the marble. They catch her by the elbow, and it takes everything she has not to snap and kick and respond like she's spent months now learning to respond, but Kelly, E, resident, does not behave like a criminal. She thanks them, takes what they tip into her hand -- and then Kelly, E, resident loses fractional composure as she stands in the hallway and laughs.
She weighs the key in her palm, bounces it a little and looks at it the way she runs fingers through jewelry boxes, digging out what could hold the best -- curious -- and then it goes into a pocket, and the note tossed toward the nearest doorman to catch and she's gone, the click of heels on marble and a trail of laughter in her wake.