Aleksandra Makarov ❅ Maržanna (pavornocturnus) wrote in paxletalelogs, @ 2011-12-04 13:49:00 |
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Entry tags: | marzanna, poseidon |
and the ships are left to rust
Who: Alexander & Juliet
What: Juliet visits to peruse Alexander’s library.
Where: Alexander’s apartment, P2.
When: The day after this
Notes: GDoc placeholder! Started in a GDoc, to be continued in the comments!
Unwilling to take advantage of her host without some kind of a ‘welcome to the apartment building’ gift, Juliet had thrown together a quick batch of white chocolate chip and walnut brownies to take up to Alexander’s; a casual outfit was hopefully appropriate, most of her better clothes dirty since she had yet to do laundry. Thankfully it was a short ride in the elevator -- there were some perks to living on the eighth floor -- and before she knew it, she was stepping out onto the penthouse floor, her boots moving noiselessly on the wooden boards underfoot. She had noted a difference in the quality of the apartment floors through her comings and goings; the first floor boasted less ornamentation than her own floor, and the topmost level certainly showed off a superior molding and floor finish. But Juliet hadn’t made brownies in order to gain access to study the architecture of the building. No, she was half excited to hopefully be allowed to explore what she assumed was going to be an impressive library.
Each door showed off shiny, golden numbers labeling each’s designated numbering. Juliet approached the one with P and 2 on it, shifting the dessert plate to her left hand so she could deliver a swift but still light knock to the varnished surface.
The earliest parts of the morning had been pleasant enough. An empty, silent beach by the time he’d decided to take a dip, eventually interrupted only by the first pangs of hunger after a long nights of no sleep and too much alcohol. New to the building, there was no promise of a full sleep, nor solitude. And given certain occupants of the building, no guarantee he would even crave it, as he normally did. A brief sleep and hot shower set all things to right and rosy, though by the time a knock on the door jarred him out of idle thought, he’d already forgotten to eat.
Dressed simply (which was, for him at least, a four-piece suit, jacket left discarded somewhere he’d already lost track of), he rose to answer the door, hitting the button on his stereo remote due to force of habit. Chopin. Grand for company, better for him.
It was delight to see a youthful, lovely face. Old habits died hard, after all, and he was perhaps a tad too eager to usher her into the warmth of his apartment.
“You, I presume, are one Miss Blackwater. Do come in, love.”
A wide, bright smile greeted the opening of the door, and Juliet wasted none of her manners in following his directions.
“I am, and hopefully you’re Mr. Dahlin! I hope you’re settling in all right,” began the small talk, the plate of brownies instantly rising between them in offering. “I made these for a house warming gift, I hope you like chocolate. You’re not allergic to nuts, are you? There’re walnuts in them,” continued her voice, stumbling a bit as she realized that perhaps she should have gone a simpler route in her creation. But it was all said and done, now, and Juliet was prepared to accept whatever defeat she would be given, if it came to that. One hand left the plate to brush back the black waves falling out from under her cap, pushing it to cascade over her shoulder.