Shae silently cursed his luck as he rounded the banister at the seventh floor landing. Of course he'd get a call from his bondsman with a contract large enough he couldn't rightly refuse just after making a date for dinner. And then get pulled over on La Palma for speeding, although he was able to charm his way into a warning rather than an actual ticket.
And then the elevator would fucking break, wouldn't it? What the hell? Whose drink had he spit in to earn that kind of karma?
Needless to say, he was a little winded by the time he'd reached the ninth floor. He leaned forward and braced his hands on his knees as he tried to regain his breath, and as he glanced down the hall he caught sight of an unfamiliar woman knocking at his door. Frustration (or something very much like it) was evident on her face, and he wondered just how long she'd been standing there.
"Hey," he called out breathlessly, fingers disappearing beneath his jacket as he tried to massage the aching stitch that had formed in his left side. Oh, come on, he wasn't exactly out of shape. "Nina, raght?"