Unloading the Monster had been a production number, but it had made unpacking so much easier that it was worth it. The apartment was better than he could have hoped, considering that he had rented it sight-unseen from Chicago, and after a day of moving furniture and sorting through boxes it almost looked presentable enough to entertain in. There was a small mountain of flattened cardboard by the door, and absolutely nothing on the walls, but all and all he was pleased. It wasn't bad, especially since he had spent a good part of yesterday sleeping off his roadtrip. And the view! He had promised himself a trip down to the beach as soon as the last box was folded down, and by god, that was going to be today.
Until then, he had work to do. He was down to the last few boxes, true, but if he went out exploring before they were unpacked, he knew they wouldn't be. Ever. And dinner and a movie in an ocean-view apartment didn't sound half as appealing when the apartment's main feature was a stack of Charmin and Capt'n Crunch containers. So instead of going out into the world this morning he had showered, dressed, opened the door (all the better to meet the neighbors), and thrown on some music. If he had to keep working, he might as well have a good soundtrack.
That was the idea, anyway. Having something to listen to did keep Richard's mind busy during the otherwise stultifying task of sorting the kitchen drawers (he so very much did not care where the spaghetti strainer went, or if he had one at all) but it also kept him from focusing on the world around him. That meant work went faster, but it also meant that he forgot about things like the open door. So when his favorite song from high school came from the record player he joined right in, wandering from room to room with various household items and singing along in his off-key tenor.
"It's all the same!" he agreed with Bon Jovi from the kitchen. "Only the names have chaaaaanged! Every day! It seems we're wasting away. Another place! Where the faces are so cooooold! I drive all niiiigh..." he trailed off, hearing an unfamiliar voice coming from the other room. Oh yeah. The door. That was slightly embarrassing. He chuckled, shoved the current handful of spoons into his silverware drawer, and walked back out to the livingroom.
Of all the things that he expected to see, none of them was a tattooed EMT with the remains of a nasty shiner. He grinned and walked over to turn down the music. "Well, I'm not quite sure it's a home, yet, but yes. I'm Richard Wainwright. Just moved in yesterday." Once the volume was down to a more manageable level, he turned back to the newcomer. "I promise, I don't need medical assistance. Well, no more than usual, anyway."