Re: Newspaper office: Cat/Jack
Well I wouldn't bloody start if the place looked like it belonged in a magazine. [Jack had learned that lesson living in an apartment that looked like an architect's wet dream, minimalism and never knowing what was cupboard and what was glossy wall. But he watched her stalk the space - exactly like Bukowski, in fact, and he didn't bother to suppress the snort of laughter.]
The cut and thrust of the journalistic lifestyle is fraught with danger and possibility. Also I pay better than bagging groceries at the General Store.
[Sobriety was an hourly decision and he hadn't made the wrong one in a good number of them, but he still hadn't parked his arse in a chair in the Capital yet. Jack watched her look him over with the blatancy of assessing for the fact, and he took up stance against the cupboard, folded arms and looked right back, same assessment but for whatever had wrung her out to dry.]