She had left the door unlocked, since she was bouncing right back out again. She'd given herself the tour of the house she inherited and realized that it could have been a much, much worse switch. She did a little research by way of deductive reasoning and realized that she replaced another photographer. That made her happy, as did the zillion rolls of unused film and boxes upon boxes of unused polaroids. She heard the knock on her door, spinning around and dashing through the apartment, she flung the door open and practically tackled her big brother.
"You don't know how worried I was, I was afraid you were kidnapped or killed or lost in the woods with Cassidy or eaten by wolves or got trapped somewhere! I'm so glad you're safe!" She squeezed him tight before her eyes widened and went damp. "Never ever ever EVER do that again!"
She tugged him into the apartment, which was very much like many Swedish flats - all (re)built and partially decorated in the early 70s, so the walls were white, the windows were wide and tall, and the partition wall between the kitchen and living room had oblong bars with circles cut into them. The furniture somewhat matched in its Ikea-laden Swedish Modern style, and Skadi, in her bright yellow fall coat with orange hat, stood out in the colorless room.