08-18-2014, 05:37 PM
Torri didn't need a beheamoth like Drayson to fight her way through a crowd, but that didn't mean she didn't mind him doing her dirty work. Soon enough they were next in line for a taxi, and Torri was ready to crawl inside. The snow was piling on both their heads, and in Torri's case, stinking giant wads of white to her hair. She likely looked like a drowned rat.
Thank God Drayson agreed to come along. She'd have been extremely put out to fulfill the obligation to spend an hour in misery just to match him. She couldn't very well go home and enjoy a hot cup of tea knowing he had an hour's commute ahead of him.
The driver scowled when the two soggy passengers climbed in the back. Torri's face was flat. Thankfully the taxi had back seat warmers. She immediately shoved her hands under her legs. The backs of her thighs were freezing wet, but at least her fingertips could soak up the heat.
The address she gave was only a few kilometers to the east in Kitay-Gorod, the oldest area of Moscow, discounting the Kremlin. Torri had nothing to do with the selection of her residence. Supposedly the building she lived in was owned by the government, or someone in government, which was as good as the same thing.
The taxi merged into traffic, but an actual drowned rat might make it to her place before them. However once they made it to a major thoroughfare, they gained some speed. Torri's hands were warming under her legs and she pulled them out in time to offer payment to the taxi driver just as they pulled in front of an otherwise unremarkable building. It was a side street about half a kilometer from the Kremlin that was lined with old buildings three or four floors in height. Hers had a flat front, small windows and nice paint. She had to swipe security access to get in the front gate, but once there she turned to Drayson apologetically. "Top floor, I'm afraid. No elevator."
She rung out her hair before she lead them up a flight of narrow stairs, her heels clicking on the cement steps as they climbed. She preferred flat footed shoes to heels, but these were usually comfortable. However, by now, the wet, muck and cold had seeped inside and rubbed against her heel. She was very much looking forward to kicking them off as soon as possible. Assuming she didn't just toss them in the trash. She sighed as they reached the top floor. Trashing them was probably too hasty. They were functional shoes after all.
"Here."
She didn't sound out of breath, but she was exasperated none the less. The long, narrow hall was almost as cold as outside. A few doors branched off it, and she led them to one that seemed no different from the others.
She used her Wallet, passcodes, and identification to gain access. The locking mechanisms behind the wall clicked off and the door shifted from its typical greenish-brown to a soothing blue color. It would transform to its locked state as soon as they were inside. The electrically charged ionic paint was just another visual reminder to not leave your place unprotected.
There was no welcome mat on the inside, but a light-wood parquet floor was ready to adopt their wet belongings. Torri slipped her shoes from her feet and left them by the door while she attended the pale glow of the flat's control panel on the wall alongside. First, the door locked itself after they were safely inside. Then she huffed on her fingertip and slid the thermostat dial upward a few extra degrees. The sounds of central heating system hummed on in response. She tended to the lighting system as well. The entranceway was on a motion sensor, but her commands resulted in undercabinet lighting to illuminate a wall of kitchen counter off to the left. On the right the sparsely arranged furniture was revealed by pocket lights easy on the eye. After a few more dabs on the master control panel, the hiss of slowly steaming water came from the kitchen. "Water should be hot in ninty seconds or so."
She led him on in. There were two stools positioned at a bar that separated the space between living area and kitchen. The counter was a standard induction, so as soon as she placed two tea cups on its surface, the counter responded and little red circles appeared beneath as means to keep them warm. It wouldn't be warm to the touch, of course, but Drayson would know that. Her apartment was standard and up to date, but there was nothing flashy or dramatic about the space. Except the previous resident had painted the inside a blush pink that Torri hated. Yet she was hardly home enough to redo the job herself.
"Let me get you a towel,"
she gestured that he follow her to the restroom. The apartment only had one, after all, but it was obsessively clean, bright and - once more - sparse. Given that she was still wearing his fine tweed coat, which looked ridiculously oversized on her, she slid out of it and draped it over the glass shower door to drip dry, meanwhile.
By then the water had come up to temperature, and they returned to the kitchen area. Technically it was all one space, except the bedroom, presumably behind a closed door off to the right, and the bathroom they just departed.
On the other side of the bar, she wrapped her hands around the warm cup while the leaves steeped and just silently looked at Drayson. He was soaked clean through and his shirt and tie was pasted to his chest. She hoped his fine shoes and leather belt had been waterproofed, but they would likely be fine. His dark skin glistened still, but somehow his expression was not tainted with anger.
And then Torri just started laughing from somewhere deep in her gut that didn't know she could find this so humourous. Yet for some strange, morbid reason, it was the funniest thing in her life. "I'm sorry, I shouldn't laugh, but this is -- "
she said between smiles.
Hands promptly warmed, she returned the cup to the counter. The faint red ring glowed beneath the white porcelain.
Edited by Torri, Aug 18 2014, 05:37 PM.
Thank God Drayson agreed to come along. She'd have been extremely put out to fulfill the obligation to spend an hour in misery just to match him. She couldn't very well go home and enjoy a hot cup of tea knowing he had an hour's commute ahead of him.
The driver scowled when the two soggy passengers climbed in the back. Torri's face was flat. Thankfully the taxi had back seat warmers. She immediately shoved her hands under her legs. The backs of her thighs were freezing wet, but at least her fingertips could soak up the heat.
The address she gave was only a few kilometers to the east in Kitay-Gorod, the oldest area of Moscow, discounting the Kremlin. Torri had nothing to do with the selection of her residence. Supposedly the building she lived in was owned by the government, or someone in government, which was as good as the same thing.
The taxi merged into traffic, but an actual drowned rat might make it to her place before them. However once they made it to a major thoroughfare, they gained some speed. Torri's hands were warming under her legs and she pulled them out in time to offer payment to the taxi driver just as they pulled in front of an otherwise unremarkable building. It was a side street about half a kilometer from the Kremlin that was lined with old buildings three or four floors in height. Hers had a flat front, small windows and nice paint. She had to swipe security access to get in the front gate, but once there she turned to Drayson apologetically. "Top floor, I'm afraid. No elevator."
She rung out her hair before she lead them up a flight of narrow stairs, her heels clicking on the cement steps as they climbed. She preferred flat footed shoes to heels, but these were usually comfortable. However, by now, the wet, muck and cold had seeped inside and rubbed against her heel. She was very much looking forward to kicking them off as soon as possible. Assuming she didn't just toss them in the trash. She sighed as they reached the top floor. Trashing them was probably too hasty. They were functional shoes after all.
"Here."
She didn't sound out of breath, but she was exasperated none the less. The long, narrow hall was almost as cold as outside. A few doors branched off it, and she led them to one that seemed no different from the others.
She used her Wallet, passcodes, and identification to gain access. The locking mechanisms behind the wall clicked off and the door shifted from its typical greenish-brown to a soothing blue color. It would transform to its locked state as soon as they were inside. The electrically charged ionic paint was just another visual reminder to not leave your place unprotected.
There was no welcome mat on the inside, but a light-wood parquet floor was ready to adopt their wet belongings. Torri slipped her shoes from her feet and left them by the door while she attended the pale glow of the flat's control panel on the wall alongside. First, the door locked itself after they were safely inside. Then she huffed on her fingertip and slid the thermostat dial upward a few extra degrees. The sounds of central heating system hummed on in response. She tended to the lighting system as well. The entranceway was on a motion sensor, but her commands resulted in undercabinet lighting to illuminate a wall of kitchen counter off to the left. On the right the sparsely arranged furniture was revealed by pocket lights easy on the eye. After a few more dabs on the master control panel, the hiss of slowly steaming water came from the kitchen. "Water should be hot in ninty seconds or so."
She led him on in. There were two stools positioned at a bar that separated the space between living area and kitchen. The counter was a standard induction, so as soon as she placed two tea cups on its surface, the counter responded and little red circles appeared beneath as means to keep them warm. It wouldn't be warm to the touch, of course, but Drayson would know that. Her apartment was standard and up to date, but there was nothing flashy or dramatic about the space. Except the previous resident had painted the inside a blush pink that Torri hated. Yet she was hardly home enough to redo the job herself.
"Let me get you a towel,"
she gestured that he follow her to the restroom. The apartment only had one, after all, but it was obsessively clean, bright and - once more - sparse. Given that she was still wearing his fine tweed coat, which looked ridiculously oversized on her, she slid out of it and draped it over the glass shower door to drip dry, meanwhile.
By then the water had come up to temperature, and they returned to the kitchen area. Technically it was all one space, except the bedroom, presumably behind a closed door off to the right, and the bathroom they just departed.
On the other side of the bar, she wrapped her hands around the warm cup while the leaves steeped and just silently looked at Drayson. He was soaked clean through and his shirt and tie was pasted to his chest. She hoped his fine shoes and leather belt had been waterproofed, but they would likely be fine. His dark skin glistened still, but somehow his expression was not tainted with anger.
And then Torri just started laughing from somewhere deep in her gut that didn't know she could find this so humourous. Yet for some strange, morbid reason, it was the funniest thing in her life. "I'm sorry, I shouldn't laugh, but this is -- "
she said between smiles.
Hands promptly warmed, she returned the cup to the counter. The faint red ring glowed beneath the white porcelain.
Edited by Torri, Aug 18 2014, 05:37 PM.