05-06-2021, 07:28 PM
Mik looked over his shoulder, throwing a grin at them. Sweet! Not that he really expected to get anywhere with them- well, the girl at least. Hot she might be- and with a streak of wild that he liked- but her face was a wall. And he had no interest in pursuing someone who wasn't interested. Lot's of fish in the sea and all that. Not fun if the they weren't interested. But fun wasn't always that kind of fun.
After all, the lady had been about tonight. Who knew where things might lay. And if nothing else, a drink would be nice. Andre seemed a bit more energetic anyway. A bit flirty. At least when he wasn't worried about his clothes. His building was only a couple blocks up. It wasn't bad, as far as apartments went. Nothing like what the Yakuza or the Mordvinov's gave their guys. But Mik had freedom they didn't. And despite his mercurial nature, he kept a nice place. Chaos was all and good. But dirty laundry and takeout rotting in boxes wasn't sexy. And he liked the sexy.
They took the elevator to his room on 2. No walking up stairs past junkies or snot nosed kids or whatever. Most of the people who lived here were professional even though not rich or anything. Good, all the same. Minded their own business. He palmed the pad and his door unlocked. He took of his jacket as he walked in, kicking off his shoes into the corner they usually went. Dirty floors sucked too. At least it was faux-wood- ash, it was called- and not carpet.
His walls were mauve with large white rectangle frames edged in lavender molding. A couple painting dotted the centers. Nothing expensive, but definitely his taste. Swirls of colors, bright and dark. Suggestive of patterns but nothing that could be pulled out. A large flat screen dominated one wall. He had a plush dark grey couch on a rug and a red easy chair and end tables next to them. Coasters, of course. He was a respecter of wood, after all. A wooden frame was next to the chair, connected pieces of various diameters- from waist thick to wrist- jutting out. A few lengths of rope were on the floor. The wood itself in the frame was wound about not unlike a loom, if the arms jutted out in different angles, with various pieces of rope all twisted and woven into carefully intricate knots and patterns so that it appeared to be some kind of art. He glanced at them briefly with a ghost of smile. Always good to have a hobby.
Position and respect was all a joke, of course. And nothing was permanent. But he liked where he lived and liked where he lived to be a place that felt like home. When he could. And things had been good lately, that was for sure. Information was valuable and he was good at it. So it was home. Only thing missing was the smell of food- which only came from whatever takeout he ordered. That could come later, if they wanted. If they stayed.
He wasn't too bad off- just needed a change and maybe a quick swipe of a washcloth- but Andre looked the worse for wear- or had at least complained enough. "Bathroom's down the hall. Big enough if you need to share," he nodded. They could shower or whatever. He went to the kitchen and opened the fridge, pulling out a beer- a stout- and then said, "Help yourself to a drink. I'm gonna change real quick," He started to head down the hall to his room.
After all, the lady had been about tonight. Who knew where things might lay. And if nothing else, a drink would be nice. Andre seemed a bit more energetic anyway. A bit flirty. At least when he wasn't worried about his clothes. His building was only a couple blocks up. It wasn't bad, as far as apartments went. Nothing like what the Yakuza or the Mordvinov's gave their guys. But Mik had freedom they didn't. And despite his mercurial nature, he kept a nice place. Chaos was all and good. But dirty laundry and takeout rotting in boxes wasn't sexy. And he liked the sexy.
They took the elevator to his room on 2. No walking up stairs past junkies or snot nosed kids or whatever. Most of the people who lived here were professional even though not rich or anything. Good, all the same. Minded their own business. He palmed the pad and his door unlocked. He took of his jacket as he walked in, kicking off his shoes into the corner they usually went. Dirty floors sucked too. At least it was faux-wood- ash, it was called- and not carpet.
His walls were mauve with large white rectangle frames edged in lavender molding. A couple painting dotted the centers. Nothing expensive, but definitely his taste. Swirls of colors, bright and dark. Suggestive of patterns but nothing that could be pulled out. A large flat screen dominated one wall. He had a plush dark grey couch on a rug and a red easy chair and end tables next to them. Coasters, of course. He was a respecter of wood, after all. A wooden frame was next to the chair, connected pieces of various diameters- from waist thick to wrist- jutting out. A few lengths of rope were on the floor. The wood itself in the frame was wound about not unlike a loom, if the arms jutted out in different angles, with various pieces of rope all twisted and woven into carefully intricate knots and patterns so that it appeared to be some kind of art. He glanced at them briefly with a ghost of smile. Always good to have a hobby.
Position and respect was all a joke, of course. And nothing was permanent. But he liked where he lived and liked where he lived to be a place that felt like home. When he could. And things had been good lately, that was for sure. Information was valuable and he was good at it. So it was home. Only thing missing was the smell of food- which only came from whatever takeout he ordered. That could come later, if they wanted. If they stayed.
He wasn't too bad off- just needed a change and maybe a quick swipe of a washcloth- but Andre looked the worse for wear- or had at least complained enough. "Bathroom's down the hall. Big enough if you need to share," he nodded. They could shower or whatever. He went to the kitchen and opened the fridge, pulling out a beer- a stout- and then said, "Help yourself to a drink. I'm gonna change real quick," He started to head down the hall to his room.
"Good and ill.
We're like the wind,
we blows both ways."
- Mad Sweeney, American Gods
- Mad Sweeney, American Gods