Maverick stood in his own apartment, hands on his hips, looking furtively at his phone that sat on the cabinet nearby. Roddy had called him earlier, and Roddy rarely ever calls. He rarely called Roddy too, but that was a different thing all together. The bastard hadn't left a voicemail either, and Mav didn't want to call back. He hadn't been over there to see the old goat in a while, he guessed he might as well make a social visit...
Just to see why he called.
With a sigh he grabbed his phone off of the counter and slid it into the pocket of his leather jacket. He shook his hands absently, flexing his fingers before standing up straight and taking a deep breath. It's been a while since he's been to Roddy's; but the picture of the livingroom was still fresh in his mind. Hopefully Roddy hadn't moved too much shit around since he's been gone.
He felt the pressure deep in the core of his body, or rather, the lack of pressure that always started to manifest as he prepared to jump. With one last roll of his shoulders, he pulled himself apart, moments later reconstructing in a split second in Roddy's livingroom. He shivered just a bit as everything put itself back in place, stepping from one foot to the other in quick succession.
"Goddamn, I'll never get used to long jumps." He muttered to himself before casually walking over to the fridge to pull out a soda, not even thinking that anyone else might be in the house. Roddy was always out and about at this hour.