"Open house is over, sunshine - outta the way.”
The largest bedroom of the apartment opens to the living-dining room, as well as a deck. After spending four years in a warehouse turned - well, safehouse, it can take a while to get used to your new accommodations.
But even so, he already took the envelope in this one. He checked the other rooms. There were none, sadly.
Hoxton doesn’t elbow the man out of his way - just nudges him with enough force to get past. He carries a brown suit jacket in his hands - the light smell of lemon lingers off the warm fabric. In the same vein, his white shirt seems almost barren without the very jacket covering him.
“You my flatmate?” Hoxton asks over his shoulder, opening a barren closet to hang the suit in. It looks empty. A little alone. “Fuckin’ brilliant. Nothing against you, a’course, just wish we got a little more heads up who’d be in our flats when we got here.”
The closet door shuts.
“Guess that’s too much to ask for. Who’re you?”
/ @dcburu
