closed starter for @sugcrtalkin
nights like this are rare. the penthouse is quiet, low cool lighting surrounding the space as music wafts from the speakers of the television that spans the wall. no one's expected or invited, he's still dressed in his suit from the day but his vest and tie are discarded and the top buttons of his dress shirt are open, revealing a smattering of short dark hair. he's nursing a glass of whiskey, staring out at the city when he hears the door and he knows there are very people who can make it past his doorman without him being informed. he discards his drink, confusion flashing over his features as he approaches the door. he glances at the intercom and the face he spies on the other side of his door prompts him to open it, leaning there against it as he inspects his unexpected guest. "is the world ending, or is jolene fairchild actually at my door?"