date: march 25th location: roman’s apartment time: 6:27 p.m. status: closed for @portiaphan
It had been a rare moment of calm— a welcomed silence enveloped Roman as he sat in his newly converted apartment office, going over some reports sent from Lawrence from Russia. Faron's… the disposal had been warranted but had introduced a number of inconveniences, one that amounted to Lawrence's prolonged stay. It felt wrong to give him a definitive timeline when he hadn't any concrete answers himself.
The words had begun to flow unintelligibly across the pages, causing Roman to cover his eyes in frustration, keys shifting in the lock almost instantaneously. Only one person had complete access to his residence, but that didn't absolve him of the feeling of perplexion. Despite her access, he couldn't recall a time where she'd actually used it. This had to be something—
"Pandora?" he exclaimed disconcertedly, straightening up immediately in his chair. Despite her put-together appearance, the turmoil in her expression was clear. Pandora, whose typically statuesque composure, had visible fissures. He’d known her long enough to recognize this. Something had happened. And she’d most likely been there to discuss it with him.
“Hey… let’s talk in the living room, yeah?” he suggested, rising from his seat, and making his way to the door. “Do you want anything to drink? Tea? Coffee? Whiskey? Whiskey in your coffee?”