Wanted: Flatmate to help with rent. Cheap rent. Must be able to cover the full month's rent, will be only asked for half. Will be given the master bedroom with connecting bath. Must be willing to share cleaning and similar chores. Quiet neighborhood. No credit needed, no background checks required, proof of employment appreciated. If interested, please contact this phone number:
Two weeks. Two weeks he'd had the ad in the paper, and he was starting to get nervous. Rent was coming due in the coming week, and, quite frankly, he didn't have it. He had part of it, but not all of it, and the landlord had made it quite clear he was getting very tired of partial payments. It was getting to the point where he might actually visit the apartment, and Elk really prefered to keep the landlord as far as way as possible, the only sentiment the two seemed to share. But! Someone had answered! They were coming for an interview this morning! If all went well, they might move in the same day. That would solve a lot of problems all in one.
Elk paced through the living room and combined dining room. It was a surprisingly spacious area, considering the relatively cheap rent, but the scuffed flooring, obviously patched walls, and less than top-of-the-line appliances definitely brought down the value of the place. He had pictures hung up over the worst of the flaws in the walls, mostly thrift and second-hand shop finds that appealed to him, but there was no real cohesion between the pictures. One of them was even a picture of someone else's family. To be honest, that particular picture was actually covering a small hole he, himself, had accidentally put in the living room wall. He meant to patch it! Eventually. When he made the time. It was not a bad place, really, everything worked, it wasn't even drafty, just old, worn, and in need of new paint.
A brown and white scruffy dog of the pit bull persuasion came trotting over. He looked up at Elk with deep brown eyes and let out a little huff.
"Yes, Mug, everything is spotless," Elk assured him. "We're going to make a good impression on this person! Well, I am. You are going to stay in my room again. Just in case."
The dog seemed to frown, the nubbins of what was left of his ears drawing in as his boxy face wrinkled. Then he sneezed.
"I know you don't like it, but it's for the best until we know what kind of person they are," Elk assured him. He gave the well-muscled body a pat and directed him toward the back of the house. "Now, you should get in your place. They should be here any second."
The dog sighed but trotted into one of the two back rooms and closed the door behind himself.
"Good boy!" Elk called after him. He took one more trip around. Everything was a little shabby, but clean and as tidy as he could manage. He hoped he got a new roommate soon just so he wouldn't have to keep this place so clean! He liked clean and tidy, but this constant in-depth cleaning was killing his knees and taking up way too much time he could be spending working on other projects.
Two weeks. Two weeks he'd had the ad in the paper, and he was starting to get nervous. Rent was coming due in the coming week, and, quite frankly, he didn't have it. He had part of it, but not all of it, and the landlord had made it quite clear he was getting very tired of partial payments. It was getting to the point where he might actually visit the apartment, and Elk really prefered to keep the landlord as far as way as possible, the only sentiment the two seemed to share. But! Someone had answered! They were coming for an interview this morning! If all went well, they might move in the same day. That would solve a lot of problems all in one.
Elk paced through the living room and combined dining room. It was a surprisingly spacious area, considering the relatively cheap rent, but the scuffed flooring, obviously patched walls, and less than top-of-the-line appliances definitely brought down the value of the place. He had pictures hung up over the worst of the flaws in the walls, mostly thrift and second-hand shop finds that appealed to him, but there was no real cohesion between the pictures. One of them was even a picture of someone else's family. To be honest, that particular picture was actually covering a small hole he, himself, had accidentally put in the living room wall. He meant to patch it! Eventually. When he made the time. It was not a bad place, really, everything worked, it wasn't even drafty, just old, worn, and in need of new paint.
A brown and white scruffy dog of the pit bull persuasion came trotting over. He looked up at Elk with deep brown eyes and let out a little huff.
"Yes, Mug, everything is spotless," Elk assured him. "We're going to make a good impression on this person! Well, I am. You are going to stay in my room again. Just in case."
The dog seemed to frown, the nubbins of what was left of his ears drawing in as his boxy face wrinkled. Then he sneezed.
"I know you don't like it, but it's for the best until we know what kind of person they are," Elk assured him. He gave the well-muscled body a pat and directed him toward the back of the house. "Now, you should get in your place. They should be here any second."
The dog sighed but trotted into one of the two back rooms and closed the door behind himself.
"Good boy!" Elk called after him. He took one more trip around. Everything was a little shabby, but clean and as tidy as he could manage. He hoped he got a new roommate soon just so he wouldn't have to keep this place so clean! He liked clean and tidy, but this constant in-depth cleaning was killing his knees and taking up way too much time he could be spending working on other projects.
The ad had stuck out to her as a little odd ‒ what was the idea with requiring a full month of rent but only asking half? ‒ but the rest of it, no credit, no background checks, had been the deciding factor for her in reaching out. It had been a man's voice at the other end of the line when she arranged the interview. She thought she'd heard a faint bark in the background during their call. If he had a dog, she hoped it wasn't a big one. Anna had always been a cat person.
The address she'd been given was in an area of the city that had seen better days. An old maple partially obscured the facade of the red brick building she was headed for. She could hear the faint hum of the highway somewhere to the west when she rang the bell for the 3rd floor apartment to the left. "It's uh, Anna? Winters," she said, the response too garbled by the entry phone for her to understand, but the door buzzed, and she was in.
The stairwell smelled of some sort of wildly industrial cleaning agent that made her nauseous, so she hurried upwards and was invited into the apartment that might become her new home by a gangly man with striking red hair and eyes to match. Hm. Contacts, or a wizard? Opting not to ask right away, she extended her hand to him with a polite smile.
"Hi, it was me on the phone. But you know that, um," she chuckled nervously, eyes darting around as she took off her shoes. A sofa arrangement next to the worn kitchen almost blocked the way further into the apartment. There were so many doors here; it made her more than a little curious about the rest of the layout.
"It's good to meet you ‒ the mailbox said Kinkaid?" The man's taste in art certainly wasn't the most cohesive, but no Kinkades, as far as she could tell ‒ a promising sign. "So, shoot. Tell me what you want to know about me ‒ and if I could have a tour, that'd be nice, too."
The address she'd been given was in an area of the city that had seen better days. An old maple partially obscured the facade of the red brick building she was headed for. She could hear the faint hum of the highway somewhere to the west when she rang the bell for the 3rd floor apartment to the left. "It's uh, Anna? Winters," she said, the response too garbled by the entry phone for her to understand, but the door buzzed, and she was in.
The stairwell smelled of some sort of wildly industrial cleaning agent that made her nauseous, so she hurried upwards and was invited into the apartment that might become her new home by a gangly man with striking red hair and eyes to match. Hm. Contacts, or a wizard? Opting not to ask right away, she extended her hand to him with a polite smile.
"Hi, it was me on the phone. But you know that, um," she chuckled nervously, eyes darting around as she took off her shoes. A sofa arrangement next to the worn kitchen almost blocked the way further into the apartment. There were so many doors here; it made her more than a little curious about the rest of the layout.
"It's good to meet you ‒ the mailbox said Kinkaid?" The man's taste in art certainly wasn't the most cohesive, but no Kinkades, as far as she could tell ‒ a promising sign. "So, shoot. Tell me what you want to know about me ‒ and if I could have a tour, that'd be nice, too."
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