[center][h2][color=B799CD]Justine[/color] & [color=indianred]Racheli[/color][/h2][/center]

Justine sat at a table in a small coffee shop near downtown called The Grind. It was a wifi hotspot and a local hangout for the bookish crowd as it was attached to, and part of, a bookstore called ‘Borden’s Books’. For the moment she sat with her laptop in front of her typing away and idly sipping at a caramel frappuchino with a double shot of espresso. She probably didn’t need that much sugar and caffeine, but she didn’t care. She could run it off or something later. 

The air was cool in the shadows out front of the store, pleasantly so, while birds chirped in the trees that lined the streets, spread out every few meters, in a one yard square of soil that was fenced off slightly. They helped break up some of the ambient noise of the streets from car engines, brakes squealing, and the distant wail of sirens. The far off banshee wail that came from the city was almost a constant the woman had learned to ignore. It was just such a fixture of daily life. Idly she considered moving closer to somewhere closer to the harbor. She did so love the smell of the ocean, though when the tide went out, that changed. 

Paying it no mind, she checked her clock on her computer only to gasp. 10:35 AM! She was supposed to pick up her cousin’s friend from the airport, and she had twenty-five minutes to get there! Her flight was supposed to land at 11, but it could have gotten in early, depending on the pilot and the weather. Standing up quickly, she flipped her laptop over partially onto its screen to dump her drink over on the mesh table, which… splattered all over the concrete. Great. Not like she had time for another one either! 

Grumbling, she shut her laptop which would automatically save and hibernate, stuffing it into her messenger bag. Looking down, she noted the tan spots on her new sneakers, then groaned. [color=B799CD]“Son of a bitch”[/color] she grumped to herself. [color=B799CD]“Nooo, I don’t need to have this kind of day, oh my god…”[/color] Giving a huff, she shook her head, gathered up the cup and lid, tossing it in an outdoor trash can , then snagged the bag and her light leather jacket, making her way to the bathroom in the back. Once inside, she shut the door. A split second later she seemed to disappear. One moment she was there, and in the space it took to blink she was gone. A couple loose paper towels fluttered at the displaced air rushing in to fill the space where she left. 

At the same instant, she appeared in the parking garage a block or two away next to her car. Opening up, she made sure to put her things in, then climbed into the driver’s seat after checking the backseat first. A quick turn of the key turned the blue Hyundai Genesis over and she was on her way out of the lot. It didn’t take but a minute to pay the parking fee and she was on the way to the airport, checking her watch as she drove. It would have been easier to teleport, but a hell of a lot harder to explain. It’s not like she knew Racheli, that was her name, like that. 

She pulled up into the main airport’s curbside loading area. Temporary parking only! She gave no cares though, but still she wasn’t going to be there long. She scanned around for anybody near the door looking annoyed and matching Rach’s description. Her cousin had given a fairly good one, and of course, being the investigator she was, had snooped a few sites. She had a pretty good idea what the other girl.. woman.. whatever looked like. 

Racheli had been tapping her shoe against the concrete. Just in front of her was the empty, paper carton stained with the ketchup and cheese sauce, showing the food was better than she originally expected. Her mouth was still chewing the last bite as she pulled up a napkin to wipe off the reminding grease and condiments from her fingertips. It took a moment to swallow, her hand reached for the foam to go cup and pressed her lips to the straw. The brown pepsi fill the clear cylinder before disappearing down her throat. Eyes spied the clock, this time on her cheap, prepaid cell, expecting to receive a call or something explaining why her ride was likely going to run late. Rach’s knuckles tightened a bit, giving the napkin a squeeze, before tossing it down in aggravation. Her body pulled backwards and rested against the chill, metal back. She went over in frustration at her limited options. 

She only had two on the top of her mind: either walk all the way or risk hitchhiking with total strangers. Neither sounded like it would end well, though she didn’t give a damn about her ride arriving in her absence. In her mind, if the woman had been on time then she wouldn’t be forced to arrive and wait for an absent passenger. Now the debating on [i]when[/i] to leave was the problem, Rach’s impatience showing clearly. It basically screamed anger and annoyance from the crown of her head down to her very feet, the movement of her toes becoming progressively worse with the passing time. Where the fuck was Justine? Rach growled inside her head, still not enjoying the aspect of possibly walking or hitching a ride to the apartment, and considering her departure for as long as she could without looking ridiculous. Her eyes looked down at her drink now completely gone and pondering on leaving the cafe at least. 

Giving a soft sigh, Racheli’s ass pushed backwards. It made the chair screech when she pulled herself upright, collecting both the empty, drink and contain in her left hand before making her way to the trash. She could’ve made it a single trip, but it would’ve a much harder task, one she wasn’t too keen on attempting in a balancing act. Racheli turned on heel around her chair and headed to the can, a large green one with empty trays over top like the very one she carried currently. She plopped her trash into the can, listening to the hollow thunk when she pushed it through the flap, dunking it into the black trash bag underneath. Snatching a napkin off the dispenser nearby, she wiped the back of her mouth to remove any food and drink remains before also plopping it in. 

She returned to the table to collect her things, pulling the straps across her shoulders and into her hands on her way out of the cafe.. It was timed right as when she exited the building, her greenish eyes settled on the woman who was suppose to be picking her up. She, seemingly, had been waiting outside the whole time. 

Racheli’s mood was sour already, showing in her word choice and tone well. [color=indianred]“It’s about time you showed up. Where have you been?” [/color]
      
[color=B799CD]“In my car,”[/color] she said honestly. ~Don’t start~ she thought loudly in Rach’s direction. She wasn’t in the mood to deal with it right now. It’s not like she had somewhere to be. Reaching over she pushed the door open on the almost indigo colored sporty two-door, that looked like it was part rally car or street racer. REaching down she went to pop the trunk, pushing the button after a moment’s hesitation. Climbing out she opened it up, and grabbed the two duffel bags with ease, despite the amount of things that had been stuffed into them. Gently she sat them in the trunk which was fairly spacious for a car it’s size, and clean. There were some items to clean and detail the car, a few backpacks and a messenger bag besides the one in the back seat. There was a large plastic ammo box in there as well. On the lid the lid to the trunk was a bungee cord that had been stretched taut between two hollow recesses. On it was a roll of paper towels, and a few changes of clothes hung from it. Off to one side was something rolled up in a cloth bag tucked into a corner next to a small but efficient tool kit. 

Shutting the trunk lid she moved back around to the driver’s seat, sliding in and then buckling up.[color=B799CD] “Is any more of your stuff coming in the mail or anything,”[/color] she asked Racheli, while pulling away from the airport terminal. [color=B799CD]“And do you need to pick up or buy anything while we’re here, or do you just wanna go crash?”[/color]

When Justine took a hold of her duffle bags, Racheli’s hands instinctively flexed and tightened briefly. She had considered telling the woman to just pop the trunk and she could take care of the rest, but bit her tongue. For now at least. She released the bags into Justine’s care as th as the woman lugged them over to the back and dropped them off. Rach had learned a long time time ago that it was bad idea to grind on a future roommate’s nerves,. Mostly because it never ended well and considering she was at Justine’s mercy, there could’ve been worse things said than her losing her cool. Last thing she wanted was to end up on the street which was a faint possibility. 

Racheli brushed over the contents in the girl’s car and followed around to the passenger side of the car. When her seat belt finally clicked into place, her head cocked up at Justine’s question. Her body settled into the seat as she answered the question. [color=indianred]“I don’t have much left after the funeral, most of it I have to rebuy most of it. So, what you see is what I have currently. So, if you don’t mind, I would like to crash as the jet lag wears off.” [/color]

She had managed to make her tone reasonable and earnest, while she leaned back. Naturally there wasn’t any sign of jet lag but since she got off the plane, something didn’t feel right. [color=indianred]“And to make issues worse, I might’ve caught a cold.” [/color]
 
Justine tilted her head a little. [color=B799CD] “I’ve got enough dough for now to get whatever you need,”[/color] she said.[color=B799CD] “You can pay me back later, or in helping with the place. It still needs some work, but the major things are done. The wiring is up to code and the fixtures are all in. Any work we do or materials we purchase go against rent though.It’s a small deal I worked out with the super,” [/color]she said. [color=B799CD]“Rent’s pretty cheap as it is.”[/color]

[color=indianred]“That’s what Garrett said you would likely come up with.”[/color] Racheli said, slight amusement peaking in her voice, while her head against the door frame. Her eyes flickered to watch the people crowd past, heading about on their daily lives and her ears perked for Justine’s reply. She added one last thing. [color=indianred]“The arrangement suggestion sounds fine to me though I rather pay you up front. Loose ends are something I don't want while staying here.”[/color]   

[color=B799CD]“You’re the one who just said you practically have zero cash. So there is no paying me upfront.”[/color]

She pulled out from the airport into the access road that lead to the various portions around the airport proper, and made for the freeway. As they neared the on-ramp, she checked the traffic around them, then punched something on her steering wheel as she put some power through the pedal. The car accelerated like a rock kicked by a mule as she came up the on-ramp and she merged into traffic a little faster than it was going, only to blend in and begin cutting over to the faster lanes, picking up more speed. By the grin on her face, not only was she a crack driver, but she was enjoying herself. Hardly any jerkiness or harsh maneuvering had been translated through the car. 

Soon she was gliding through traffic, just a little faster than the rest of it while they headed for the Square area. Her mind came back to the comment about her catching a cold. [color=B799CD]“That’s not good. Think it’s something you caught on the plane? My immune system is like … a bunch of Spartans or something, I swear. I rarely get sick and not very badly or for long.”[/color] 

Racheil moved herself from her hand propping up her jaw, casted a jealous look at the woman’s mention of her immune system. [indianred]“Possibly but this is a first time I’ve been feeling under the weather since flying. I’ve only gotten sick very few times, at least by a cold or flu. All I need is some meds and I’ll be fine. It's not like this is my first time and I know how to hunch over a toilet if things get to that point..”[/color]

She knew she wasn’t being much of a conversationalist, slight worry in her mind over how much of her past Garrett had actually shared with Justine. Her eyes drifted between the window, watching the cars zoom by, and back to Justine just to gauge the woman’s reaction. While she listened, her mind studied Justine's image to memory, slightly different from the year old image Garrett gave her.

A sidelong glance was all that she gave Rach for the moment, though clearly something went through her mind, or a few things. Had she spoken them aloud they would have probably been sarcastic or condescending, so for the time being she opted to keep her mouth shut. It was just a better idea. ‘If you don’t have anything nice to say, then don’t say anything,’ the old adage went. Words to live by, sometimes,

Justine was dressed in a pair of shorts that showed her tanned legs that seemed as though they might have been carved by an artist, while she wore a loose white top that was somewhere between a t-shirt that was three sizes too large and or a sweatshirt. It was misshapen and seemingly worn, but while it was too large across the shoulders, leaving a wide neck, it had been trimmed up, showing a little bit of toned midriff and did little to hide the shape of her underneath. It was casual, exceedingly so but it worked for her. One hand reached up and combed through her hair, getting it out of her face as she studied her mirrors for a few moments. The movement caught silvery light from a set of silver hoop and dangle bracelets.

Briefly she pondered turning on the police band scanners in the car, but today was supposed to kind of be a day off. She had a roommate to look after for the time being. Idly she began changing lanes, heading for the outside lane as their exit would be coming up in a few miles. She had been making the transition, when she was aware of a blue and green Mitsubishi Eclipse with what looked like a ‘Critter’ or a puffball with sharp fangs and a wicked grin made out of burning green plasma with blue tips, the word ‘Bitey’ emblazoned on the hood, the side door panels down low, and the rear bumper blew past, flashed brakes and kicked over into the lane while riding brakes, and cutting into the exit. 

Justine slammed one hand into the horn as she cut her brakes in only enough to cut their speed back without screaching them, then flipped off the driver of the car as they sped down a ramp nearby. She’d barely avoided a collision, which infuriated her for a moment, before she began to breathe again, calming down, then peeled off  onto their exit a minute later, heading for the city core. [color=B799CD]“Apparently the retards are out in force today,”[/color] she muttered out of the corner of her mouth in Racheli’s direction.[color=B799CD] “There’s good, and then there’s retarded and homicidal.”[/color]

Racheli’s hands jerked out and caught herself, bracing against the dashboard and the door, feeling the seat belt biting into her chest at the abrupt slow. The belt tighten just as Justine hit her brakes, slowing them down just in time when the fucker in the Eclipse sped by to pass. Her eyes flashed a deadly look at the still cruising driver turning off into the exit a and let her breath return, her heart nearly stopped dead in its tracks. if it wasn’t for the fact she was surprised by the sudden actions, Rach would’ve uttered a spew of curses about the asshole, her tongue being bitten in the event and preventing her from shouting. A coppery taste filled her mouth from the teeth tip digging deep which made her cringe inwardly. Trying to wipe the nasty taste away, she ran her tongue against her mouth inside. 

After a minute, Racheli heard Justine comment on the earlier scene.[color=indianred]“Yeah, some people are real assholes. He might’ve gotten his license from a crackerjack box. I hope they don’t crash getting to where they are heading because they were in such a fire ass hurry.”[/color] 

Rach took a deep breath, her voice turning to a more pleasant topic. [color=indianred]“So exactly much stuff is still inside the apartment that needs to be moved? Your cousin wasn’t specified how much stuff still needed to be moved and you already mentioned the major stuff was taken care of."[/color] 

[color=B799CD]“Nothing really needs to be ‘moved’ per say. Just walls painted, outlet covers need to be put on, probably need to do some decorating. I haven’t gotten the fridge hooked up to the water yet. The stove is electric, glass top, but I had it hooked up. Furniture is a little short though. But no need to knock down walls,”[/color] she replied. Really she wished the stove was gas. There were hookups for it, and gas cooked better, but the glass top was nice. Easy to clean, and looked good. 

[color=B799CD]“Each bedroom has a wardrobe, basic closet. I snagged a couple trunks from Pier One for some extra storage, and table space. Night stands, I got a computer desk for me. From the impression I got through Garret, it didn’t seem you’d really have much use for one.,”[/color] she said. [color=B799CD]“There’s also a dresser in each room. I thought about getting some raised beds that had storage under them as well, as storage space is kind of at a premium.” [/color]

[color=B799CD]“It’s got a fair amount of space still. We can probably make efficient use of it with a little work,”[/color] she commented, as they pulled down a side street, heading  for some taller structures,, heading for what looked like a section of apartments. 

Racheli listened to the ‘to-do-list’ Justine listed off. It was mostly simple stuff and doable within her skill set, though she believed the fridge, however, was another matter altogether. To ensure it was done right and properly, likely a specialist or handy man would be needed. That could be pricey depending on the company but Racheli figured Justine knew that. At mention of Garrett, Rach let a small smile crack her sober expression as she waited for the man’s cousin to finish up. 

After a minute Racheli replied. [color=indianred]“I don’t need much as I’ll try not to overstay my welcome. I just need to get a job and up on my feet before I’m out of your hair, so no need to concern yourself too much.”[/color]

Her eyes returned to the window and examined the cars zipping by, her thoughts lingering over the question sprouting from her time here so far. [color=indianred]“So, what’s the city like? I’ve heard there’s a bunch of metas popping up all over recently, ranging from ‘heroes’ to scum, and causing all sorts of trouble.”[/color] 

Naturally Rach was referring to the latest occurrences like the centralized demon invasion and the recent reports about a figure name Icon’s activities. 
     
[color=B799CD]“Actually I wouldn’t mind having a roommate,”[/color] she said. [color=B799CD]“It’s a two bedroom apartment with plenty of space. I’ve got the rent in hand for now. Garret told me you were tending bar before and stuff. If you got back into it here, we probably won’t run into each other much. My work keeps me crazy busy, and I’m out all hours of the day or night.”[/color] Justine shrugged a little. 

At her comment about the supers and metas popping up she lapsed into silence, seemingly to concentrate on driving as she turned down a side street to the left, then in a block or so, she turned to the right., into a parking lot with a number of vehicles. She pulled into a parking space and killed the engine. Getting out, she grabbed her laptop bag from the back seat and put it across her body. Popping the trunk she gestured to the contents. [color=B799CD]“After you,”[/color] she said, feeling her hesitation to let go of the bags earlier. She reached up and shoved the spare outfits out of the way. 

Racheli had followed Justine out of the car, her hand shut the car door behind her. Casually, she traveled to the trunk. space as her shoes making a hollow thunk with each step, pulling up beside her current roommate. Once Justine moved aside, her arm stretched and seized the backpack first, tugging it roughly over her shoulders. Next came the duffel bags where she crisscrossed the straps over her shoulder making a x over her small chest. the bulk of the bag tapped closely to her upper thighs and smacked it with each movement, her head swayed a bit on her exit. During her shift to the side, she skimmed the interior briefly noting at least one item of key interest within the trunk.    
  

She had another duffel in there she’d forgotten, which she grabbed,. Out of it stuck a couple of lengths that looked like handles, one wooden, the other covered in leather simple in design with a completely rounded end.. If Racheli recognized martial arts practice weapons at all, she’d know the wooden handled one was a bokken, a wooden katana. The other was a shinai, a kendo practice and sparring sword. The Shinai was a less lethal option, but both were excellent weapons in the right hands. Most people who had them took their training pretty seriously. With her physical form, the shape she was in, the two weapons sticking out of the well-used gym bag, it would seem that she wasn’t just some pretty face. By the wear pattern on the grips, those tools had been used.. a -lot-. Was Justine more of a fighter than she thought? 

Though Rach knew nothing about martial arts, she had seen the gym set ups before. Much of what she spied peeking outside matched the description of some of the gym’s accessories, making her curious as a slight, faint grin broke her lips. It faded moments later when she realized it was there, backing up to allow Justine to lock up her vehicle.  
  

It seemed as she moved that she was possessed of a self-assured, easy grace, as she shut the trunk. Swift and sure, her shoulders were square, chin down just a little, back straight. Blue eyes swept the lot, assessing the location of people and vehicles, so ingrained it was subconscious, scanning for threats. Unlike some females in their age ranges, there was no worry in her expression or eyes, simply a pattern of habit. The bag, she carried in her left hand and the sword hilts pointed ahead of her. It would be an easy thing for her to draw one or other from the bag. She swayed some as she walked a bit. It was the movement of an athlete, a trained fighter, a quick sizing up or quick study would show. 

[color=B799CD]“So were you wanting my professional or personal opinion on the metas,”[/color] she asked, having seemed to ignore the question when first asked. By then she was leading the way toward the building, crunching across the parking lot as there was a little bit of loose gravel. It made it easier for her to track footsteps, even though she was very quiet and light on her feet, even if she was slightly off balance from the gym bag in her left hand. 

[color=indianred]“To be honest, either works. I think it depends on which you’re more comfortable giving. Though something to chew on:: when has anything, that’s sugar coated in one way or another, been considered good?”[/color] Rach shot back with her own question, seemingly asking for the personal thoughts more than the overly sweet cover story. It might’ve been some people’s bread and butter, but it wasn’t hers. Following close behind, her head tilted down at the sword hilt peering past the open flap. The woman paused enough to give Justine an unsure look as she stared a bit more at the wooden sword hilt, inwardly debating on continually walking or walking a few steps in her wake. 

Rach’s finger gestured at it, her words were thick with sarcasm and suspicion when she commented. [color=indianred]“Are you expecting trouble or you aiming to hold up a store with that thing?”[/color]  
  
[color=B799CD]“Neither. I had an early morning kendo practice at the police gym with my dad,”[/color] she said. [color=B799CD]“SWAT team and some of the others started up in the last couple years, after Introduced them to Master Bushey,” she explained. “It’s good for their training, give them some practical skills, keep them sharp.”[/color] She smiled a little as she continued walking, not missing a beat. [color=B799CD]“As for the Metas, my boss wants dirt. -I- think they’re just like anybody else, just with extraordinary gifts and circumstances. It’s a recipe that can be for good or for bad. You want to know what makes up a person? Give them power, see what they do with it. Some go bad, some go good. Some just don’t care.”[/color]Justine shrugged a little as she walked. [color=B799CD]“Manners maketh man, as does power.”[/color]

She paused for a moment, turning back to Rach, one hand raised, palm open, edge on, fingers pointed toward her, slightly splayed open, a forestalling sort of gesture, interjecting and cutting through, getting in edge-wise. [color=B799CD]“A gun, a knife, a sword, a bomb, or a hundred thousand dollars are all forms of power. Some build charities and scholarships, and stop theater shootings. Others gun down innocent people, rob the average citizen, and form insider training and monopolies. in a lot of ways the playing field is still the same, just like the arms race. The bow and arrow allowed Genghis Khan to rule all of Asia and even farther beyond. Rifles killed plate steel armor. Repeating rifles beat out muzzle and breech-loaders. Then came the machine gun and automatic rifle, and Viet Nam saw the resurgence of body armor. Two bombs ended World War II, and now everybody has them or wants them, but nobody really dares use them. The world is a rough place and times and the tools change. now, there are Metas, good and bad, doing what they do. Hopefully the good guys can maintain the status quo, but.. criminals and badguys get very inventive and change things all the time.”[/color]

She paused for a moment letting her hand drop. [color=B799CD]“Sorry.. I’m preaching, and I shouldn’t.. I’ve a bad habit of shooting my mouth off at times. My boss doesn’t always like it,”[/color] she said quietly. 

Rach came to a stop when Justine’s hand whipped out to halt her. Her eyes narrowed and she adjusted her things, her arms growing a bit numb from the dead weight, her ears catching the thoughts of the woman’s rambling. It seemed more like a preach about politics of right and wrong and how the world evolves. The bigger guns always won in the end and within Lost Haven, those nice, new guns were called ‘Metas’. Most the word choices seemed personal in natural which she easily shrugged off, knowing it wasn’t her business. It only took until the end of the speech for Justine to realize she was giving off one rather than an opinion. 

Racheli just shrugged it off as she spoke. [color=indianred]“Don’t apologize for your thoughts, I asked for them after all and of I wasn’t ready for it to turn into a debate then it’s my own damn fault for asking. That’s the way I see it. One thing I liked about your cousin was he never bothered caring about how his thoughts came off to anyone though he was usually careful on his wording the first time. So, we head in before my arms drop off? I’m pretty sure after your lessons, you’re pretty exhausted and I rather get settled in before looking for a job.”[/color]

She sighed and shook her head. They were almost to the building, as it was only a few meters away. She’d stopped about half way. Heading for the door, she pulled out her key to open the lower door. It would allow someone to egress just fine, but to get in, they’d need to be buzzed in or have a key. Inside was a lobby area of sorts with stairs leading up several stories, a short set of stairs leading down, and a cage style elevator leading up the main stairwell. [color=B799CD]“Stairs or lift,”[/color] she asked. The stairs were faster, but required more effort. … Though the idea of just porting up there came to mind too..

[color=indianred]“I think I prefer the stairs. Not a fan of bird cage to be honest.”[/color] Racheli stated, her tone betraying her discomfort over it as she turned toward the stairs. Her mind lingered on how it was too confining to her and the idea of being a cage, even a moving one, made her uncomfortable. It was like being in jail and she already been there in her early teens enough to last her a life time. Her hands tightened on her bags, her muscles strained a bit, while she gesture for Justine to lead the way. After all, she had no way of knowing where she was going. 

 Shrugging, Justine headed for the stairs, taking them two at a time, but not so fast that she would leave Racheli behind. AFter four flights though, she had slowed down to one at a time and was moving a bit slower, as they stopped off on the fourth floor. That was probably one of the reasons she was in good shape, besides the classes. Four flights of stairs could do a number for a person’s legs. Moving from the landing, she headed down the hall. There wasn’t very far to go, as they made their way to the end. By the time they got to the apartment, she had her keys out and quickly unlocked the place, letting Rach preceded her in, then slipped in as well, shutting the door, locking it, deadbolting it, and sliding the chain. 

Finally, she hefted the bag once, getting a better grip. She still hadn’t transferred it to her other hand, nor did she seem winded by the climb, or even really othered by it. Moving from the doorway, she gestured to the left. [color=B799CD]“Kitchen, dining area on the other end of it. Living room on the right. Bathroom between the bedrooms. I took the one on the right, yours is on the other side.”[/color] As she spoke she played tour guide, giving the nickel tour.[color=B799CD]"There’s a linen closet over here, and, of course the bathroom has a full shower and tub.. There’s some groceries in the fridge. Anything you need, I’ll be happy to help get, or go out for.”[/color] As she finished speaking she’d made her way to her room, and dropped her bag inside the door.

[color=B799CD]“Questions, comments, concerns, complaints,”[/color] she asked, as she turned around, bouncing a little bit, followed by stretching her arms over her head, then bending back and then forward for a moment, perhaps being a little fidgety and loosening up. 

Being once a boxer, Racheli used her legs in a fight and to most that meant she should be able to keep up with Justine. However it was clear she hadn’t boxed in years while she made her ascend. Her legs started to burn and scream in protest, her lungs trying to collect the breath she had trouble keeping in her chest and her stubbornness too strong willed to let her give up chasing after Justine. Her arms were already numb to the stress from the bags, the muscles deadened almost to any sensation when they finally reached the fourth floor. 

Rach paused a moment on the landing, her hands placing the bags on the floor to get some feeling back into the. Her eyes watched Justine turn off and walk down the hallway likely toward the room, causing her to curse under her breath. Not wanting to lose her only guide to the apartment, she inhaled deeply and jerked the bags from the ground before darting to close the distance between them. Already Justine had her keys unlocking the door then pushed the door, gesturing for Racheli to get in then locked the door behind them. Immediately, the woman’s eyes brow raised at the three measures of protection for the door alone. It screamed bad neighbor in her mind which made Rach wonder how dangerous the Sherman Square was and if she should consider the odds they might have unwanted company one day or the woman was completely paranoid. Considering she sword played with a Swat team, Rach doubted it was the later. 

Pushing the thought behind her, Racheli’s hands plopped the bags down and shoved them to the nearest wall with her foot. She didn’t intend to leave them there permanently but rather until feeling returned to her arms. She turned toward her house mate still standing in the doorway, unaffected by the climb she likely did on a daily basis, then started the tour. Racheli stuck close to Justine while her hands rubbed her muscle, trying to ease the sting creeping along her arms with gentle massaging movements, her head casually turning to the room with each label spoken. the tour short, pleasing Racheli, when Justine finally made her way into her own room where she cast off her bags onto her own bed. 

Racheli politely stalled just outside the woman’s bedroom door waiting for her finish up, her arm leaning against the frame to look at her friend’s cousin. Spotting the spare energy the woman during her little stretching, she shook her head and smirk lightly for the first time. She answered in a casual tone when Justine asked for any concerns she might’ve had. [color=indianred]“Nothing comes to mind right now, though if something comes up then I’ll bring it right to you. Though I noticed several layers of locks on the door so is the neighborhood that rugged or does that come with sword fighting with police?”[/color] 

[color=B799CD]“Every apartment I’ve lived in has had those measures. It’s pretty typical, as far as I knew,”[/color] she said. [color=B799CD]“I never thought anything of it. I mean, its not like it would stop anyone really determined to get in. They could come through an exterior window too. And… well the wall might be easier to come through,”[/color] she said. 

She shrugged a little. [color=B799CD]“I also have a Carry Concealed Weapon license, and a good amount of shooting time. It’s kind of the same principle as a condom. I’d rather have it and not need it, than need it and not have it. My daddy didn’t raise me to be a victim. I don’t really need a gun, but.. it’s easier. ‘Course, as a journalist, I can wind up in some nasty neighborhoods. You know?” [/color]

[color=indianred]“You’re just a bundle of positive thoughts, aren’t you?”[/color] Racheli’s tone weaved between teasing and sarcasm, unsure herself which it was really. 

The woman was borderline paranoid, she decided when the mention of a concealed weapon license came out. Her body edged from the doorway and trotted back toward the living room where she left her bags, bending over to retrieve them. Giving a slight grunt, she hauled them back over to her room where she once more tossed them gently to the side. Her body seemed to have grown heavy as her limbs hung limp at her said, her illness seemed to take a potshot at her weakness. The cough hit her hard, making her chest rattle and eyes shut tightly, hacking abruptly until her throat was raw. The sound echoed in her ears and loud enough it could’ve been heard from Justine’s room. Rach’s arm reached out to prevent herself from crumbling thanks to the surprising strength, thinking for a moment she might’ve just pissed her pants, then feeling it fade away. 

[color=indianred]“Fucking flu.”[/color] Racheli hoarse out, as she closed the door and crawled onto the bed where she passed out.