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[img]http://fontmeme.com/embed.php?text=Abel%20Evans%20Ross&name=GatsbyFLF-Bold.ttf&size=50&style_color=E6E6FA[/img]
[img]http://41.media.tumblr.com/tumblr_m4of2rLs6O1qc3d93o1_500.jpg[/img]
[b]Location:[/b][i]Seattle Complex; Top Floor; 833b[/i]
[b]Interactions:[/b][i]Some plants and his mother; giving his cat the cold shoulder[/i]
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"Oh Tila Tequila, with how thirsty you are, I can't imagine the kind of alcohol you'd brew," A small hum radiated from Abel's lips, his hand sprinkling handfuls of water over the soil of a blue agave, "But that'd require ritual sacrifice. Dunno what I'd do without you." Abel smiled, knowing full well the plant would be perfectly fine for a little over a week. He'd be gone for longer than that, sadly, but that's exactly what neighbors were for. Each plant in his home would be cared for by the tiny old lady just across the hall, Mrs. Cavendish with her literal stuffed pets. What remained in his balcony turned greenhouse could outlast the entirety of his floor, as long as the water bill remained paid in full.

Once each plant seemed satisfied and well soaked, Abel made for the couch pushed to the far end of his living room. Phone already in hand, he called out his mother's name and a simple command. She picked up on the third ring, a smile already evident in her voice. "Why if it isn't my estranged son," her voice came clear as a bell, a fake southern belle twang inflicting a sharpness to her words, "What shall I ever do without his daily calls or his sweet Cheshire smile to brighten my day? Oh, what can I do on this annual check in today?"

"It's less of a check-in and more me wondering how you've not been caught with corporate evils like an [i]Apple[/i] iPhone, god forbid," Abel slouched into his worn cushions, playing with a strand of fabric poking out from the seat next to him, "How's the love fest going?"

"Better than ever! I can't wait to tell you how creative these people are. It's glorious and the way they handle—"

"I'm going to stop you right there. I haven't eaten a thing yet and I don't plan on ruining my morning dry heaving over my toilet bowl," Abel cut Elizabeth off. He straightened in his seat, feet pushing against the wooden leg of his coffee table; he clenched his fist hard. "I just wanted to know how you were and if you needed me to come 'rescue' you, yet."

The eye roll was practically audible on his end. "I've never needed saving and I don't think I intend to have you come rushing to Carolina just to fix your mother's problems," she said, her tone softening.

"I never meant it that way; you don't have a problem. You're normal, mom. You're human," Abel frowned as he spoke, "Look, I'm heading over to the Henderson Estate this evening. If you'd like, I can have Raquel vacate a room for you?"

"That's too much. Really, Abel, I'm fine here. Don't worry about me. There's absolutely no need to, anyway. Your mother's never been happier."

"Honest?"

"Honestly truly," Elizabeth paused, the crackle of her breath sounding through the speaker, "Now, I should probably be heading back before they notice. Make sure you bring enough of your wool socks and underwear. And don't forget to pack your toothbrush. Those kids don't need to be smelling your morning breath; I swear, it's worse than your mood."

If it had been anyone else, Abel wouldn't hesitate to snap back. Alas, being a mother had its perks, though he wouldn't admit he didn't mind giving Elizabeth a free pass. He smiled, nonetheless, and replied as quick, "I'll pack two, just in case. I'll let you go, though. I'll see you at least once the few weeks I'm there?"

"Of course, sweetheart."

"Alright, bye," he started, them both ending the call with a simultaneous, "I love you." His blue curtain shuddered with the pick up of a draft.

"Right then," Abel muttered, his eyes catching sight of black fur traveling through kitchen appliances.

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[h1][color=Lavender][b]A B E L[/b][/color][/h1]
[img]http://33.media.tumblr.com/tumblr_lzhll1BbmK1qlk5kj.gif[/img]
[b]Location:[/b] Outside the Henderson Estate
[b]Interactions:[/b] Yelling at the snow

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The entirety of customs parted as if he'd been carrying the staff of Moses—well, he at least had something equally powerful. Having the only part of one's face show ice blue daggers kind of had an effect on even the most stubborn of people. Despite the airport heaters running at full blast, just a glance outside the windows sent a chill up Abel's heavily dressed form. A pair of ear muffs sat firmly on his head, blocking the bustle of passerby, and a wool, checkered, blue and black scarf wrapped around most of his neck and lower face. Barely visible to those merely glancing, a frown sat just above the scarf to match the ice in his eyes. Underneath the heavy pea coat hugging his frame, a hand knit 'ugly' sweater kept him warm and further layered over the long sleeve beneath that. What more, he made perfectly sure to wear his flannel jeans (the flannel obviously lining the inside) and a pair of lime green thermal underwear. Can't forget those.

Now, however, it almost felt as if he'd forgotten them. Not only had his driver initiated conversation but apparently he couldn't be bothered to wait for the gate to let the car through; meaning Abel had to trek through the vast, snow covered courtyard. It didn't help that he had a dufflebag sitting tight atop his suitcase and a cat carrier with a more than agitated cat making his agitated cat noises. Most of his trip to the front door consisted of hissing from Abaddon and muttering curses upon family cows that he flung at the snow crunching under his boots.

The fact that a few others had already gathered near the entrance meant quite little to Abel. He barreled through, still muttering and occasionally grunting at the cat's own growls, without concern for the others. "I hear Tuscon, Arizona is a chill 78 degrees," he called over his shoulder before trudging up the stares with a heavy thud of suitcase wheels against the pristine staircase.

Abel returned moments later with his eyes narrowed and trained toward the doorway. "Which room is the easiest to deep clean?" he called down, making no move to clarify.