“Chrissy and Jackson have been addicted to methamphetamine for the past eight years. Chrissy was once a lawyer and Jackson previously owned his own antique shop. After eight years of selling all that they owned to be able to afford higher grade meth, they eventually went broke. They came across each other only two years ago and have been together since. Neither of them are able to afford their own homes anymore and squat in abandoned warehouses and dilapidated apartment complexes in the ghettos of Los Angeles.”

The words were cut off as the weary Cajun sat on the couch with her laptop early in the morning, making the finishing touches to her latest documentary. She had spent the past three months following two meth-heads and questioning their every decision. She had a friend who had majored in Psychology help her with the interview’ as well as a lot of the commentary, helping the future viewers somewhat understand the addicts. She had done documentaries before on potheads, crackheads, and heroine addicts, but she had yet to cover many other drug addicts. She rubbed at her eyes some, having gotten up at three in the morning to finish up the film, now finally putting together the credits after a last review of the two hour long footage. She put her laptop down as she finished before glancing at the clock. It was already past six...She had to hurry up and start on breakfast before everyone got up. With a yawn and a few stretches, she closed her laptop and made her way to the bathroom where she delighted herself in a short shower. When she was finished she made sure to rub down with cocoa butter, paying special attention to her tattoos. She hated when tattoos faded. Every now and again she would look at the space that she had left and ponder what tattoo she would get next. She was thinking of getting a dandelion with the seeds being carried away over her shoulder by an invisible gust of wind. That was always a delicate classic. Maybe too classic. Perhaps a quill dripping ink onto her shoulder and just below it a nice little quote from Gandhi. Or Professor X. Professor X was the shit...He was Gandhi of the comic book world.

A smile danced across her features as she dressed in her favorite shirt - a tank top sporting Captain America's shield - and a pair of Daisy Dukes, slipping on neon rainbow bright socks, dashing down to the first floor. “Ah! Charlie horse! Charlie horse!” She caught herself on the stairs, dramatically falling to the floor as she let go of her bag to grasp her calf while letting out a howl of deep pain. “Good gods, I'm dying! I've been shot! Someone help me! Woman down! Woman down!!” She gave a whimper only for the pain to subside. It hadn't been that painful — But where was the fun in not overreacting like your every action was being filmed for a cheesy sitcom? Kept her on her toes and made her less bored when she was alone. She quickly recomposed herself and brushed off her apron before calling out to the other rooms above her, “No worries! False alarm guys! I'm all good.” Grinning to herself, she skipped her way down into the kitchen. Three years. That's how long she had been living there with her roommates, some newer than the others. It had been a great three years, that was for sure.

She pulled her wild red hair back, her strange blue eyes dancing across the place as though she hadn't been there in years. She moved to the fridge and began to prepare a breakfast enough for seven people. She was never sure who would be up when and who would stay to eat, but she liked to make sure that she made enough food. She was simply sweet enough to make sure that they didn't have to spend their breakfast wolfing down disgusting toaster strudels from the store or choking down a greasy breakfast burrito from a fast food restaurant that was just barely scraping by to pass health standards. The thought of it made her stomach tumble and her throat close up as though filled with sponge cake. Ugh. She hated sponge cake. It was so suffocating. She did a documentary on it before. It was only twenty minutes long.

Doing the running man, the woman maneuvered her way around the kitchen while preparing large omelets and toast, turning on a fan so that the scent would waft up through the vents and into the rooms above. She put her iPod in the kitchen dock and put on her "Taste of Home" playlist, jigging around the kitchen as she tossed various veggies into a searing saucepan. “I was cuttin' the rug down at a place called the Jug with a girl named Linda Lu. When in walked a man with a gun in his hand lookin' for you know who. He said, "Hey there fellow with the hair colored yellow! What you tryin' to prove? 'Cause that's my woman there and I'm a man who cares and this might be all for you. I was scared and fearin' for my life, shakin' like a leaf on a tree. 'Cause he was lean and mean and big and bad, Lord pointin' that gun at me. Oh, "Wait a minute, Mister! I didn't even kiss her! Don't want no trouble with you. And I know you don't owe me but I wish you'd let me ask one favor from you". I said, "Won't you give me three steps, gimme three steps Mister. Gimme three steps towards the door? Gimme three steps. Gimme three steps Mister and you'll never see me no more".”

The bubbly Cajun was unable to keep herself from smiling as she simply basked in the scents swirling around her, adding a dash of pepper here and a sprinkle of her special seasoning there with a dollop of love all around. She loved this kitchen and often spent forever cleaning it before going out to buy fresh ingredients. Sometimes she could get some of her friends to come with her down to the fish market. But only if they were willing to be up at three in the morning to get there before everyone else. She was obsessive about the food that was brought into the loft and was extremely picky about who cooked. She was dishing out plates containing omelets, hashbrowns, sausages, and Belgian waffles, leaving them on the table along with a jug of orange juice that Shay had helped her squeeze the night before. Yes, she was very picky and it had always been that way. She only worked with ingredients that were fresh and insisted on only homemade meals.

She wiped her hands on a dishtowel when everything was ready and smiled wide as though all was right in the world. It wasn't quite so, but it was under her roof. Evangeline was a quirky young woman, acting as the mother hen of their nest. She was constantly worrying about everyone and trying to help them in between doing her own thing. They were all grown – her age – and assured her that she didn't need to do so and should focus more on her. She couldn't help it though. They were the greatest family she had ever had and she needed to make sure that they were taken care of. She could still have fun and party with them but she was usually the one who would end up worried about how much everyone else was going to drink and would abstain from drinking so she could either drive them home or stay up and clean up the mess and make sure nobody got raped. It wasn't uncommon for someone to spike her soda to get her loosened up though. Still, she loved her family, she loved their loft, and she fucking loved her career.

She moved to the balcony where she stared over the street as people hustled to work. Behind her she could hear the sound of four legged beasts rushing out of their sleep to devour their beefy breakfasts. She smiled to herself and hummed, taking a seat on the ottoman that Elijah had moved outside a couple of weeks earlier. Today was one of the rare days when she had nothing on her schedule. She might get a call at some point for a walk-in appointment for a tattoo, but she doubted it. Her clients knew that she was generally too busy for that. She thought about going to the beach or maybe just laying about the house all day. She rubbed the back of her neck and cringed as she remembered that she needed to go out and buy more concealer to cover her psoriasis for the next month. She needed to refill her prescription too. Frowning, she leaned back some and let her vision go blurry as she withdrew into her thoughts, nibbling on the bar shoved through her tongue.

---

Shailene had heard Evangeline when the other entertainer first started moving around. As much as her friend liked to be fair, nice and generous by constantly quieting her actions and voice, Shay would always be awoken by even the faintest of sounds. Since her time in college, she had learned that being lost so deeply in sleep was not always as enjoyable as others would care to believe, or at least she had not found it too enjoyable. Perhaps it was mainly because whenever she would sleep deeply and actually be less aware of the outside world, she dreamed. And not all of her dreams were pleasant. No, some of them crept into unwanted territory and before she knew it, flashes of dimly lit rooms, breathless sighs mixed with harsh gasps, and sharp pain followed by the scent of blood and muskiness invaded her system. During those times, Shay would awaken, never screaming, but on a gasp and glazed with a thin sheen of sweat with an ickiness on her body that could not be washed with the black soap she used. So, she had learned the art of sleeping lightly, never going deeply into that dark terrain where one's soul truly and fully rested. While yes, it required her to eat foods that built energy and the like, she was willing to make it work. And no, she was not going to acknowledge what having these dreams and avoiding them meant - that she had not gotten over her own trauma. No, she was going to pretend like that was not a thing. Like she always did. Like she planned to do for as long as she could.

Still, Shailene refused to move. She knew that she would be welcomed with companionship and eccentricity that only Evangeline could possess. Well, maybe Jeremy had it too, but that wasn't the point. The point was that despite the fact that she could have simply drifted into another room and filled her time with meaningless anything that would eventually lull her back to sleep, she did not. It was still early in the morning, after all. She could make out the darkness of the skies through the barely-closed blinds of the window her bed was currently closest to. Instead, Shay chose to lay there, body still warm and slightly heavy from the slumber it undoubtedly wanted to return to. She would never be able to say when she had drifted back to unconsciousness, but she was aware that she had when she awoke again - this time to the smell of saltiness, heat, pepper and egg.

Evangeline was cooking.

Moaning softly, Shailene dragged herself out of the bed and shut off the alarm on her phone before it could go off. Even on days when she had nothing to truly do (much like today), she always set an alarm. And much like today, she never actually needed it. Perhaps it was some biological clock that Shailene had never been aware that she had or something, but she always winded up rising before her actual set alarms. It was puzzling, but not one that she felt like solving at this moment. Instead, she grabbed one of her fluffy towels and trudged to the bathroom where she indulged in a hot shower. It was a quicker one that the one she had taken yesterday, partly because she had needed to do an intense moisture reconstruction with her hair. Despite what anyone told you, turning your hair various shades could do something to the strands and no one's hair was immune to heat damage and the other various issues. And yes, while her label and current manager would tell her that they could always get her into a good salon, what they did not understand was that a lot of her hair products were natural. She used a milk moisture conditioner after a very much basic shampoo. Afterwards, while her hair was sitting with the conditioner, she would comb through the small and tight curls, carefully detangling them. After that, she would do a hot oil treatment with almond oil, which actually consisted of her placing a plastic cap over her hair while she took a long hot shower. Afterwards, once the hair was blow-dried she would add shea butter and decided to wrap the hair for the rest of the evening. So, when she would be ready to go about her day, the shoulder-length locks would be their usual thick, lush, and absolutely soft goodness that gleamed beneath the California sun's rays.

"Jer," Shay called when she emerged from the bathroom and was on her way back to her shared bedroom. She tapped on the bedroom door beside her own twice before calling again. "Wake up, you've got class in about three hours and you know how long it takes for you to be ready." Shailene didn't really worry about Jeremy as much as her words would have you to believe. In fact, she wasn't particularly in a rush herself. He only held two sessions of dance classes on Fridays and while she typically showed up for them, this wasn't a necessity for her. The issue was that Jeremy Kwan liked to take years getting his life together before heading out and it never had anything to do with eating or getting dressed. The idiot would be posting something on YouTube or trying to finish the level he did not complete the night before, which would leave him scrambling at the last minute to shove a breakfast sandwich down his throat. Smirking at the memory, Shailene returned to her room, dried off, and applied cocoa butter to her smooth caramel skin. Afterwards, she threw on some leggings with a plaid shirt wrapped around her waist, a gray crop top with a black sports bra beneath it, and a pair of sneakers. Just to add a little style, she threw on a Harry Potter necklace and a chunky punk-rock sort of bracelet that had silver chains. Satisfied, she pulled off her bonnet and then her wrap, combing down her luscious locks so that they fell evenly around her shoulders in a waterfall of light gold.

"You do know that I could have helped with the cooking," Shay exclaimed when she finally emerged from her room and entered the living room area. She saw Evangeline on the balcony and before going to confront her friend, went to the dining room table where there was a bountiful of food. Her stomach grumbled in appreciation. Shailene stacked a plate with two hash browns, an omelet with cheese, and three pieces of sausage followed by two pieces of the bread she had picked up from the bakery yesterday. Balancing the plate in one hand, she went to the kitchen and put on a kettle for hot water and then put on the coffee maker. The others liked coffee, she preferred tea. To satisfy herself while waiting for the tea, she grabbed a glass of orange juice before approaching the balcony where her friend still sat. She grinned at the redhead, teasing. "Leave it to you to do everything by yourself. I'm beginning to think I'm not needed, Evan." Still smiling, she sat in one of the other chairs with her legs folded beneath her lithe body and set her cup down on a small table. "The coffee machine is on and I'm making tea, do you want any?"

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The duvets covering the bed called to her, beckoning her to remain wrapped in their plush embrace. Genevieve smiled as she hovered in and out of slumber, rolling over. A slender arm fell to her side, falling onto scales. She gave a soft chuckle as she opened her eyes slowly to see a massive iguana staring at her through dark eyes. “Well, good morning to you, my darling.” She continued lying there, picking up the reptile gently and placing it atop her chest. “How in the bloody hell do you keep getting out of your cage? I suppose I should take it to be a sign that you'd prefer to roam the loft.” She spoke to the creature as she would speak to a human being, letting her fingers massage the top of his head gently. “Very well, then. But it'll be your own fault if you get stepped on.” She gave a massive yawn and swung her feet onto the floor, peering around the room. It seemed as though her roommates had already gotten up and begun their day.

She gave a shrug and placed Roger on the floor, watching as he scurried off to who knows where. “Quiet day. I could go out and pick up Evangeline's concealer and prescription after breakfast and that leaves me time to work on her social media accounts.” She talked to herself in a soft murmur as she slipped herself out of her pajamas, arbitrarily tossing them towards the hamper. She didn't check to see if they'd made it in – which they hadn't – as she slipped on a plain, thin shirt and a pair of jeans. She hardly bothered with her hair, simply tousling it just a little bit. Satisfied with her appearance, she grabbed her netbook and moved through the loft to follow the scent of freshly cooked breakfast. Ah, Evangeline. Their beloved mother hen seemed to have gotten up early again to make sure they would fill their bellies before beginning their day. That was rather lovely of her. It had taken her some getting use to when the two of them had met in college, the Cajun's sweetness. But it proved to be a refreshing thing.

“What sort of trouble shall we thrust ourselves into today?” She beamed a brighter smile – Though it was perhaps a bit dingier than usual due to the massive amounts of coffee she'd been consuming lately. Evangeline kept telling her to brush her teeth before she passed out but Ginny simply didn't listen. She'd get to it – Eventually. She gave another wide yawn, stretching out to see where everyone was positioned; Evan and Shay seemed to be enjoying a conversation on their balcony, Elijah was headed towards them. Her head craned to see Vi sitting by her lonesome at the dining table with tea and food. Ginny moves to the kitchen to prepare her own plate, grabbing only a blueberry muffin and a ham and cheese omelet. She grabs a glass of orange juice and moves to sit in the chair adjacent to the resident seamstress. “Good morning, darling. Faring well?” She was rather chipper, though she still held her trademark smirk while she glanced over to see the loft's animals chowing down.

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Evan glanced upwards at the sound of people moving around reached her ears. She smiled as her friend Shailene came to join her on the balcony, offering a cheery “Bonjour” before turning to look back out at the Hollywood sign. She loved being able to see it from their balcony, an easy feat since they lived on the top – ninth – floor of the building. “Well, cher, you know dat's just not true. I need you for good comp'ny.” Evan gave a light chuckle as she spoke with her Cajun twang. She was more than capable of speaking in an “educated” manner – She called it “talkin' like a Yank”. But she preferred to keep to her native accent unless a job called for it, pronouncing “I” as “Ah”. It wasn't as thick as some Cajuns, whom one could hardly understand. “But, no. I'm fine. I'll get something when everyone else eats.” Evangeline always liked to make sure that everyone got their fill before she would eat anything. She was a bit overtly kind, especially when it came to her friends. She glanced up to see that Eli, Vi, and Ginny had all risen as well. She leans up just a bit, placing a kiss on Elijah's cheek. “Bonjour, beb.”

She turned a bit to see Genevieve, a girl with enough attitude for them all, sitting down with Vi, the more silent of those in the loft. “Mornin', y'all.” She stretched out with a large yawn and pulled out her phone to see that she had a text message. Her eyes lit up and she gave a high pitched squeal before jumping up, peeking over the balcony. She gave another squeal and attempted to turn around quickly, much to her own demise. She caught an ankle behind her leg, tripping over herself. “I'm okay! I got it!” She scrambled back to her feet and zipped into the kitchen. Genevieve watched her friend with an amused expression as she prepared a large plate, sliding it onto an empty placemat on the dining room table. “Oh! I forgot to mention dat we gonna have a new roommate – Eli, you know 'im. My friend Basil – I grew up wit' 'im – was in a real bad place and he needed some support so I told 'im he could move in wit' us if'n he wanted to. He said 'no' at first but he jus' texted and he's outside right now! Y'all be nice, okay?!” She spoke in a rush, squealing happily again as she clasped her hands and ran to the door, rocking on her heels with pent up anticipation oozing out of her pores.

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Basil woke to the sound of his roommate getting laid.

Again.

He sighed and shook his head as he rose from bed, placing his feet on the floor and hands on his head. He was surprised that Mitchel got so much ass. He wasn't exactly a “10”. The guy was a geek and looked more like he should still be living in his parents' basement in a suburban neighborhood. The guy was a hell of a sniper for Call of Duty though. Still, he didn't like it here. It was nothing personal against Mitch, just a desire for a shift in his life. He realized it more and more as he stood and walked around the apartment silently. It was small and dirty, filled with the scent of unwashed laundry, sex, man sweat, and stale pizza. He needed a change of scenery and he needed it quick. Luckily for him, his name wasn't on the lease so he could leave any time that he wanted and the only consequence to deal with would be Mitch's bitching. He could live with that.

The broad-shouldered man gained a look of determination and quickly headed for the shower, leaving his clothes on the floor. He went into deep thought as he bathed, closing his eyes while the scent of Axe Dark Temptation floated around him. He pushed down the nightmares from the previous night as he wondered what would await him at his new home. Evangeline said that she lived with five other people that specialized in working within the entertainment industry. He furrowed his brow as he tried to recall what she had told him... There was Genevieve, her personal assistant. Apparently she was British and had an attitude. Then... Elijah. He remembered Elijah from the times that he had flown to New York to see his sister. He was an alright guy. A bit of a weirdo, maybe. But he was a good guy. At least he'd know more than just Evangeline when he got there. Though he hadn't spoken to Elijah since Winnie's death. Then there was... Shailene, she said. She was a dancer and a singer. He hadn't seen any pictures but Evan said she was gorgeous. He knew already that he might butt heads with Jeremy. He sounded a lot like a female when Evan described him. Then there was Vi – a simple enough name to remember – who was a seamstress.

He was certainly going to be the odd one out.

As he exited the shower he began to worry that perhaps they wouldn't like him. He was a hard pill to swallow for most people. He had figured that out when he got out of the Marines. He wasn't sure if he minded though. Ever since he had gotten his job as a substitute teacher, that was his life. He only worried about himself and the kids. He didn't even really worry about getting laid anymore because he never had the time. Well, he had the time. He just didn't want to waste it investing in a girl who would end up leaving him. They always left. Just thinking about it only depressed him more and encouraged him to leave. He threw on a shirt that he was sure he hadn't washed in a week along with a pair of loose whitewashed jeans. There was a particular funk to his clothes, an issue easily remedied with a heavy spraying of Axe and an application of deodorant. Mitchel didn't seem to be stopping any time soon, making it less difficult for Bas as he began to box and load up his things, taking them out to his truck. He didn't really have a lot besides his PlayStation, toiletries, and clothes. He had a few more personal effects like trophies, medals, letters, and pictures but everything he owned could be fit into three boxes and two duffel bags.

He gave the place one last look, even taking the small kitten that he had found wandering the alley beside their apartment complex, before loading himself and his fuzzy companion into his truck and headed out. He pulled out a piece of paper that Evangeline had given him to recheck the address, gripping the steering wheel tightly before pulling out of the parking lot. The streets were congested so a fifteen minute drive became a thirty minute drive. He was immediately impressed with the outside of the building and all the nice cars parked in the parking lot. He turned of his truck and sat there for a minute before pulling out his phone. He stared at it blankly, thinking about his decision. Did he really want to do this? It wasn't like he could go back to Mitch's; He had taken all of his stuff out, taken the cat, and hadn't left rent money for the month. Or bill money. There was no way that he was going back and listening to that guy bitch about it for the rest of the year.

He sighed and began to text, hitting send quickly. Grabbing his little fluffy kitten, Jarhead, he exited his truck and moved towards the building. He had to stop after hearing a squeal, looking up to see a flurry of red hair heading away from a balcony. That damned girl. He rolled his green eyes and continued his walk, turning it into a jog that continued up all nine flights of stairs. There was an elevator, yes. But he decided to take his time getting there. “What have I got myself into dis time?” He spoke to himself as he came to the door with large markings, identifying it as 9G, raising his hand to knock. The first knock was soft and hesitant. The second one was more confident. The third knock became a drum beat as he put on his happy face and prepared to greet his old friend again.

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Shailene simply shook her head and ate when Evangeline explained the reasoning behind not asking for help, not that Shailene had been too surprised. Evan did this a lot of the time and Shay would either, remind her that did in fact have help and that 'Mama Hen' didn't need to do everything by herself, or she would simply take over the kitchen at some point in her day. As she paused from her omelet sandwich - she placed half of the omelet in between the two slices of bread (it's delicious, don't ever knock it!) - and took a sip of her juice, she heard the kettle's smooth whistle. Excited, Shailene rose and would have continued walking into the house had Evangeline not jumped up so excitedly. The girl tripped and Shailene winced/watched in fascination as Evan got herself together only to start shouting a mesh of words back at them. Shaking her head amusedly, Shailene followed the redhead back into their loft, hearing a mixture of "old friend," "new roommate," and something about "be nice." She offered an "Hey, Elijah," over her shoulder, in pursuit of hot tea.

"Morning, guys. How did you all sleep?" Shay inquired, stepping to the very much ready water. A fruity scent mixed with a subtle spice lingered in the air and she followed the direction to Vi at the dining room table. "That smells like heaven." It really did and Shailene was half-tempted to ask for some of Vienna's tea when a very exhausted-looking Jeremy dragged himself into the room, a video game case in his hands. He rubbed his eyes groggily.

"What the hell is Evan going on about? I could hear her through my two pillows and blanket," he whined, though it sounded more like a groan. Jeremy would never look into it, but Shailene was beginning to think he actually had a serious caffeine addiction. He almost always needed at least two cups of coffee in the morning and then two more in the afternoon, and if he had neither, he was in a terrible mood. Which would be completely and utterly out of character, kind of how he was right now.

"One, you look like shit. Coffee's over there," she stated bluntly.

She didn't sugarcoat many things, but she wasn't typically the bluntest person out there. It just so happened that Jeremy's aura was darkening hers and part of it, she knew, was because he was working himself tired. He and his ex/business partner were having quarrel after quarrel; she had heard him having another one on the balcony yesterday evening as soon as he had come back from work. Afterwards, to appease his mind, Jer had went to volunteer at the HUB as a fill-in DJ and didn't come back until a little after two in the morning. And he was helping her choreograph a routine for her Power video? He was exhausted, no doubt.

"Two, something about a new roommate," she explained soon after and, forgetting to ask about Vienna's tea, reached into one of the cupboards for her chocolate chai black tea. Jeremy was pouring his vanilla creamer into his coffee on a yawn, a larger mug than anything Shailene would ever need holding the hot liquid. "And if you're really tired, you could cancel classes today. It's Friday, no one's going to complain." Jeremy glowered before glancing at her plate idly.

"Someone's got a meat craving again?" He teased quietly. Shay rolled her eyes and continued to steep her tea, wondering about this new individual Evangeline was bringing into their folds.

"Shut up." Meanwhile, Jeremy glanced back at his friends, who were currently devouring food. Leaving his creamer on the counter for Shailene, he turned to them and began walking towards the food, giving everyone a wave.

"G'morning, guys," he exclaimed, though the cheeriness had not reached his voice yet. Another cup, food, and a hot shower would accomplish that feat. Jeremy grabbed a plate and stakced on a waffle, an omelet, two hash browns, and four pieces of sausage - which would seem like a lot, but if you had his appetite, you would understand the ease in which he could burn all of this off. He sat at the table and began to munch idly, needing the food to fuel his energy. Especially if he was going to deal with that bitch person today.

---

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"Good Morning, Evan," Elijah responds lightly, any morning's grogginess cleared from his voice by his shower and breakfast. When he had first met the girl, Winnie had already gotten him used to pecks as platonic greetings, but had he met the cajun girl before that the casualty of her action likely would have flustered him a little bit. Well, perhaps this isn't saying much; a good deal would have flustered him more prior to his living in New York City for a couple of years. He's considered this before, and found himself amused at the memory of his great naivete back then. He is still idealistic in many ways, but far more exposed to the world than he had been when he arrived at Juliard, a sheltered Mormon boy who had experienced death but nothing in terms of corruption.

He takes a long drink of his orange juice and jumped out of the way when Evan suddenly collapsed into a run towards the door, speaking in a fast, excited manner which was almost difficult to piece together. All Elijah needed to hear was Basil and new roommate, though, to know what was going on. Basil had been, --is, he reminds himself-- his ex-fiance's elder brother. Eli had only seen him when Basil came to visit Winnie and then, later, at the funeral. Thus, he can't help but associate the other man with the deceased woman. It's been several years now since Winnie's death, of course, and while he was volatile at first Elijah has by now come to terms with her passing. That doesn't stop the mention of Basil from temporarily throwing off his center of gravity. He falls very slightly, but not so much that he cannot catch himself with a firm grip around the balcony's railing and a solid stance of the legs. His orange juice suffers for it, some pouring out onto the pavement far below them [and luckily not on to some poor passerby's head].

With the hope that no one had noticed his slight faltering, though it is almost certain that someone does, Elijah replaces his smile and walks back into the loft, the kitchen/dining area specifically. There, his food had been left unattended and he is quick to pick it back up again and place himself at the table with a few of the others. He has pushed through much of the eggs when three knocks sound at the door. He hears even the softest one, of course, for part of him has been waiting for it. Well, it may also be attributed to the fact that he has very sensitive ears, but that would be avoiding the issue.

Polite as usual, Elijah figures it would be best for Basil to be greeted by the two familiar faces in the apartment. The fact that their only connection is a dead girl might become slightly awkward, but he feels obligated to go and greet Basil all the same. So he stands up, his poor food abandoned once again, and walks over to the door where Evan, and now Basil, stand.

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Vi smiles, a close mouthed twist of the lips for she dislikes her toothy smile, at Ginny when the girl sits at the table along with her. This normally would be answer enough for the quiet girl, especially after as little hours of sleep as she has had, but she ventures further in a soft, groggy voice. "I'm well. And you?"

But her words are likely forgotten as Evan strides into the room, greeting everyone cheerily before rushing to the door with an earnest sort of look on her face. Vi watches her with admiration; she looks at most of the people in the apartment like that at some point or another, actually. They all have personalities which draw people closer and fill up a room, even Elijah who may seem more average at times being able to warm a crowd. It's something she's envied since childhood, and truth be told part of her reason for moving in may have been a hope that it would rub off on her. Little luck, as of yet.

As Jeremy and Shay move into the dining area as well, Vi half watches them and half considers the strange expression on Elijah's face before he stands up and heads over to Evan. I wonder what sort of person this Basil is, she considers, To make Evan so excited and Elijah rather. . .anxious.

Truth be told again, Vi is slightly nosier than she'd perhaps like to be. This runs in the blood, given her father had been equally so. Jeremy then sits down at the table with a greeting and a plateful of food that would seem better placed in front of an orc. Her eyebrow raises slightly, an almost unnoticable movement, though she knows he can eat it all with ease. "Morning," she returns. The bags under his eyes would rival hers, though his is paired with a coffee addiction that may be hurting the situation more than it helps it.

Vi yawns, and returns to eating her food.

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“Beb! Comment ça va?!” Evangeline greeted her friend excitedly and threw her arms around him in a tight hug. The sound of loud and uncomfortable mewling forced her to back up quickly, her eyes widening at the sight of the small kitten he held in his hands. “O-M-G-O-S-H! You even took Jarhead!” She gave a soft laugh and reached out to the kitten that batted at her fingers, wrapping its small paws about it and gnawing on it. Basil smiled softly and passed the furball to his friend only to have his hand taken, pulled indoors. He closed the door behind him before turning to face the people before him. His green eyes regarded Elijah for a few moments before he found himself being pulled to a table where there were more people. “You go 'head an' eat somethin' because I know you ain't had anythin' to eat yet. I'll go and start bringin' your stuff up. We'll figure out the room arrangements whenever.” She gave yet another delighted squeal before setting down his kitten and squeezing him in another hug. He was rather used to her eccentricity and wrapped her in a tight hug as well. “You really ain't got to, ma cher.” But it was no use, she was already moving towards the door.

When she had finally left, he couldn't help but to wish that she hadn't. He sat in front of a large plate now, fiddling with his dog tags. He finally managed to look up and offer his most charming smile to those that were around him, waving to Elijah. “S'been a while, Eli.” He ate the food – Well, devoured was more like it. Genevieve watched on curiously as the man went through the breakfast as though he hadn't eaten in days. “Slow down, cowboy. You might choke,” she snickered. Basil turned his gaze on her and gave a grin that was rife with waffle and syrup remains. “You must be Miss Genevieve.” The blonde gave a smirk and ran her fingers through her hair. “The one and only. Don't tell me my darling Evan's been crowing about me.” Basil gave a soft laugh before taking a quaff of orange juice. Teeth reasonably cleaner, he gave a nod. “She's been sayin' a little bit about all y'all.”

Evangeline was absolutely giddy as she danced about downstairs, humming to herself. She found his truck easily enough and moved to the back, admiring the motorcycle, squealing to herself. “So coool!” The cheery Cajun easily made her way into the bed of the truck, grabbing his duffel bag first and slinging it over her shoulder. She crinkled her nose as she tried to decide which box would be lighter before seeing just how few things he had. A sadness crossed her face as it had the day that she had left him last week. She hated that he had felt so much shame that it took him ages to tell her that they were living in the same town. She had faith that moving him in with she and her colorful roommates would help him be happier. She knew the consequences of it and had no doubt that she'd get a lecture later from Ginny, Shay, or Jeremy about moving in an extra person without first consulting with everyone else. Though, in her defense, she didn't tell them because she didn't think that he'd take her up on the offer. He did say no when she asked. Still, it was a bit rude to the others. She issued a light sigh and stacked all three boxes on top of each other before carefully maneuvering her way out of the truck.

She found that it was easier to simply to traverse over the roof, down the windshield, onto the hood, and down to the asphalt. She smiled, finally, and walked very carefully towards the building, peeking around the boxes.

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