Genevieve Barnaby's Story

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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.