[D2 LA] Deadlines & Commitments (Chantelle's Apartment)

[Chantelle Rossette]

Clad in a light, floral sundress, apartment heated against the encroaching autumn chill, Chantelle lounged on the loveseat, playing a game on her smartphone, stylus clutched in her long, slender fingers. The apartment was clean and tidy, ready for the guests she was expecting through the day.


(( Deadlines and Commitments - The Killers ))

[Jack Doyle]

There was a knock at her door.

[Chantelle Rossette]

The door was opened in short order, "T'Jack," she crooned happily, "come in, come in." Chantelle waved the wooden boy into the old apartment, a relic of the 1960s or 70s, though it had been renovated and updated. The place was roomy for what she paid in rent, the door opening onto an open plan living area, kitchen to one side and lounge to the other. The furniture was modest: a small dining table against a wall, with two chairs, a loveseat in front of a TV on a stand, and an old wrought iron set of shelves that held a number of flowering potted plants.

[Jack Doyle]

"Thank you, Miss Chantelle" he dipped his head as he entered. "I hope it has been a pleasant day?"

[Chantelle Rossette]

"Mais, so far so good," she replied, "can I ge' you someting to drin'?" Chantelle urged the boy in the direction of the loveseat.

[Jack Doyle]

"Anything would be fine." he sat where indicated.

[Chantelle Rossette]

Chantelle swept gracefully into the kitchen, fetching some bits and pieces from cupboards and taking a bottle of milk from the fridge. She was soon heating cocoa with cinnamon and paprika on the stove. “Mais, T’Jack,” her voice was raised just enough to be heard on the opposite side of the room, “before we ge’ down to business, are you workin’? You go’ a job?”

[Jack Doyle]

"Child labor laws make that difficult." he sighed. "I find ways to get by."

[Chantelle Rossette]

Pouring the hot cocoa, “I un’erstan’,” she added marshmallows, dusting the tops with chocolate and cinnamon. “I daresay one of de Freehol’ coul’ fin’ you wor’, ‘ave you spoken to de Queen of Crows?” Chantelle brought Jack the mug, setting it within easy reach on a little table, her mask looking every part the perfect Stepford Wife. Drawing up one of the dining chairs, she arranged herself on the seat, revealing just how far her proportions had changed from those of a mortal woman, tucking her ankles primly under the chair.

[Jack Doyle]

"I have not." he admitted. "I try to avoid being underfoot."