The rustling of her new neighbor could be heard through the wall and Jane found it harder and harder to concentrate as the night droned on. At first she thought she could block it out with a pair of headphones plugged into her laptop, but it eventually wormed its way through. She cranked up the volume until Maria Brink was screaming "whore" at the top of her lungs right into Jane's ears. A new problem emerged as her music app began playing a series of favorite songs from her In This Moment playlist. Instead of typing away at her keyboard, she went to town on an air drum solo. The former drug addict turned metal head was her all time favorite singer and she secretly wished to attend of her concerts. She was only twenty-five, who said she couldn't have any fun still?<br/><br/>During her one man show, she'd knocked out one of her earbuds and was caught off guard by the loud, muffled music coming from beyond the wall. She pulled out her other earpiece and frowned as she made out a man singing poorly along with an classic. "Seriously?" she groaned as she checked the time on her computer. "It's after midnight!" Though pretending she was still young and spry, staying up late was not one of her fortes. She was early to bed and early to rise everyday, even on the weekends. The report had consumed her to the point she'd lost track of time and now she was double irritated.<br/><br/>Jane climbed out of her bed and grabbed her robe from it's hook next to the door, slipping into its silky embrace. She stuffed her feet into a pair of matching silk slippers and made her way across her apartment. She didn't really need the robe since she was already clad in her pjs, but she was going to face a man and she felt the need to cover up some. She pulled open her door and peered out into the hallway. Just down the corridor she spotted Mr. Hensley poking his head out of his door. She waved to him as she closed her door and tip toed down to him. "New guy has been playing that racket for hours now. I can't stand it. I'm just trying to sleep, can't an old man get some shut eye?" Mr. Hensley was a bald, short man who owned the ice cream parlor on Glendale and one of Jane's favorite people. "I know, I know. Im going to say something right now. You just go on back to bed, okay? Goodnight, Mr. Hensely." Jane watched him disappear back into his apartment and turned to face the music with a pattern of knocks to the door that echoed down the hallway.