Location: Gramercy Plaza Apt. 202<br/>Tag: Jasmine Calliwell<br/><hr class="bbc-hr bbc-hr--3"/><br/>The voice of Jasmine sounded like an heavenly message sent from<i>Above</i>as the thought that, if all goes well, she would not sleep over the chairs at the train station nor overpay for a room in a motel, with a wide smile she happily replied to the voice of the soon-to-be roommate <<Oh, of course! Sure! No hurry!>>, to wait in front of an intercom was nothing that mattered that much to her, but when she heard again the intercom to speak and invited her up, she felt a certain relief.<br/><br/><<Uh, k-killer?>> that question surprised Sarah that, after a little second to think, giggled <<Nah, If i would be a killer, i wouldn't kill the one that gives me a place to stay.>> followed by an awkward, laugh-less silence. The kind of terrible, awkward silence that drives you to say something else or hope that nobody heard what you've just said, with her heart sinking in the first folder of shame, she heard again Jasmine to speak. *Whew* <<Ah, okay. Sure. Second floor. Left... elevator... last... second... yeah... some door...>><br/><br/>Strolling inside the hall, she felt like a cheap tourist coming for the first time to a location usually outside of her pockets, everything seemed so different in that place... carpets... paintings on the wall... potted trees and flowers <<WOW>> was the only thing Sarah murmured now and then, while trough her thin lenses admired that place that, as far as she've got, would be her usual scenery while going or coming home...<br/><br/>The elevator quickly carried her and her trolley up to the second floor, as the doors dinged and slid on the sides, she repeated what the voice said <<...second floor. Ok. Uh... left... ...and... the seeeeeeeeeecond left... one... or>> despite her vocal reminder of her direction, in order to avoid any error, Sarah looked at each and every door, until the one she was looking for appeared in front of her.<br/><br/>Taking a deep breath and knowing how much the first impression counts, Sarah passed an hand trough her ruffed, coppery hairs, trying to appear less on a rush and adjusted her clothes and, placing her burnt-off cigarette in her empty candy-pocket finally pressed her slender finger over the button and then assuming the usual fake smile that people assumes in front of a door...