<div style="background-color:#353535; border:1px solid black; margin:10px 10px; padding-left: 5px; padding-right: 5px;"><div style="text-align: justify;">"Stylin', while in, livin' it up in the city, got Chucks on with Saint Laurent, gotta kiss myself, I'm so pretty!"<br/><br/>Charlie blew her mirrored self a kiss with a highly exaggerated 'mwah' sound. Friday nights weren't usually as much fun - most of them, she was stuck on a late shift serving fancy milkshakes to strangers in her roller skates and poodle skirt - but tonight, she was having her own little party in the privacy of her own bathroom.<br/><br/>"Uptown funk you up, uptown funk you up..."<br/><br/>The music pumping from her phone followed her into the kitchen. Charlie poured herself a glass of rose wine as the towel she had been wearing slid down her body and to the floor. Nothing beat dancing around alone in your apartment after a long, hot shower, in her opinion. <span style="font-style: italic">Nothing.</span> Taking a sip from her glass, she threw an amused glance at the damp footprints that lead across the living room floor. The apartment was Goldilocks-sized - not too big, not too small. Just the right size for a single, hopeless romantic nearing her thirties.<br/><br/>The obnoxious buzzing sound of the doorbell momentarily drowned out the cheery soundtrack to her life. Quickly putting her glass back on the counter and wrapping her hot pink towel around herself again, Charlie glanced at the Mickey Mouse-clock hanging on the wall. <span style="font-style: italic">Ten thirty-four.</span> Who could it possibly be this late? No way were the cops coming to bust her one-woman party. It was also unlikely to be her smoking hot upstairs neighbor, but... She lost herself in a hastily constructed fantasy involving him, her, and several more bottles of wine, but was rudely interrupted by another insistent buzz.<br/><br/>"I'm coming!" She yelled into the intercom as she remote-unlocked the door for whoever it was downstairs, then took a brief detour into her bedroom to at least put on underwear. It didn't match, but who matched their underwear if they weren't going out, anyway? People like Library-Levis probably did. Charlie snickered to herself. Levis was nice, but she was very much a librarian through and through. Probably only owned 3 completely identical sets of underwear, washed it by hand, and ironed the panties. <span style="font-style: italic">Or gets it dry-cleaned!</span> A sharp, efficient-sounding knock on the door once again made her return to the normal world of unwelcome intruders on quiet Friday evenings. With a little sigh, Charlie went to get the door, pulling a faded t-shirt over her head as she did so.<br/><br/>"Oh," was all she could say as she looked upwards into a pair of dark gray eyes through the narrow gap between the door and the frame. <span style="font-style: italic">Library-Levis. Who woulda thunk she'd go out past her curfew? Wait, did I tell her to come by?</span> The gears in Charlie's mind were whirring wildly as she unlatched the chain on the door to let Levis in. She wasn't quite a friend, but she wasn't exactly an acquaintance, either. What were you when you'd known each other for a couple of years, worked in buildings next to each other, and talked every other day, but never really got to know each other?<br/><br/><div><hr style="height:2px; width:100%; border:0; color: silver;background:silver;"/></div><br/>Vivienne did not need to look at Mathias to sense the flicker in his eyes that meant she had been given the green light. <br/><br/>"What happened to keeping low profile, Matt?" She muttered as she rose from her chair in one fluid motion, and somehow managed to elegantly stumble out the door along with the rest of the patrons trying to escape the choking cloud that rose from the still sparking equipment. Not once did she lose sight of the boy with the black guitar. Snaking through the jabbering crowd, her progress significantly hastened by sticking out her elbows and occasionally impaling innocent feet with her beloved black heels. After a couple of minutes, she finally managed to close in on him.<br/><br/>"Wow, I wonder what happened," she said off-handedly with a little theatrical, but convincing, cough into her elbow. <span style="font-style: italic">Good God, what a sad haircut.</span> She turned her head to look at the dingy bar. Smoke was spiraling out through every crack it could find, turning the light of the flickering lamp outside an even hazier yellow than before. The demon threw a coquettish sideways look at the level nine soul standing next to her.<br/><br/>"Real shame. You were doing so well." She extended a slender, white hand towards him. Somewhere at the back of her mind, she was vaguely concerned that she could not see Mathias anywhere. She had left quickly, sure, but not that quickly, and she could still feel him lurking around. It nagged at her that he had so openly 'clouded' the area for all other immortals. Black spots were bound to be noticed sooner or later - but she hardly had time to worry about that now. She flashed a brilliant smile at the boy.<br/><br/>"I'm Vivienne. You?"</div></div>