<div class="floatleft">(http://us.123rf.com/400wm/400/400/mtr/mtr0810/mtr081000012/3687759-portrait-of-a-beautiful-young-woman-brunette.jpg)</div><div class="spoiler_container"><div class="spoiler_header" onclick="hideSecond (this);" role="button">Mia Havran</div><div class="spoiler_body"><strong>Age:</strong> 22<br/><strong>Detailed Appearance:</strong> Just shy of 5'9", Mia is normally seen in a pair of flattering jeans and a form fitting shirt that accentuates her body's natural hourglass figure. Her chocolate brown eyes tend to dance with amusement and a not so hidden passion while her soft café au lait skin is all the more pronounced by the tumble of light brown curls to the middle of her back.<br/><strong>Personality:</strong> Despite having a bit of a vain, party-girl appearance, the friendly college student would much rather spend her nights at home with a book in hand then out at the local bar. Half-way towards her MA in Art History, she scraps together what she can as a waitress in a local hole in the wall diner up the road to pay for both the classes she attends and the roof over head. Yet Mia is far from the old 'all work no play' type. The openly bisexual young woman has no problem sidling up close to the next person that catches her eye.<br/><strong>Greatest Fear:</strong> Elevators and other confined spaces. At five years old she was trapped in the elevator of her family's apartment building for several hours by herself, since then she has suffered severe claustrophobia and will make it a habit of taking the stairs rather than ride the elevator.<br/><strong>How Long She's Lived There:</strong> Two months<br/><strong>Reason For Moving In:</strong> It's far cheaper than most places closer to the campus while still remaining within easy bicycling distance.</div></div><strong>Location:</strong>Stairwell<br/><strong>Tagged:</strong>Open<br/><br/><hr/><hr/><br/>Stepping into the stairwell from the second floor landing, brunette waves form a curtain around her face as she shuffles through the numerous songs on her iPod. Pausing just long enough to settle on a fast pace song, she lifts her head just in time to step out of the way as Charles passes her, offering a warm smile and a cheerful, "good morning, Mr. DeLane," before she makes the trip down the two flights. Mia sings softly under her breath just as she slips into the foyer, her hands finding their way into the back pockets of her form fitting boot cut jeans as her brown mock-leather boots click delicately along the floor.<br/><br/>"Good things in the mail?" She raises an eyebrow at James as she unlocks and opens her box to pull out a new People's magazine, several pieces of garbage she would throw away later and a phone bill much to her disgust. "I'd be truly shocked to learn of something good every coming via snail mail."<br/><br/>With a disgruntled shake of her head, she tucks a stray curl behind her ear to allow the small diamond studs that once belonged to her mother to catch and reflect the light as she glanced around. Mia still couldn't believe she was here, out on her own for the first time. Although far from glamorous, the first month she lived at the Crest the boiler would make the most frightful noise late at night, it was home until she could afford something, anything better.