<div class="floatleft">(http://i241.photobucket.com/albums/ff7/HaruTokushima/Realistic%20Chars/Jason/ac54c91f-2261-47c2-8595-212b1550f897_zps5811df8b.jpg)</div><strong>Name:</strong>Jason Garder<br/><strong>Location:</strong>Street outside Parker Commons -> Appt 107<br/><strong>Tagging:</strong>Martina, Matthew, Damon<br/><strong>Content:</strong>Shower time!<br/><strong>Wearing:</strong>Running shorts, light jacket -> nothing<br/><hr/><br/>Before Martina could answer him, someone else stepped over. Jason shrugged nonchalantly at the pardon, or at least he intended it to be nonchalant: it still had a certain rigidity to it. He had an athletic grace, but when it came to the relaxed gestures, or dancing, he struggled; his movements always possessed a natural, unshakable firmness. He patiently waited while Martina gave the guy the directions, simply listening and observing. The guy, apparently not bothered by the temperature, had muscle, and if the pants might not have suggested it, Jason sensed that certain air about him, something familiar to him as someone who spent his childhood on a base, who had a father who served and a brother who was currently in the marines.<br/><br/>Shortly, Martina addressed him again, bidding a farewell to put up the flyer herself.<strong>"I'll be there,"</strong>he called after her, and then looked at the guy. He nodded at him.<strong>"Welcome to the neighborhood."</strong>If he had been better dressed in this cold and hadn't been sweating, he would have considered sticking around a moment longer, to see if this guy could be someone he would like to get to know, but Martina had the right idea.<strong>"See you around."</strong>He trailed after the chef, the flyer still in his hand. His jogging felt a bit unfinished, and for something he already had heard about, but meeting two people, however briefly, might have been worth it.<br/><br/>Jason climbed to the fourth floor and walked into his apartment, the place silent other than his muffled footfalls on the carpeting and the ticking of the clock from its place on the living room wall. It was the only decoration he had, if it could be be considered that, with its solid white frame. Art, decorations, held no importance to him. He just needed the basic necessities for a place to be livable. Actually, if someone walked through the door right now, and they overlooked the few dishes in the sink and the couple of coats on the rack, they might wonder if someone truly lived here.<br/><br/>After shedding his jacket, his phone vibrated. He checked it and typed a response:<br/><br/><div align="center"><span class="bbc_u">To: Damon<br/>Msg: All safe. Couple arrests. You have fun?</span></div><br/>Jason set his phone and wallet on the coffee table before heading into the bathroom to get the shower started. After stripping off the rest of his clothes and letting them pool into a heap on the floor, he climbed on in.