Sigh. Yet another Friday night. Angel walks home in the dark. It's not raining but everything around her looks wet. The sky grey enough to blot out the stars and the moon. She flips open her commlink, curiosity getting the better of her. Nope, no full moon. She stops by the bin she usually does. Now that everything is digital, someone in this building has been tossing out books. She grabs a couple at random.
Another 20 minutes and she is home. She steps over the homeless in her doorway. She vows her next building wouldn't have a sunken entrance. Walking up to the third floor, It's always the third floor, she listens for a moment at the door and checks the air she keeps on the door.
Opening the door, she heads to the kitchen and pours herself a glass of water. She always leaves the lights off. She always keeps the room cold. She likes these kind of reminders. Cold. Alone. Dark. Alone. She's been here 3 months. She hasn't used any dishes. She hasn't not set any clocks on the appliances. The day after she moved in, she had disabled the wireless connections on all her appliances.
She made her way into the bedroom. Taking the crowbar she kept beside the night table, She props it up against the door. The hook end catches on a bolt she had driven through the door. The straight end hooks on a bolt she had hammer drilled into the floor. It was well below the mid level so someone shooting out the locks would have to know where before they would hit it. She takes her boots off and places them by the window. She takes her armour jacket off. Lifting the window she places her armour jacket on the sill, collar out. She doesn't know if her sister will ever come looking for her. No sense risking it.
Third floor. She could drop 3 floors and be gone easily. Someone following her could not. She climbs into bed with her clothes on. Opening her commlink, she chooses a book to read in it's meagre glow. Lowlight next. Definitely.
Bedtime.
