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Post by Riley Emile Frazer on Sept 23, 2011 1:01:00 GMT -5
Every flat had less and less of an appeal. The very first flat, a one-bedroom close enough to the train stations and far enough from muggle schools, had peeling wallpaper and holes in the floor; the second flat, while much better than the first flat, had a stain in the parking lot that reminded Riley of blood. He almost felt sorry for his inexperienced real-estate agent, but they were both suffering through the many colorful locations, and they were both ready to give up on all the rental properties within Riley’s pay range.
Although a professional Quidditch player, Riley didn’t make a lot of money with the Appleby Arrows. He followed his passion, much like an artist, and he paid for it in the end. He came from a lower middle-class family, and he remained in the same earnings bracket when he left home. It wasn’t as if every property he’d seen hadn’t reminded him of the fact that his career choice was rather questionable. In the end, his bubbly real-estate agent, Olivia Welch, convinced him to consider sharing a flat or home with someone else. Apparently, the economy wasn’t so great for everyone else either.
“We’ve an extensive list of renters,” Olivia rambled on, searching through her briefcase. Riley’s eyes followed each and every file folder the woman pulled from the shallow, magic-enhanced case. While the woman juggled her papers, repeatedly dropping them on the floor of the small office, Riley began looking at the lines of knick-knacks on the shelves that lined the office’s right wall. “Here we are! London, right? Distance isn’t an issue—here we are. Canary Wharf. It’s bustling this time of year.”
Riley ran his index finger through over the dust-layered shelving and turned back toward the chirping woman. She had a few files spread across her desk, each one with a photo of a large glass building. He’d wanted something with more warmth, maybe something that didn’t look like it’d sway in the slightest breeze. Against his will, the muscles in his face twitched and his lips curled for a frown. “That’s it then? What about a loan? I’ve got great credit. My family’s had a vault at Gringotts for over a century.” Riley transfigured her two chairs into a more comfortable couch and placed himself dead center before her desk.
“Maybe you could give these ones a chance, yeah? I can owl about a loan if you like.” The poor woman looked absolutely lost, fumbling around with her quill and spilling her ink over her first blank piece of parchment. In an effort to spare them both anymore trouble, he reached over and plucked a couple of files from the desk. There were images of trees swaying in the breeze, of people wiping down windows, and or cars pulling into parking spaces. When he actually got down to it, the flats weren’t that bad; some of the buildings chosen were almost brand new. “That one’s my favorite,” Olivia gushed, pointing to a three-bedroom nestled into the middle floor of West India Quay. “It’s got an interested party too! Somewhere, there’s,” the woman trailed off, once again drowned out by the rustling of her papers.
The place had a small but fitting kitchen, which remained mostly open to the rest of the flat. Unlike the other places he’d viewed, the kitchen had a stove and a refrigerator, and it didn’t have the laundry room built right in to save on space. The hardwood floors had just been refinished, and the three bedrooms offered more than enough space for storage and breathing room, not to mention a guest or a third renter. And the bathrooms, though he cared less about them than the rest of the flat, offered him the necessities and some space to spare. The Quay had a view that reminded Riley of the freedom flight provided him. “I’ll take this,” he grinned, slapping the folder back onto the woman’s desk.
“Don’t you want to hear about the other person or maybe view a one-bedroom?” Olivia kept speaking to him, but Riley was already dead-set on that apartment at that location. He grabbed his light jacket from one of the office’s coat hooks and shot the woman a questioning glance. “By all means, go look. I’ll just,” he didn’t hear the rest about the paperwork, for he’d already apparated to the apartment.
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Post by Constance Rayne McCarthy on Sept 24, 2011 20:58:58 GMT -5
The second her interview with Alice ended, Constance was heading quickly in the direction of the real estate agents office, carrying her soda from earlier until she tossed it into a trashcan when it became lukewarm to the taste. Olivia Welch hadn't completely given up on her like the first two, but in Constance's opinion, she found that she was just a little too pushy when it came to some flats, almost desperate to fill them. At first, the woman made her look at single bedroom flats, at least until Constance pointed out a crack in the ceiling that she wouldn't fix. The others had random stains that made her skin crawl, creepy neighbors, and one man had even walked out the apartment across the hall in the nude, telling her that he could share his bed anytime. Needless to say, the muggle wasn't going to be eating steaks anytime soon.
Her job pay out wasn't terrible, and her inheritance from her late relatives and parents had always given her the upper class status but that didn't mean she liked to show it off or brag. In all reality, if she were comfortable and felt safe in a location, with people she loved, Constance was perfectly content on where she could live. When Olivia had told her that someone else started looking at multiple unit apartments, the woman had hinted at a possibility of a budding romance and hadn't told her anything but the fact they played Quidditch and their name was Riley. Of course, Constance hadn't thought much of that. As she approached a dark alley, Constance glanced over her shoulder before ducking into it, checking for muggles before quickly apparating into the woman's office, reappearing with a loud pop. "Morning Olivia." If the popping hadn't startled her, Constance's voice definitely had because she jumped quite a distance in the air, dropping the cup of coffee she'd been making. Before the china could drop, however, Constance had her wand out and moved it back to the table.
"You just missed the chance to meet your possible roommate! You still are looking at the Canary Wharf, correct?" Olivia moved to her desk where folders and files were currently spread out. "Is that the place you sent pictures via owl?" Constance asked. Her heels clicked on the flooring as she walked over to the desk, taking in the too-clean office. She tried to avoid it as much as possible, but that morning hadn't gone perfectly. "The one in West Quay? It's got a view of the Thames, yes? And I am able to post enchantments to keep out unwanted guests?" She asked, a little surprised that a couch was in place and she took a seat in the middle of it, crossing her legs at the knee as the woman nodded so hard Constance expected her to break her neck with the movement. Olivia handed over the file, and she found herself studying the flat. She rather liked the kitchen and the fact it was open, that the entire flat was wide and spacy, allowing her to not feel claustrophobic. "You're going to have the roommate I've stated about earlier, Riley Frazer. They decided on it today," Olivia rambled on, but Constance wasn't paying much attention. "We also checked your credit already, I am astonished at it's level, when will you be ready to move in?"
"Am I allowed to go do a walk through, and meet my roommate?" Constance questioned, looking up at her with a curious expression. While she wasn't with George... He had been right about getting to know who she'd be living with, and she didn't want to hear him, nor Draco, telling her that it was a bad idea. "Of course, of course why don't you go take a look for yourself, they're there now! I'll have the paperwork ready to sign in a little bit and will meet you both there!" Pushy. That was the easiest way that Constance described her, and as she plucked a peppermint from the woman's candy dish, Constance shrugged out of her hooded sweatshirt before apparating once more to the flat in the picture, visibly stunned by how nicely it looked as the loud pop echoed off the walls. It was furnished, and she was quite the happy little witch. "Hello? Anyone here?" She called out.
WORDCOUNT:: 722
MUSICPLAYING:: Ke$ha
POSTTAGGEDFOR:: riley
CHARACTEROUTFIT:: click
AUTHORSNOTES:: sorry it took so long bestie<3
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Post by Riley Emile Frazer on Oct 7, 2011 1:16:34 GMT -5
At first glance, he counted thirteen windows in the front portion of the two-story flat. Large and covered with rather cheap blinds, the windows lit the entire flat, leaving little need for artificial light or candles. The kitchen bar had a bowl of plastic fruit centered upon granite, almost as if someone had been about to have a snack and vacated the flat. When he looked up at the second floor, he saw a half-wall of glass and a vibrant red sofa and an empty bookcase with glass shelving. All he could think was how little the Arrows paid him and how he could never afford the place on his own. Still, it didn't stop him from circling around the bar to poke around the rest of the kitchen.
“Not bad,” he mumbled as he stuck his face into the right side of the refrigerator. There were cardboard cutouts of food and condiments, which he prodded with his index finger. When he knocked over the large cutout of a ham, her closed the right side of the fridge and opened the left door, the freezer side. “Not much in here. Somebody needs to go shopping, huh?” He jabbed at three empty ice trays and then nudged the freezer closed with the toe of his shoe. “Orange stools, a red couch, and a burgundy throw rug. Looks like Emilia decorated. That's gotta go,” he frowned, flicking his wand at the throw rug. He added some lighter stripes to the rug, which made him grin. The rug just looked like a sick zebra.
He'd just begun to inspect the kitchen cabinets when he heard a loud crack that signified apparition. “Bout time you got here, Livia. This is the place for,” he stood up then, his palms flat on the bartop, and stared out at the strange woman. “Are you lost?” It was a stupid question, really, but he had no idea who the woman was and she'd just appeared in his apartment without any kind of warning, not that she could have given warning (and not that it was strictly his apartment). He didn't really know what else to say to the woman, so he just stood there, the bowl of fruit positioned directly in front of his gut. It almost looked like the large pears and apples had sprouted from his abdomen.
The thought struck him that maybe the apartment wasn't vacant after all, or maybe he'd gotten the wrong place entirely. And then it hit him that she probably thought the same thing at that time. “By any chance, are you looking to rent this flat?” He tried to make it sound as if he were the previous renter or some authority figure, anything to try and get an answer. When Olivia mentioned another renter, he didn't think she'd suggest a flat with a female resident, not that it really bothered him. Then again, he could have been wrong again. She could have been some crazed fan that had been stalking him since he left Olivia's ridiculous office. Subconsciously, the fingers on his right hand twitched; his wand was in his pocket.
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Post by Constance Rayne McCarthy on Oct 7, 2011 3:23:52 GMT -5
She loved the natural lighting, making note about how perfect the flat was even though she was practically already deciding on how she would have to decorate her little corner of the home so it would be both comfortable and relaxing for her when she came home from a busy day at work. Her biggest issue were the cheap blinds, and silently, she removed her wand and transfigured them into something a bit more tasteful before tucking it back into the waistband of her black skinny jeans and taking a few steps to get out of the threshold. She food that the main area was exactly as she pictured it, making a mental note to ask the stager to at least make it a little more realistic and not so... ridiculous was the best term for her. "Draco might not even have anything to say about this place..." She breathed quietly, resisting the urge to squeal or worse, go back to Olivia and kiss the woman for finding her such a beautiful place to live. She was, however a bit nervous to hear George's thoughts... Alice would love it. She felt her thoughts slip into nothing as she made more mental notes, where to set up certain charms for maximum safety as she reached down to remove her heels so she wouldn't ruin the hardwood flooring.
With her sock clad feet silencing her footsteps, Constance walked the first floor and smiled at the sight of the first bedroom. It was spacy as well, the furniture not too ugly as she noticed it was in modern timing. She liked that the flat didn't make her feel claustrophobic, nor was it dark and dreary like Malfoy Manor. Her room was the only one with the windows open completely so she could circulate fresh air through the home. Feeling a bit lazy, she Apparated back into the front room, and as she heard a males voice, she figured out why Olivia had been very pushy to get her to rent a flat with the mysterious Riley. "I think Draco and George might actually agree on something, because I doubt either of my over-protective close friends will allow me to room with him." She thought as she spotted the rather attractive young man standing in the kitchen. "If you're Riley Frazer, I'm not, and yes, I'm waiting for the real estate agent to arrive with the papers." There was something bother her about his name, it sounded so... familiar.
She watched his fingers twitch lightly, and she noticed it was often a reaction for most wizards and she caught herself doing it often as she walked closer to him before she was able to clearly recognize him. Her memory was pretty good when it came to recalling certain things, but she remembered Quidditch players from school like she did the names of the escaped criminals she caught for work. "Former Gryffindor, Position Beater. You started playing in my sixth year." Constance lifted an eyebrow lightly, "I'm Constance McCarthy. Slytherin Alumni, and formally a Chaser and I had made captain my seventh year." She introduced herself with a smile, offering her hand, "I made it a point to remember everyone's name and positions from the past, especially beaters. My ex and his twin nearly killed me back in my third year, so I got a bit paranoid. And before you debate on hexing me, I am on the good side."
WORDCOUNT:: 570
MUSICPLAYING:: Ke$ha
POSTTAGGEDFOR:: riley
CHARACTEROUTFIT:: click
AUTHORSNOTES:: one down <.<
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