Jennifer stepped out of the cab, looking somewhat disgusted at the looks she was getting from some of Bartholomew's... neighbors? Her nose crinkled up as she stepped up to his door, knocking loudly. Her short skirt and stiletto's probably weren't helping the situation, but that was the way she dressed. She wasn't a whore, just using flaunting her beauty.
Bartholomew wasn't expecting company. He was in a ratty extra-large sweatshirt, swallowing his slender frame, and sweatpants that were rolled up to the knees. He had socks and sandals on, and almost dropped his beer when there was a knock on his door.
"I'm not in business anymore!" he shouted grumpily, figuring it was a pissed off ex-client.
"Well then you're in luck. I'm not looking for sex, at least not from you." She added the last part on with a small smile and jiggled the doorknob a little. "Come on, let me in. I'll try not to piss you off more."
That voice... Bartholomew tried to inwardly groan, but he couldn't hold it in. Rising off the couch with a sigh, he straightened his sweatshirt and glanced in a mirror - his hair was standing on end like he had been electrocuted.
"Yeah, yeah, 'm coming..." and he opened the door, raising an eyebrow. "Shouldn't you be with Joshua?"
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"I'm not in business anymore!" he shouted grumpily, figuring it was a pissed off ex-client.
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"Yeah, yeah, 'm coming..." and he opened the door, raising an eyebrow. "Shouldn't you be with Joshua?"
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