Gold sighs and with a flourish he points toward the door behind him at the back. "Follow me up the flat, then." He leaves the last broken items for the morning; after some time re-centering himself he should have enough in him to mend them.
The door leads into a small corridor for stairs, a deadbolted, nondescript door that would lead out, allowing one to take out garbage without being in view of the street. A single but strong lightbulb burns above, leading to a landing one floor up and an additional locked door. The smaller man fishes a key from his coat pocket and let's them in, the flat beyond is simple and elegantly, if modestly decorated, the main room mostly living area and study, with a small sofa and chair, then a small, lit desk, a couple tasteful lamps, a modest television, a record player, and what looks like an old wooden spinning wheel. The smallest portion of the main room is kitchen -- a stove and oven, a sink, very little counter space, an icebox, a few cupboards, and a small table with two chairs -- one of which has probably never been sat in. The two areas are separated by doorways leading to a bath and a cozy bedroom on either side.
Gold retires his coat to the rack by the entrance for the moment, replacing it with a simple apron, pulled over his vest and shirt, at ease with setting right to work.
He doesn't cook often. If he could have heard thoughts, he would have identified a great deal with how he rarely got to the point of being hungry. Usually sometime after overtaxing himself. He woke after storming that base absolutely ravenous, for instance. But it's not like he forgets how to.
And if he is going to have a ... guest, he imagines it will need to be done more often until he is certain how well the soldier can fend for himself.
"Bathroom is through there if you need to wash up," he indicates the way.
no subject
The door leads into a small corridor for stairs, a deadbolted, nondescript door that would lead out, allowing one to take out garbage without being in view of the street. A single but strong lightbulb burns above, leading to a landing one floor up and an additional locked door. The smaller man fishes a key from his coat pocket and let's them in, the flat beyond is simple and elegantly, if modestly decorated, the main room mostly living area and study, with a small sofa and chair, then a small, lit desk, a couple tasteful lamps, a modest television, a record player, and what looks like an old wooden spinning wheel. The smallest portion of the main room is kitchen -- a stove and oven, a sink, very little counter space, an icebox, a few cupboards, and a small table with two chairs -- one of which has probably never been sat in. The two areas are separated by doorways leading to a bath and a cozy bedroom on either side.
Gold retires his coat to the rack by the entrance for the moment, replacing it with a simple apron, pulled over his vest and shirt, at ease with setting right to work.
He doesn't cook often. If he could have heard thoughts, he would have identified a great deal with how he rarely got to the point of being hungry. Usually sometime after overtaxing himself. He woke after storming that base absolutely ravenous, for instance. But it's not like he forgets how to.
And if he is going to have a ... guest, he imagines it will need to be done more often until he is certain how well the soldier can fend for himself.
"Bathroom is through there if you need to wash up," he indicates the way.