She'd have a few minutes at most to prepare. If she'd had an hour two she'd have primped herself physically: a bath, a change of outfit, and painting her fingernails. But in a way that'd have been pointless because he'd just seen her. He'd know that she'd passed the day with rubbed-off makeup. On the other hand, Amber knew better than to underestimate illusions. Previous sloppiness could be easily forgotten in new and current radiance.
But for the moment that was wishful thinking. Amber settled for cleaning out the dishes that'd accumulated in her sink over the past few days of solving a not-so-mysterious case after all and gathering the scattered mugs of juice and tea. There were smaller messes throughout, like her overflowing laundry hamper in the bathroom and her unmade bed. She was running low on toilet paper, too. She'd need to restock by after tomorrow.
Amber was rinsing off the last couple of plates when the buzzer rang. Her smile was automatic. Mickey's was fine and all, but her apartment was home, with everything as she liked it. It'd surely be more relaxing to talk to Eric here amongst her carefully-chosen furniture and the drone and flashing lights of the television in the background. Getting off the last of the suds, Amber stacked the dishes into the dryer and turned the tap off. Walking to the interphone, though, Amber winced; maybe instead of getting her apartment all pretty she should've changed out of her heels and work clothes. "Hey," she said into the phone and rang Eric rang. High heels and all, Amber then walked to the front door and unlocked it, waiting for him to come up.
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But for the moment that was wishful thinking. Amber settled for cleaning out the dishes that'd accumulated in her sink over the past few days of solving a not-so-mysterious case after all and gathering the scattered mugs of juice and tea. There were smaller messes throughout, like her overflowing laundry hamper in the bathroom and her unmade bed. She was running low on toilet paper, too. She'd need to restock by after tomorrow.
Amber was rinsing off the last couple of plates when the buzzer rang. Her smile was automatic. Mickey's was fine and all, but her apartment was home, with everything as she liked it. It'd surely be more relaxing to talk to Eric here amongst her carefully-chosen furniture and the drone and flashing lights of the television in the background. Getting off the last of the suds, Amber stacked the dishes into the dryer and turned the tap off. Walking to the interphone, though, Amber winced; maybe instead of getting her apartment all pretty she should've changed out of her heels and work clothes. "Hey," she said into the phone and rang Eric rang. High heels and all, Amber then walked to the front door and unlocked it, waiting for him to come up.