#t garrett

Apartment for Rent.

One room. Kitchenette. Bath. Appliances and furniture included.

Stove, semi-functional. Refrigerator stained pink by unspeakably foul paint-thinner-esque beverage. Washer and Drier units might be stained with blood but perfectly sanitary. Dishwasher moved out with previous tenants.

Keep hash browns in back, left cabinet in case of recurring leak in front bathroom wall from upstairs neighbors. Make for great spackle. 

Bathtub too small and uncomfortable for baths. Presence of hot-water in shower, unlikely. Prep for lukewarm at best. 

Back wall has seen significant damage from what appear to be multiple blade punctures. Large collection of nail holes and irretrievable nails over end of bed where something heavy was once anchored. 

Bed… well used, in spite of notation in lowest shelf at the back of it.

Elissa paused here, picking up her pen and glancing at the notation, which read: “Elissa Romilde Cousland and Garrett Gordon Hawke did not have sex here, and it was legendary. Guardian, 9:31, Dragon Age.”

With a smile she crumpled up the paper on the book in her lap, dropping both into the floor and taking a drink of her beer. “I’m keeping the apartment, Garrett.”

"Really?" The bathroom door smacked against the wall when he dashed back through it, a poorly managed but very emotional smile on his face.

"Yes really. Who would want this dump? Look at it!"

He nodded, his smile erupting full on. “Its the worst apartment. You’d never find a tenant.”

"Did you want to go to bed and not have sex some more?"

"Can I still grope your boobs?"

She rolled her eyes and sat down her beer in the shelf they’d marked, shrugging off her jacket and lying down. “Have I ever said no?”

"Once, but I think you’d been bitten and I’d really prefer not to think about the reasons behind that." He answered, tugging off his shirt and crawling in beside her. 

"Don’t ruin the moment." She snorted, rolling over on her side, not even flinching when he wrapped his hand around her breast and sighed into her ear a sound of pure contentment.

"That movie was horrid, Garrett." Elissa shook her heads as they exited the dim Lowtown theatre and stepped back into the chilly night air. "If that's the man rumored to be directing Hot Summer D's then remind me to stay locked in my apartment for however long they're showing it in town."

She reached into her pockets and pulled out a pair of finger-less gloves, blowing into her hands to warm them quickly and then sliding them on. "Did you want to stop anywhere for coffee on the way home or just go back and attempt to drink until we can't remember the last two hours of our lives?"  She smirked at him as she moved down the sidewalk to the nearby alley they'd use to cut back toward her apartment and the bars, convenience stores and coffee shops they frequented should they choose to stop along the way. 

Things were starting to feel comfortable in her life; that easy kind of comfort that comes when you find yourself surrounded with people who care for you and you finally allow yourself to let them in. 

She should have known it was too good to last. 

"Handball? Really?" Elissa trailed behind Garrett down the stairs of the Kirkwall Municipal Arena. Many called it the "jewel of Lowtown", though Elissa would argue that title more accurately belonged to The Hanged Man, but she supposed it did make it's impact on the parts of the city that fell beneath the shadow of the plate --especially when a massively popular event like handball came to town.

If she was honest, Elissa hadn't known that handball was a sport until Garrett mentioned it, and even then she'd doubted he was doing anything more than setting her up to be the butt of some uncomfortably sexual joke. Handball didn't sound like a sport. It sounded like something that men with unfortunate fungal conditions did in the shower. But as they drifted lower into the half-shell of Colosseum style seats where she could make out the long, grey, alley-like courts straight ahead of them, she had no choice but to give it validation.