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 Posted: Sun Feb 24, 2013 12:48 am
"You're not serious," Avery's accented tones were laced with displeasure as she eyed the shipping crates that had been left unceremoniously on the pavement in front of her flat's building. It was a Class A rental affair of glass and marble, with keycard access at the lobby [videophone to examine the visitor before buzzing them in, for non-residents], and the assistance of a doorman, whose primary function was security during certain hours of the night.
Unfortunately, the deliverers of her latest shipment of books and clothing from back home had missed the memo to bring her belongings upstairs. Or, perhaps, they had simply decided not to bother with the trouble of entering the building without a resident.
Either way, the brunette's brows were furrowed, lips pursed as she reached into her purse for her phone, intending to give the company a peace of her mind and demand that they correct the error--
"Oh," Her hazel eyes caught on firm muscles, the slightly sweaty figure of an athlete. That would be so much faster.
White teeth briefly worried a red bottom lip before she dropped the electronics back into her bag and stepped forward to catch the runner's attention.
"Excuse me!" She smiled. He was good-looking, in a jock sort of way. "Can you help me?" She couldn't be expected to lift things! She was in new heels, with a fresh manicure, and that just wouldn't do.
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Posted: Sun Feb 24, 2013 1:10 am
Ricky's morning jogs were full of interruptions, and this was looking to be one interruption he wouldn't mind in the least. He was checking her out before she spoke to him, and once she stopped him his body language lacked any subtlety regarding his interest in her. He was just shy of a cartoon wolf whistling and howling when he bit his lip with a half smile as he continued to check her out. "I reckon I can help ya out," he shrugged. She had a nice little accent too. He couldn't quite place it. Was that Canadian? He had never heard a Canadian accent before, and didn't even know it was a country until recently. He had thought it to be made up for the movies, like Narnia, or Wonderland, or Madagascar. Oblivious, he placed one hand on the shipping crates and leaned his weight into it, otherwise not recognizing their presence on the street. "Whaddaya need help with?"
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Posted: Sun Feb 24, 2013 1:21 am
He was clearly interested, and that didn't bother Avery in the slightest. She was a woman that enjoyed being looked at - regardless of her interest in the party doing the looking. In this instance, it was helpful.
Her eyes flicked from his posture to the crates. Perhaps he wasn't the brightest, or perhaps she was just distracting him. His own accent was as thick and foreign as hers was to him, but it was charming. Kind of.
Avery pouted, folding her arms beneath her chest as she let her upset cross her features. "The movers just left my stuff here, and it's too heavy for me to carry." She shook her head. "I was going to call them to come back, but," Her gaze shifted back to him, and she took her time moving them up to meet his eyes. "The last guy they sent out didn't have half the muscles you do."
She paused just long enough for the compliment to sink in, before sweetening the deal.
"I could make you lunch?"
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Posted: Sun Feb 24, 2013 10:40 pm
Ricky's face nearly went red with all flattery. He knew he was a good looking guy, but he never tired of hearing it and took any compliment as if it were the first. Unfortunately for him - and fortunately for those who benefit - he took compliments as payment to do just about anything, which made him pretty terrible at making money in any sort of job. Plus she was offering lunch? That pays for itself right there. "Ya want me to bring them inside for you?" he asked, the question with the obvious answer. He lifted the smallest of the boxes to start. "What apartment are ya in?"
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Posted: Sat Mar 30, 2013 10:56 am
Avery beamed at him like he was a very good boy, which, in this instance, he was. There was nothing like a blushing, honest guy to put a girl in a good mood. Especially when he was doing her chores. "Up top," she indicated a balcony with a hand. "Flat 7C."
He'd already started lifting her stuff, and she keyed open the door. "I'll let the doorman know you're doing work for me, then run up and start cooking."
The brunette paused, then, as if she'd forgotten something. Which she had. "I'm sorry, what was your name? I'm Avery."
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Posted: Sat May 11, 2013 3:58 pm
Ricky was a slow-minded boy, and even simple questions like his name often took him a while to answer, especially when he's staring a beautiful girl. His response was slow, it may have felt like the time lapse between March 30 and May 11, but that's probably an exaggeration. It was slow enough he nearly apologized for the delay. "Er, it's Ricky," he finally said, because such things were hard to say. "7C, got it. I reckon I'll get all your stuff up in no time. There ain't an elevator is there?"
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