[attr="class","title"]setting: lower slateport, apartments

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The walk over to the apartment was quiet — but not uncomfortable. It was a comfort to Jayden, knowing that despite everything that had happened between them, he could find solace in knowing that his relationship with Cillian Quinn , while fractured, had remained mostly intact. The two of them wandered the quiet streets of Slateport, stepping through the sparkling lights of the Upper district until they fell upon the creaky low-hanging lanterns of the lower district.



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Perhaps once upon a time, he would have directed the blond man to one of his father's apartments in the Upper District. It was not unlikely that many of Dmitri's apartments would have still be in existance, somewhere. Real estate took time to expire, even long after their owners did.



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Unfortunately, he'd found out quite early on that the benefit of staying in one of his father's old apartments were... well, for lack of a better word, less than ideal. It was all too easy for the debtors to find the address and bombard him when the nameplate still read Volkov after all.



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It took a little bit of effort, but getting a shoebox apartment in the lower Slateport district was much more convenient. While certainly more dangerous, and full of seedy figures that would have liked more than anything to strip Jayden of his belongings and then some, it wasn't like Jayden had ever been the kind of person who couldn't hold his own in a fight.



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Well, if it came to it. Which it hadn't.



[break][break] The key gave a discernable creak as he fitted it into the lock, and with a bit of a shove, pushed the door in. As soon as they entered, Jayden placed his arm out, to prevent Gavin from stepping further. Carefully, he pressed his palm against a panel on the side of the wall - self-installed - to disable the traps. There was a brief click, before the light flickered on, and he led them deeper into the apartment.



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It was a quaint little studio — probably only a little more than 500 square feet. As soon as you entered, there was a small hallway where Jayden slipped off his sneakers and placed it carefully against the door. There was a small step up, with some carpet, which opened into the main space. Looking ahead, there was a small bed fit into an alcove and a wooden table — something he'd picked up from Hobby Lobby. If you walked over to the table and made a 180 degree turn, you'd see yourself faced with the "kitchen", which was more of a half-kitchen, with a single stove, fridge and a few cabinets.



[break][break] Quietly, shrugging off his jacket, he placed it on one of the chairs before shuffling over to the kitchen and turning on the gas on the stove. The sound crackled, yet it was flareless. The black-haired man reached into his pocket and pulled out a lighter, to which the stovetop than flickered on, and he placed a small iron kettle on one of the metal coils.



[break][break] His voice, soft, carried easily through the apartment space. "Do you have a preference?"

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