How? How was it possible to have this many channels and nothing to watch? Fine, she could take a hint, it was probably best that Autumn get back to looking through the list of apartments that the owner of Howling at the Moon had slipped her the other night anyway.

A little snooping online now could save her a headache and a whole lot of legwork, which was for the best, because there was zero chance of her touring anything dingy or in desperate need of repair, she wasn't that hard up. Or, she wouldn't be, provided she could drive Elinor well enough up the wall to get her to agree to keep her moving out all hush-hush so that their parent's money kept rolling in from month to month.

Autumn set the remote back on the coffee table and turned her attention back to her laptop and its half-dozen of open tabs. 'Let's see how reliable mr. tall, dark, and helpful really is.' Not that Autumn had a reason to suspect that Zev would screw her over, not when she'd been perfectly courteous and paid for top shelf. If nothing else, that last bit would have him interested in keeping her local. Too many people sprung for the cheap stuff. No accounting for taste, but what could you do?

The first place didn't look terrible and it was close to Howling, in case she decided to make it her local. The second place, on the other hand, looked like it was laid out by someone with zero sense of flow or privacy, it wasn't terrible, per say, just a whole lot less ideal than apartment number one. And almost half the price but, hopefully, money wouldn't be an issue.

The sound of the front door opening stopped Autumn in her tracks. 'What the hell?' Elinor shouldn't be back for several hours. Quickly closing her laptop, Autumn picked the remote back up. One random channel with nothing in particular on it coming right up! And, sure, she might get a lecture for sitting around in her underwear, but so be it.

Portia was curled up in her lap purring away and she was not fucking moving just because Elinor had some thing about propriety in common spaces or some equally prude shit. "Yes, I am in my underwear in your living room and, no, I'm not putting on pants. We're too high up for the neighbors to notice anyway," she began before Elinor had even reached the room. Not that she'd care if the neighbors could see her, a loose black tank and lace panties weren't exactly racy unless you were too old to do anything about them or to vanilla to be considered interesting.