xp_logs | Homecoming: Amanda

OOC: Posted slightly early as the 'flu is still trying to kill me here.

Amanda gets home from Africa and tries to settle back into things, without a lot of success.

The apartment was cold and dark as she unlocked the door and entered for the first time since that October morning where Angelo had chivvied her out of bed and into the park for a jog. Amanda stood for a moment in the doorway, duffle hanging from her hand, not bothering to turn on the light. Then a noise in the hallway prompted her to move, stepping across the threshold and dumping her bag on the floor before closing the door behind her.

Someone had been and done some basic cleaning - the pile of dishes she'd been expecting to grow mould in her absence was gone, washed and stacked on the draining board. The fridge and the garbage had been emptied too - there was a note on the fridge door in Angelo's handwriting, as brief as he usually was, letting her know it had been him. The herbs on the window sill were dead, however, without anyone to remember to water regularly. Amanda shrugged. It had been inevitable, really.

Abruptly, she turned and headed back to the front door. She couldn't do this, couldn't just come back and pick up things where she'd left them, like nothing had happened. Like Pete wasn't gone.

Maybe a walk and a chance to get reacquainted with New York would help.

***

Jubilee prided herself on her lock picking skills, but she wasn't the only one Remy had taught; Amanda nodded as the lock clicked and withdrew the piece of wire, slipping it back into her jacket pocket before reaching out to grab the handle. She paused only a moment before turning it, the door creaking slightly from disuse as she pushed it open.

Like her place, the room was cold and dark, smelling faintly mustily of dust and stale cigarette smoke. She ignored the light switch, choosing instead to call up the werelight, the small orb's glow muted as it echoed her mood. Someone had been here and cleaned out the fridge as well - Jubilee, probably, in her eternal quest to find her niche within the group, or just testing her ability to break into places - but otherwise the place was as she remembered it. Well, almost; as she passed the television, she turned it back on, the muted sound of a news broadcast filling the empty space. The answering machine light was on, but she avoided it as she made her way to the chair that had several ashtrays - all emptied - close to it as well as a packet of Marlboros, half-empty, along with a used glass that smelled vaguely of whisky.

When she sat in the chair, she could see across the room a framed photograph of an older man. Her throat tightened and she glanced over at where another photo sat, herself, Romany, Pete and Pete's dad again. Christmas 2004. She remembered that day, the feeling of belonging, of family, the first Christmas she could ever remember that hadn't been just another day.

With a snap of her fingers, Amanda killed the werelight and curled up in Pete's chair, pulling her jacket around her.