Scott Thompson stood before the door of veteran Reaper Addison Draugr. It was a fairly important visit, one that should have occurred about a month ago, just like this, preemptively covering as many bases as possible.

Addison could be frightening sometimes, but that inevitably was in no way the reason he made sure his appearance was top notch, and that he didn't smell, and that his glasses weren't crooked, and that his mouth was good and smelled fresh. Scott actually had something for that. He sprayed a little of the minty freshness from a bottle into his mouth, and with one hand cuffed over his lips, proceeded to give the results a little whiff.

Not bad. I'd make out with it.

It wasn't entirely uncommon that he made sure he looked presentable before he went to visit Addison--though, usually not at her door. He'd just forgotten to earlier, having just recently gotten word of a new mission to send a couple of his Reapers on.

His and her Reapers, that is.

Well, here goes.

Scott knocked lightly upon the veteran Reaper's door, hoping for a sound response . . .

Only few had been privileged enough to see Addison’s room. Even fewer have set foot in it. She was known to keep to herself when it came to her personal matters. Though she was vivacious and talkative most of the time, when it came to her private life most people were stumped. Death was one of the few who could boast knowing everything there was to know about the woman, as was Scott. When her door cracked, it tugged on the chain that kept the secret of her room secure. A single eye peered through the opening, allowing Scott to see the gentle slope of her uncovered cheek, and the edge of her unhidden lips.

“Scotty boy. Long time no see.”

She called, coyly, surprised and delighted to have him as a visitor. Well, as delighted as Addison could get. “Delighted’ for her was equal to not greeting someone with a sneer or a harsh tug on the earlobe. After the greeting and the smile, she closed her door again, rummaging around for a bit.

“Gimme a sec.” Called her voice from behind the door.

After a few moments of waiting, the door to Addison’s room would open wide, revealing a less than casually dressed Addison. Shorts and a simple tank top, along with a plain dust mask draped across her smile. Her room was very small and cramped. Enough for only half a person to live in. It didn’t help that she stored so many odds and ends inside of it, making excessive movement nearly impossible. It was mostly just a bed that sat in a niche in the wall, a vanity with several different masks lying along it, and a smaller table with a lamp. She had many tiny stones, necklaces, newspapers, magazines, pictures, and sewing equipment covering every inch of the room, Scott would be hard-pressed to find anywhere to sit other than her bed.

“What’s the news, eh? You haven’t stopped by here in a while.”

"Uh, heh," Scott awkwardly, and nervously, scratched his upper neck, "They've kept me pretty busy. Sorry about that . . ."

He really did make it a point to visit Addison as much as time allowed. Scott enjoyed being around her; she was energetic enough to make the laziest of people want to get up and run laps. Or she'd physically make them run laps. Whichever came first. Either way, it was commendable.

When she opened the door, Scott stared. Honestly, it had been too damn long since he'd seen Addison. If it wasn't her energy that made him want to spend time with her, than her looks would've been more than enough to make up for it. She didn't need to wear anything special; shorts and a tank-top still looked great on her.

Which actually made Scott feel a little self conscious; all he had was a blue jacket, black jeans, and a white undershirt--well, and his toboggan, but he always had that. He didn't look nearly as good as she did, not as far as he was concerned.

"Well, a few things, but . . ." Scott glanced in her room; he didn't set foot in just yet--he waited for an invitation for that. For all his ludeness, he could be a gentleman sometimes. "Well, first--how've you been? It's been way too long. Almost a month--since, well, that shit went down in Xexoria."

Scott wasn’t the type of guy who needed to fix himself up to be attractive. Some boys could go for days without showers, never brush their hair in the morning, and look like they always just rolled out of bed, and they were still lookers. Scott was one of those people to an extent. No matter what he looked like or did Addison would still pick on him, but she’d always be willing for a quick session of love if the opportunity arose.

“Get in here.” She snickered; the thought of Scott being a gentleman was hilarious.

Addison laced a slender finger around the collar of Scott’s shirt and tugged him inside. She closed the door behind her and set the chain back. With her hands on her hips she smirked with her eyes.

“I’ve been all right. Getting tired more often, but I think it’s just restlessness. What can you do, right? You move when the boss wants you to, and you stay put when you’re told. It’s life. Haha.”

Scott stumbled with the first step when pulled into Addison's room, but regained his composure with the second, and walked with a much smoother grace than before--confident, stable, sly, subtle, all the things Scott could be when he absolutely needed to, on a whim or otherwise. Usually, however, he only retained a cool, casual attitude for his own gain. If it made other people feel more at ease was just arbitrary.

He was tempted at first to step in and put his hands on Addison's hips, but he refrained. Might've been just a little too forward! After all, they hadn't seen each other for almost a month.

"Yeah, I know what you mean," Scott said, instead, "I've been coordinating more assignments and missions than I can even count. Fuck, if I don't get a raise by the end of the month after this--"

Well--what? Ideally, he'd do something, but in the end, he was about as expendable as every other member of the Dirige. If Death didn't want to hear his complaint, he could just send him and get it over with--which wasn't Scott's ideal fate.

He coughed. "Unfortunately, that's what sent me this direction; the big man has another mission for the rookies, has me running around like a headless chick, gotta go talk to a guy a few rows down from here sometime 'tween today and tomorrow, but there's a lot of prelim work with it, so I've technically got time off. Figured I'd come by and see you."

Hm. Ask her to get something to drink with me? That could work. Maybe. Don't know. If she's tired, she probably doesn't want a drink. Damn.