It is currently 23:20 Pacific Time on Fri May 30 2003.

Currently the moon is in the waxing No Moon phase (1% full).

Location: the new apartment.

The place has been completely kept clear of furniture, decoration, and most of the conveniences of modern life, in fact. A few boxes are strewn about the new apartment, and Mel appears - to all intents and purposes - to be living out of a suitcase and sleeping on a pile of towels and sheets on the floor in her room. Stark, with only the paint on the walls for tone-setting, the apartment has a distinctly abandoned or 'in construction' feel to it. Mel eats dinner on a breakfast bar, chewing her take-out chicken thoughtfully as she looks around the place.

Salem raps a couple of times on the door before letting himself in. He's got a box from the old place on Red Mill -- one of the few remaining -- and by all appearances it's a heavy one.

Mel slips over to the door to close it behind him, copping a quick squeeze of his ass as he has his hands occupied. "Hey babe," she murmurs. "Had yer own dinner yet?"

Salem stiffens, then gives the girl an exasperated look. "Good God, woman, do you _mind_? And no, I haven't." He glances around the apartment, then back at her. "Picked your room yet?"

"Furthest from the door, yeah," Mel murmurs, giving him another playful slap and slinking back towards the kitchen. "Just been checking out catalogues and furniture stores and 2nd hand places and all sortsa stuff. Was thinking I'd get to do this place up properly from the start."

Salem grimaces, his tolerance tested. Shaking his head slightly, he carries the box into the other, unclaimed, bedroom and returns without it or his trenchcoat. "Go something in mind?"

Mel inclines her head in the affirmative, with a light 'Mmhm', as she moves in a circuit around the kitchen. First, the cupboard with glasses, then the bottle of vodka already removed from its box. Efficiently pouring one, then the other glass, she offers him a drink. "Couple ideas, actually. Just wanted to check with you to get a go-ahead before I started doing instead of enquiring."

Salem brushes his hands off, then takes the proffered glass with a nod. "Oh?"

Mel nods in confirmation again. "Now, I've got two styles in particular already in mind. And given a blank slate..." Her lips quirk upwards a little, in private satisfaction. "They're not hard to separate or make happen. But the decision's gotta be made, first." She tips her drink back. "So."

Salem swallows a mouthful of vodka and leans against the counter, giving her his attention. "Go on..."

Mel lifts two fingers. "Two looks. Your choice." Wandering closer, turning the two fingers into one - pointed at his chest - she draws near enough to tap him there lightly a few times, eyes thoughtful. "First: A very couth look. Very simple, with no clutter, we create the impression of space and clean, crisp colours. Lots of metallic finish, decoration, and furniture, in tone." She moves around him to his side, so he can see the rest of the apartment, as she looks out over it. "It would be simple, yet polished, elegant, refined..." Her finger moves up under his chin, very lightly urging him to tilt his head up as she does - taking on the poise and posture of a lady of pure breeding. "Dignified." She arches an eyebrow, looking to his face for some indication of opinion.

Salem arches an eyebrow right back, eyeballing the redhead with a bemused expression. He grunts and looks away, surveying the near-empty apartment as if visualizing what she's described. He takes a few steps away, then turns back. "The other?"

Mel hitches her shoulder, lifting one hand palm-up as she half-shrugs and smiles. "Something... also simple, in its way. But a bit cosier. Warmer. We find some older things, and the furniture and decorations rather than having a more metallic emphasis would instead rely mostly on wood and browns." She sips at her drink, then eyes him again, thoughtful. "A few rugs, a few more... differently-chosen pictures, and we create an impression of homeliness and warmth. Not quite as much in the way of seeming roomy, and it's hard to remove the impression of clutter, often, but the overall goal is a more relaxed attitude."

Salem brings the glass to his lips and sips again. "Hm." He gazes over the apartment again, considering for a moment. "The latter, I think."

The woman smiles quickly, hiding the expression momentarily with another sip from her glass. "Good," she states firmly, before winking a mischeivous green eye at him. "It's cheaper."

"Not surprising," he says calmly. Then: "How's the roach situation?" Perfectly deadpan.

Mel looks innocent. "Haven't seen any," she notes, sipping at her glass again.

"Have to fix that," Salem replies, with the faintest hint of a smirk.

Mel rolls her eyes and mutters, "Ugh. Freak. I can understand not killing, but inviting?"

Salem shrugs and downs a swallow of vodka. "They'll come of their own accord."

"OK. But no food left out for no reason, alright? It attracts more than just roaches." Mel folds one arm across her waist, the other hand holding her drink to her lips.

Salem considers that for a moment or two, then shrugs and nods with an air of indulgence. "If you insist." He drains his glass and paces back into the kitchen.