Rayne Drops (FFXV)

XVII) Into the Waterfall

~Four Months Before~

"We're here," I announce, shutting off my car and opening my door. Wyn climbs out, one step ahead of me to grab the glass door and hold it open. I raise an eyebrow at him, crossing my arms.

"Ladies first," he replies, half-smiling.

I roll my eyes good-naturedly, stepping inside and waiting for him to follow. Walking up to the front desk, I take a deep breath, preparing myself to deal with the receptionist. She looks up, her short brown hair swaying over her shoulders when she turns to look up at me. Her red lipstick is smudged across her cheek, her brown eyes glaring up at me sharply.

"What?" she demands, looking back toward her computer monitor and typing rapidly.

"I need a key for Wyn Iterum," I answer, fighting every urge to punch her nasty scowl into the back of her head. She rolls her eyes, turning to look up and me.

"Honey, your name is Rayne Callen," she snarls in a too-sweet tone, standing and pressing her palms onto her desk to lean in my face. "Or did you forget that you're the prince's guard dog?"

"It's for him," I scoff, pointing to the Tenebraen behind me. He gives her a soft smile; she snorts, reaching into the drawer to her left. She yanks out a pair of silver keys and presses them into my chest, her burgundy nails digging into my skin. I snatch them away.

"Slut," she hisses. I flick her off on our way to the elevator.

"I see that the staff here is quite friendly," Wyn comments.

I roll my eyes, pressing the button for floor five. On the keys is imprinted his apartment number: 534. I raise an eyebrow. Very funny, whoever rented this place out. I'm surprised to find us alone in the elevator, though not very many people are coming home around five in the afternoon. Typical jobs out here usually end at about four, and besides, this isn't the cheapest place in the world. Exactly why Miss Receptionist hates everyone staying here.

"Just a little further," I mumble to myself, looking at the numbers grafted onto every charcoal gray door. "Here." I jam one of the keys into the lock, twisting, and letting myself into the apartment. It smells clean, untouched. Wyn steps in, waiting for me to close the door before looking around.

The apartment isn't particularly large, but it's not anywhere close to small either. The walls are a light shade of gray, the furniture either dark gray or crimson. Straight ahead is a bedroom door, and out of the entryway is the living room and kitchen, separated only by a breakfast bar lined with red chairs. Wyn walks ahead and leans over the dark couch, pulling the blinds wide open to get a nice look at the expansive city below us.

"It's quite dark in here," he comments, looking around thoughtfully.

"Not to your liking?" I ask, raising an eyebrow. I set his keys on the counter, shrugging off my worn-out leather jacket to reveal a gray shirt. "I'm sure we can find more light somewhere."

"It's not that," he shakes it. "It's the color scheme."

"I can have someone come change it," I shrug, setting my jacket over the back of a barstool. I cross my arms. It's kinda chilly, though.

"I like it," he decides, smiling and walking toward me. "The darkness meets the light, hm?"

"More like the darkness is forced to marry the light," I retort good-naturedly. He nods, reaching toward the keys behind me and pulling one off the ring. He holds it out to me; I quirk an eyebrow.