Sally Bowles (![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png)
thetoastofmayfair) wrote2016-10-04 02:24 pm
thetoastofmayfair) wrote2016-10-04 02:24 pm
Entry tags:
I'm dying to see how this one ends
Sally loves the Bramford. It has charm. It has personality. It has lots of brick and lots of men, and she's enjoyed some pleasant nights within its walls, both with friends and lovers.
Among these is Philip Lombard. Now, Sally isn't there just to see him today. She happens to be in the building visiting Jack and hoping, perhaps, for a chance to see Lip on her way out. But since she's here, she figures she might as well go up a couple of flights and see if Philip's in.
Trips to the Bramford involve lots of very short elevator rides.
She steps out of the elevator onto the ninth floor, brushing her bangs back with her fingers. About to look at herself with her phone's camera, just to be sure she looks good, she stops instead, peering down the hall. There's a woman leaving Philip's apartment, a mere matter of feet ahead of her. It would be, she thinks, awkward if one were to comment on this state of affairs, but it seems equally as gauche for one to ignore the presence of another woman.
Not that she's jealous or anything. Not very, at least. She knows he has other lovers, after all, as does she. But there's knowing and seeing.
She doesn't want to cause a scene or anything. The other woman is rather pretty. She can't fault Philip for his taste, she supposes. "Oh," she says, "I really should have called ahead. There isn't anyone else left in there, is there?" She doesn't want to intrude. For that matter, perhaps she should come back another time, when he hasn't just had someone else. He may not yet be up for another round, after all.
Among these is Philip Lombard. Now, Sally isn't there just to see him today. She happens to be in the building visiting Jack and hoping, perhaps, for a chance to see Lip on her way out. But since she's here, she figures she might as well go up a couple of flights and see if Philip's in.
Trips to the Bramford involve lots of very short elevator rides.
She steps out of the elevator onto the ninth floor, brushing her bangs back with her fingers. About to look at herself with her phone's camera, just to be sure she looks good, she stops instead, peering down the hall. There's a woman leaving Philip's apartment, a mere matter of feet ahead of her. It would be, she thinks, awkward if one were to comment on this state of affairs, but it seems equally as gauche for one to ignore the presence of another woman.
Not that she's jealous or anything. Not very, at least. She knows he has other lovers, after all, as does she. But there's knowing and seeing.
She doesn't want to cause a scene or anything. The other woman is rather pretty. She can't fault Philip for his taste, she supposes. "Oh," she says, "I really should have called ahead. There isn't anyone else left in there, is there?" She doesn't want to intrude. For that matter, perhaps she should come back another time, when he hasn't just had someone else. He may not yet be up for another round, after all.