Tom is putting up a few fliers. He didn't want to run an ad, sitting down at the newspaper to get one set up wasn't his cup of tea.

He'd picked orange paper to write his information up on, in black. Halloween colors just felt comfortable to him, perhaps because six and a half days a week he happened to be a black cat.

While on his forray of flyer hanging he stopped off to send some flowers to his favorite professor. Tom isn't a student of anything but love though.

He's dressed in jeans, sneakers, and a denim shirt the sleeves have been ripped off of as he walks. Another reason he needs to get details of having a place he can come and go from worked out. He needs to be able to access his wardrobe and not have to rob people's clothes lines. His current attire is not at all in keeping with his cosmopolitan tastes.

Hannah, or Han, as her friends know her, is having difficulty remembering what chemicals make up gallbladder bile. She's almost certain that it's going to be on the lab exam in a couple days. Walking down the sidewalk, Han's really been grabbed by a preoccupation; she barely notices the people that she's passing.

It's a nice day outside, the temperature's probably not going to go over 85 today, and the wind is blowing. In Han's opinion: really nice. Still, she's pulled her blond dreads into a ponytail so she can feel the breeze on the back of her neck and worn a grey tank top so she can feel the sun bake on her already crazy-tanned shoulders. In the back of her mind she wishes she had an ice cream cone.

But bile's a green-ish blue, that ought to give her some clue about it's composition. Greenish blue, greenish blue...bright orange?

Roommate?

Score!!

Pieces of tattered wood pulp hang sadly from the tape still attached to the wall. They miss the ranks of their steady brethren. One moment they were all together in camaraderie until someone ripped them forcibly away from each other! The scoundrel.

Han doesn't even bother to apologize for being a grain oriented home wrecker. She's much too interested in the letters and what they mean. Research assistant doesn't pay as much as she needs at the moment, and Han's become attached to the apartment she was able to claim at the beginning of the summer. In fact, she was going to start advertising for a roommate or two and this totally saves her the trouble! Of course they have to be compatible, but Han thinks that pretty much everyone gets along with her so it's no problem.

The world is a wonderful place. Han breathes in deep in satisfaction and smells the flowers. They're over there, outside the florist's, which makes perfect sense. What makes perfect coincidence, though, is that there's a man in possession of fantastically familiar orange fliers. Could things really be this easy?

Yes, she giggles in happy surprise. Yes they can.

"Excuse me!" Han jogs up to the man with her usual air of tempered optimism, "Are you putting up these fliers?"

Tom accepts his change from the florist and nods. "I am." he says taking out his money clip and carefully fussing with the bills.

He'd only just started hanging them up two blocks ago. He hadn't expected it to be quite this easy. It did however reinforce that his time and money were better spent by not running an ad.

His money in his pocket again, he runs his now free hand through his curly dark hair which had fallen in his face while he'd filled out the card to go with the arrangement.

Han barely notices Tom's fastidious attitude when folding the money away. She's not the type to analyze but, rather, learn by experience. She won't know if they make good roommates until she's been living with him for a couple weeks.

"Marvelous," Han genuinely interjects. There's a moment for waiting while Tom writes his little note until he finishes. The girl gladly offers her hand in greeting.

"My name's Hannah Blake. I'm assuming you're Tom?" It's a very real possibility that the man is merely hanging the fliers up for his friend. You never know.

"Yes, I'm Tom." He says taking her hand firmly, yet not too firmly.

This is definitely much too easy, he should have done this ages and ages ago.

There's a coffee bar just a few doors down. He looks towards it. "Shall we go sit and talk over a cuppa Joe?" he offers.

Han can't help thinking that this is all a bit surreal. It's like any minute a Realtor is going to start showing her apartment and camera crews are going to follow her around while she says, "Looks great, yeah, I like that, nice carpets..." etc. Nevermind that she's not the one looking for a place to live. Blame it on HGTV and get it over with.

"Sure, sounds great," how cheesy! This guy definitely has a handle on the situation that Han must have dropped a couple blocks ago. She's going to have to order a couple extra shots of espresso to shake off this "ugh" feeling.

"So you been looking for a roommate for a while?" When in doubt: small talk. At least, that's what she's been told.

"I travel a lot, I've been trying to put it off really." Which is Tom's way of saying not really. "How about you?"

(sorry short, work is killing me. I'm starting to not like it again.....)

Han shrugs and holds open the door for Tom to go in, "I haven't even started advertising, really. I mean I sort of put things off anyway but I just decided yesterday that I needed one."

It's like it's fate or something. Or the Force. Or a coincidence.

"So how old are you?"

"Old enough to know better but still to young to care." he jokes.

"Ha ha, cool," she chuckles, "Sounds good to me." The thing is that Han doesn't really care. But small talk makes her uncomfortable and not making small talk makes her nervous. That, plus she's potentially going to be living with the guy. It makes sense.

It seems silly to go on without telling him where she lives. Obviously, if it's not in a place convenient for the man then there's not much point in continuing the conversation. Han lets him know what area she's in and describes her place. It's a ground floor apartment, two bedroom, one bath, with a patio, economy kitchen, and doggy flap in the door.

"What'chu think?"

"How do you feel about cats?" It's important afterall, perhaps the most important factor for him to take into consideration.

...Han's going through a great deal of effort to avoid mentioning that she currently has a partially dissected cat in her refrigerator. The less weird impression she gives this guy, the better.

Besides. She's going to be a cat lady one day, let's face it.

"I feel absolutely wonderful about cats. I prefer them to dogs. I mean, I love dogs, don't get me wrong, but cats require less effort. That's good. For me."

There's the slight feeling in her gut that she's said too much. She does manage to avoid asking what Tom thinks about cats. It's only logical that if he's asking about them he either has one or is thinking about it. Score one for scientific reasoning!

There's no telling how the disected one might go over. "Are you superstitious?" Because lets face it, plenty of people who are down with cats, loose it completely when confronted with a black one.

"Ha, superstitious? Me?" Han's less than slightly incredulous, "Not at all. My only problem with broken mirrors is that they're a pain to clean up. So you have a black cat? Don't tell me you decorate with open umbrellas, too."

She scratches her head while standing in line to order some coffee and smiles at her own half-hearted joke.

"Why, are you?"

"No, I have a black cat, and like walking under open ladders, but that's how I roll." He teases.

"Alright, alright, I can dig it. I have to warn you," she leans in conspiratorially, "I have an obsession with spilling salt. It's like a disease."

Jk. Lol. Roflcoptr.

Tom laughs. "Good, we can play horseshoes together and then hang them all upside down, and sweep everything out the back door, or is it the front door, I get that one confused."

"You know, I dunno," Han grins, "But tell me all your furniture's wood so I can say all the wonderfully jinxing things that I want."

This is good! He's got a great sense of humor so far and she's not having any trouble getting along with him! She'll just have to move her homework back to the lab as soon as possible and free up space in the fridge.

"Teak, mohogany, and bamboo." Tom rattles off.

Han has a fantasy that one day she'll have a study. In that study will be exotic woods. And books. And leather chairs. Tom might be her new best friend. Best roommate at the very least.

"Nice."

The guy behind the counter asks for her drink order. She decides to pay for Tom's, too, because she's feeling peppy today, "What would you like?"

Tom orders espresso. He wants to make the most of his time, and the energy boost will help.

"What sort of furniture have you got?" He'd hate to clash.

"Ha, wow," she pays, "Well, I'm a third year college student with minimal income. So...I wouldn't exactly call it all 'furniture.'"

She needs help. If there's some sort of inherent 'interior decorator' gene in women, Han's has mutated beyond recognition. Her furniture is the textbook definition of 'clash'.

"Will you be bothered that I have, rather a lot? I sell antiques."

Could this get any better?

"No, not at all! Please, decorate to your heart's content. Will it bother you that I like to cook? Not always well?"

"Just don't feed my cat any culinary failures, he's a snob." That's an indirect admission.

"Trust me, I don't wish that on anyone, not even the disposal," she placates, "So, does your mysterious cat of ill omens have a name? If not that's cool, I'm happy to call him 'pritten' for forever."

Mm, coffee.

"Well, I just call him cat." Tom said. It would seem stupid to name his pet his name in his mind.

"Cool," she laughs, "Sounds good."

Is it really this easy? It feels like she agonized over this decision for nothing.

"So...wow. Um..." she fiddles with her hair, feeling a dread with a loose end and rubbing it in her palm, "Is there anything you want to know about me? You know, before you decide?"

"You aren't planning on moving anytime soon?" He asks. He doubts it, but that would be a big factor.

"Not planning on it, no. I've still got another three years before I'll be clear to graduate. With summer classes. Unless rent jumps too much I'm staying put."

"Good, I'm out of town a lot, a sudden upheaval might cut into my travel times. I need to know things are stable on the home front while I travel to estate sales and auctions." He explains as they walk to a side walk table with their drinks.

"Oh, really?" The slight disappointment Han feels isn't hard to cover. After all, she doesn't want Tom thinking she had any sort of expectations. The truth is, though, that part of the girl's motivation for a roommate is company.

"That sounds pretty neat," she says with interest, "I didn't know that antiques were so mobile!"

She's been rather sheltered under her fume hood for the last couple of years.

"Also I'd need to know cat would be well looked after, I hate having to board him, he likes to come and go. A very social creature. Think you'd dig that?" he asks all smiles.

"Aah, the outdoorsy type, huh? I think I can manage," this said with a smile, "Just so long as he doesn't have kitty diabetes and I have to shoot him with insulin everyday." Mind you...that'd be very good practice.

"Just so we're clear: you're not a serial killer who walks around in his birthday suit and brings his victims home for raucous love making before the slaughter, are you?" These are pretty much the only things that would bother Hannah. "Just let me know so I can plan to be out, hm?"

"My girlfriend isn't that kinky." Tom says with a laugh.

He has a girlfriend? That's cool. If Han ever gets to meet her, she hopes she's nice.

"Good to know, good to know...so, uh, I don't see any blaring character flaws and you've practically admitted that you're not a mass murderer. Do you wanna, like, see the place before you decide?" 'Cause that seems pretty major to Han. Honestly, if Tom says "No," she might get weirded out. Nevermind that he's just some random guy.

"Sounds great." Tom tells her.

"Oookay, cool. When?"

"When are you free?"

"Well," Han takes a sip of her coffee, "Before ten in the morning and after six at night, Monday through Thursday. Pretty much anytime Friday through Sunday."