January 2nd, 2008. Home again, home again, jiggety jig.
Jeff's apartment is fairly large by New York standards. The entryway opens into a spacious living room, decorated in dark, earthen colors. There's a couch across from a large TV, decorated with several stuffed animals of various species and sizes, and several comfortable chairs scattered about. A sliding glass door opens onto a small balcony that normally houses a riot of greenery in the summer. Now that winter's here the plants have been moved inside and cover the coffee table.
The kitchen is equally roomy, and spotless, with all the amenities one would expect from someone who genuinely enjoys cooking. A small table sits at the far end, just big enough for two to enjoy breakfast comfortably.
The dining room next to it has been converted into a study, with a large desk covered in papers dominating the room. There's just enough space clear to hold a laptop computer. Books haphazardly cover nearly every available surface, and bookshelves cover every inch of wall space both in this room and the living room. His current interests seem to be criminal psychology and police procedure, if the nearest piles of books are any indication.
The bedroom boasts a queen-sized bed, two end tables, and an enormous dresser in matching dark wood. More books are piled on the end table, apparently for late-night reading. The brightly-colored toychest in the corner is definitely a new addition, as is the beanbag chair with a blanket neatly draped over it. The chest is stuffed with toys suitable for toddlers, and some of them are scattered on the floor in both the bedroom and living room. His closet is filled with rows of similar shirts, pants and jackets, with the back piled high with various boxes.
The apartment's been decorated for Christmas, with colored lights strung up near the ceiling, and a small Christmas tree stands in front of the door to the balcony. Beneath is a traditional nativity scene, and several still-unwrapped presents. A few are addressed to Bun, and the rest to various people Jeff knows in the Nexus: Hanatarou, Dr. Crane, Sarah, and Nick Wright, among others.
Of note is a bookshelf in the living room. It's one of the only ones not crammed with books. In fact, it's empty, save for a simply-designed brass urn.
Jeff PINpoints in without ceremony, dressed for winter and two large suitcases in hand, which he drops to the ground with a thump and a sigh of relief. He grins once he gets his bearings, peeling off his jacket and draping them carelessly over the back of the couch. He glances down at the suitcases. "Meh. Tomorrow," he mutters tiredly. For now he's content to sprawl on the couch and watch some late-night TV.
The kitchen is equally roomy, and spotless, with all the amenities one would expect from someone who genuinely enjoys cooking. A small table sits at the far end, just big enough for two to enjoy breakfast comfortably.
The dining room next to it has been converted into a study, with a large desk covered in papers dominating the room. There's just enough space clear to hold a laptop computer. Books haphazardly cover nearly every available surface, and bookshelves cover every inch of wall space both in this room and the living room. His current interests seem to be criminal psychology and police procedure, if the nearest piles of books are any indication.
The bedroom boasts a queen-sized bed, two end tables, and an enormous dresser in matching dark wood. More books are piled on the end table, apparently for late-night reading. The brightly-colored toychest in the corner is definitely a new addition, as is the beanbag chair with a blanket neatly draped over it. The chest is stuffed with toys suitable for toddlers, and some of them are scattered on the floor in both the bedroom and living room. His closet is filled with rows of similar shirts, pants and jackets, with the back piled high with various boxes.
The apartment's been decorated for Christmas, with colored lights strung up near the ceiling, and a small Christmas tree stands in front of the door to the balcony. Beneath is a traditional nativity scene, and several still-unwrapped presents. A few are addressed to Bun, and the rest to various people Jeff knows in the Nexus: Hanatarou, Dr. Crane, Sarah, and Nick Wright, among others.
Of note is a bookshelf in the living room. It's one of the only ones not crammed with books. In fact, it's empty, save for a simply-designed brass urn.
Jeff PINpoints in without ceremony, dressed for winter and two large suitcases in hand, which he drops to the ground with a thump and a sigh of relief. He grins once he gets his bearings, peeling off his jacket and draping them carelessly over the back of the couch. He glances down at the suitcases. "Meh. Tomorrow," he mutters tiredly. For now he's content to sprawl on the couch and watch some late-night TV.