This is taken from a prompt I tried out on Tumblr (the link is found here: post/116228386649/iggycat-someone-needs-to-write-a-the-fire) and it's the first piece of writing I've done in a while. Hope you enjoy ~

Scarlet was confused.

To put it lightly -

Here she was, standing outside her apartment building in god-knows-what-hour in the morning, clad in only a tank top and shorts, boots sinking in the wet grass, and she still wasn't sure she was even awake.

She certainly didn't feel awake.

The crust in her eyes and the slight breeze of the autumn night should have been evidence enough, but there was a haze to her surroundings, as if she'd just stepped off a rollercoaster and was still trying to get a grip back on gravity.

She could sense the people around her, most of them neighbors on her floor, chattering about something or another, but Scarlet didn't feel like talking. There wasn't anyone to catch up with; the building was small, and everyone knew whatever news there was to know in a matter of days. The only person she could think to hold a conversation with, Émilie, was taking her night shift at the bar.

Letting out a sigh, she rubbed her arms and shifted her stance, trying to shake off the grogginess that enveloped her.

"Are - are you cold?"

Turning her face towards the voice, she found a man standing off to her right. Briefly her eyes skimmed over him, of the blanket wrapped around a muscular, bare upper body that scarcely concealed the slightly less-bare lower end. If she'd been more awake, Scarlet might have flushed from the embarrassment at seeing this guy in his underwear, but at the moment she simply took in what she saw.

Barefooted and with thick scars etched along his skin, he looked like a well-worn warrior, an impression that was ruined by the twitching of his fingers and the nervous expression he held. Meeting his gaze, she shook her head.

"No, I'm all right. Just a little dazed."

He nodded, a hesitant look in his eyes.

"Are you sure? I could - I wouldn't mind -" His eyes dropped to the blanket, but Scarlet quickly shook her head again, feeling her cheeks heat. It was embarrassing enough trying to keep her eyes on his face, but added on to the fact that he was trying to be polite …

Well, she was more awake then she'd thought.

"No, really, that's nice of you, but I'm all right."

His head bobbed a little as he took in her words, and then he swiveled back to the side, the movement allowing the light from the streetlamp above to shine over and reveal a tattoo on his left arm. For a moment she just stared, taking in the etchings of the dark ink forming an array of numbers lined up along the forearm. There was something familiar about the mark, the memory of it hanging at the edge of her consciousness. She furrowed her brow.

"You have to see him to understand. He has these eyes - green, like emeralds or something, that just bore right into you, and messy brown hair - oh, not to mention his physique. Like a body builder, or a god -"

"Are you listening to yourself?"

"Scar, really. I couldn't make him up if I tried. He's got a tattoo too, some sort of bar code or something that's over his arm, and it suits him so well -"

Her eyes widened. Of course. This must have been Émilie's newest mystery man. He had apparently moved into the complex not a week before, but she hadn't caught sight of him with work and all. She had thought Émilie was being dramatic, swooning over a fantasy, but here she was standing right next to him and she couldn't deny that he was as fascinating as she'd described. Hunky, yes, but she wasn't sure about godly. She took a quick glance, noting the tousled hair sticking up at every direction, the scars and wrinkles in his face, the shadows under his eyes. He had obviously rolled straight out of bed, blanket and all.

His gaze flickered toward her, catching her stare, and Scarlet quickly looked away, focusing on the firemen coming in and out of the complex. They were almost done dousing the fire, judging from all the equipment they were carrying out. Her neighbors began to head towards the entrance, but Scarlet stayed in place, not wanting to move until she could actually get back to her apartment. She took another glance at the man, who was staring out at the dark.

Well, it couldn't hurt to introduce herself. She must be the last person in the whole building to greet him anyway (Roland didn't count). Clearing her throat audibly, she turned back towards him and stretched out her arm.

"Scarlet Benoit, Room 126."

He looked down at her hand for a moment (no doubt catching sight of her missing pinky) before responding. His shoulders seemed to relax, and clinging one hand still to the blanket, reached the other out to embrace hers.

"Ze'ev Kesley, Room 129."

"I know," She said without thinking, and seeing the lift of his eyebrow, elaborated, "It's hard not to, seeing that you're new and everything. Your boxes were cluttering up the entire hall last week."

As soon as the words left her mouth she realized how harsh they sounded, but before she could backtrack she noticed the small twist of his lips and the crinkles appearing at the edges of his eyes.

"Sorry about that." He sounded amused. "It took longer than it was supposed to to unpack, and I had an interesting interaction with the man across from me."

Scarlet almost snorted, imagining Gilles's outrage at trying to get to his door between all that mess. Well, now he knew what it felt like, leaving his trash scattered everywhere, as if he owned the floor.

She opened her mouth to reply, but realized with a start how quiet it was. It must have been safe to go back inside, as the crowd in front of them was starting to filter into the building doors. Huh. She'd been so busy scrutinizing her new neighbor she hardly noticed that the firemen had left.

Scarlet looked back at him and smiled.

"Well, it's been good talking to you, but it's early morning and we should both be getting some sleep." She said, making sure to keep her eyes on his.

He stared back just as coolly. "Of course. It's too early to talk, but it was nice to meet you. Hopefully we can meet up again under more … clothed circumstances."

His voice kept its serene tone, but she could see the hilarity lurking in his eyes as he looked down at her. Her cheeks felt hot again.

Oh.

So he'd noticed.

"Yeah. That sounds good." She lifted her chin, determined to remain composed.

His lips widened in a grin, and then he nodded his head towards the building.

"After you."