The door of the loft flung open. A young man walked in, laden down with two burlap bags. Grimy, black rimmed glasses shined as two bright eyes stared out from behind them. He as a normal sized guy, a bit skinny and not as well toned as one would like. Bright blonde hair shot out the top of his head like a flicker of fire. He wore a turtle neck of a dark red, but was hardly noticeable from under the large plaid coat that was pulled loosely on.
He scanned the loft, pulled a frown and shook his head.
"Ah, the city of life!" He said scourfully before letting his bags drop with two great plops.
He pulled at something at his chest and quickly pulled it over his shoulder. It was a strap and at the end hung a hard case. His frown faded suddenly and he swept off to the nearby table, which rocked unsteadily on top it's uneven legs.
The young mans look glowed as he unlatched the case, pushing the top open carefully. Inside rested a camera, along with a few odd instruments all packed into the crumbling foam. Reaching into the case, the man pulled out the ancient camera and grinned.
It was easy to see this thing was like a third limb to him, as he carried it with a great confidence. Bringing it up to one eye, the man fumbled with the controls at the cameras sides. A red light came on.
"December 21st, 5 pm. Eastern standard time, I never thought I'd get here so fast!"
Pausing, he took this time to let the camera cover his surroundings. "New York, 1994. I wonder what it's going to be like with… ah… what's his name?" He questioned, the view of his camera landing on the belongings of his new roommate.
"Roger."
From the door came a voice which made the young cameraman jump. Turning on his heel, and the camera still rolling, the man stared at his new roommate.
Roger was taller than Mark, and considerably more built. He wore a dirty gray shirt with a faded logo on the front. His long plaid pants almost covered two worn looking boots. His spiky brown hair was touched with flicks of gold, and a cold face sat underneath raised brows.
"You must be Mark." was all the man said before stepping in and closing the door behind him. "You'll want to be careful, leaving the door open like that. You're in New York now."
The cameraman, whose name was obviously Mark, studied this man before switching off his camera and setting it carefully on the table. "Ah, a real New Yorker. Yeah, I'm Mark."
"And where is…." Mark started, trying to think of the name of the other roommate.
"Benny?" Roger questioned, leading himself over to the dusty couch in the room.
"Yeah, him."
"No idea. I just moved here." Roger commented with a wicked grin.
Mark laughed and shook his head. "It's good to meet you."
He scanned the loft, pulled a frown and shook his head.
"Ah, the city of life!" He said scourfully before letting his bags drop with two great plops.
He pulled at something at his chest and quickly pulled it over his shoulder. It was a strap and at the end hung a hard case. His frown faded suddenly and he swept off to the nearby table, which rocked unsteadily on top it's uneven legs.
The young mans look glowed as he unlatched the case, pushing the top open carefully. Inside rested a camera, along with a few odd instruments all packed into the crumbling foam. Reaching into the case, the man pulled out the ancient camera and grinned.
It was easy to see this thing was like a third limb to him, as he carried it with a great confidence. Bringing it up to one eye, the man fumbled with the controls at the cameras sides. A red light came on.
"December 21st, 5 pm. Eastern standard time, I never thought I'd get here so fast!"
Pausing, he took this time to let the camera cover his surroundings. "New York, 1994. I wonder what it's going to be like with… ah… what's his name?" He questioned, the view of his camera landing on the belongings of his new roommate.
"Roger."
From the door came a voice which made the young cameraman jump. Turning on his heel, and the camera still rolling, the man stared at his new roommate.
Roger was taller than Mark, and considerably more built. He wore a dirty gray shirt with a faded logo on the front. His long plaid pants almost covered two worn looking boots. His spiky brown hair was touched with flicks of gold, and a cold face sat underneath raised brows.
"You must be Mark." was all the man said before stepping in and closing the door behind him. "You'll want to be careful, leaving the door open like that. You're in New York now."
The cameraman, whose name was obviously Mark, studied this man before switching off his camera and setting it carefully on the table. "Ah, a real New Yorker. Yeah, I'm Mark."
"And where is…." Mark started, trying to think of the name of the other roommate.
"Benny?" Roger questioned, leading himself over to the dusty couch in the room.
"Yeah, him."
"No idea. I just moved here." Roger commented with a wicked grin.
Mark laughed and shook his head. "It's good to meet you."