London was big.

That was an understatement, to her. Gemma had come from Toronto, which was quite large in itself, but London dwarfed her hometown. She'd moved to get away from her family. She told people, that, too; she was honest. And they looked at her like she was some sort of monster. But truly, her family was awful. Her never-married parents were abusive dealers, and while she had lived with them she'd had cuts and hand-shaped bruises to prove it. Although she often drank and smoked, she'd tried to separate herself from the narrative she could have followed. She wasn't a naturally nasty person, and did her best to be accepting and lovely. She'd had a lot of friends back home, and didn't look like a troubled young woman at all. And she wasn't shy, but the move had shocked her. She'd secured a bar-tending job and a flat with roommates before she'd even left Canada, but once on the other side of the world, fear set in. Everyone spoke differently, even acted differently, had different customs. She wasn't sure how to act. Her roomies, though, were understanding. All three were about her age. Kris was an outgoing girl with dark brown hair who at once made her feel comfortable. She was a sweetheart, and after a few days they'd already become close. They had clicked. Arlo she'd only met a few times, as he was at work in the day and went out to party at night, but he was tall, ruggedly handsome, and friendly.

Murdoc, on the other hand… he was a different story. He was around during the day occasionally with seemingly nothing to do, but when out he sometimes didn't return to the flat for a good twenty-four hours. She couldn't decide if she was attracted to him or repulsed by him. He was only slightly taller than she was, and his build was lean. He had naturally small bones, but the outlines of his muscles could be traced through the black or gray jumpers he wore. An inverted cross on a necklace hung around his neck boldly- he seemed the type to be an occultist, she thought. He reeked of cheap cologne, cigarette smoke, and alcohol. He had a couple pimples on his cheeks, leftover from his teenage years, and a sparse scattering of facial hair. His nose looked like it had been broken numerous times in numerous places; his hair, oddly enough, was always sleek and shiny (although she'd only heard him in the bathroom with the shower on once) and his eyes… there was something about his eyes. They were tunnels, deep, sharp, frightening. Whenever he entered a room she was in, they peered at her from underneath his raven black fringe, calculating, almost predatory. She could tell by his eyes he was intelligent. But she knew he'd come from a troubled background. And she understood, but she was too intimidated to speak to him other than the curt greetings and eerily prolonged eye contact they'd made with each other. She wasn't even sure why he was living here, with people who seemingly had nothing in common with him.

"He's kind of… different, no?" Kris whispered to her as they listened to him clack open a beer can from the fridge.

His cuban heels clicking on the cheap hardwood floor, he ambled out of the kitchen and mumbled "ladies" as he passed them in the living room. Eager to make friends with her flatmates, Gemma picked up the courage to ask, "how are you, Murdoc?"

He paused and swung on his heels to face her and looked at her quizzically, as if he wasn't used to people taking an interest in him. "Gemma… is it?"

She nodded. His tunnel-eyes bore into hers.

"I s'pose I'm fine," he drawled. She took in the sound of him- this was the most he'd ever said to her. His voice was gravelly and deep, and he asked calculatedly, "yourself?"

"I'm fine too," she smiled. "I just don't see you around often."

"I'm busy," he said flatly.

Gemma nodded, trying to come across as understanding; she could see he wanted to be left alone. "If you ever want to hang out sometime, though, I'd love to. I just want to get to know you guys, since I'll be here for… a while."

He looked her up and down briefly, his eyes lingering a few moments too long on her breasts; she fought the urge to cover them with her arms. "Might take you up on that, love," he murmured, and walked away.

The two young women sat in silence for a moments.

"That was… strange," Gemma whispered to Kris. "Is he usually so aloof?"

"Yeah. I've never had a full conversation with him, but I've never seen him look even moderately interested like he did today. He did look at your boobs for a bit too long, though," Kris criticized. "I wouldn't be surprised if he tried to pull something. He seems like the type."

"Well.. maybe. But we don't know that. He could be a really nice guy."

Kris shrugged. "He's not nasty to us and he rarely ever leaves a mess, so that's all I care about. I mean, his room smells like weed and air fresheners, but." She wrinkled her nose. "Something about him seems a bit off."

Gemma had to admit, something did seem off about him- but she couldn't put her finger on what. After hearing him speak- that husky, rough voice of his- she'd developed a bit of a crush on him…

"I guess I'll have to find out, won't I?"