A/N: First Hotel Dusk fic, and I apologise if I got any facts wrong. Thanks for clicking.
Redbrick Apartments sat right on the corner of East Avenue, Los Angeles. Neighboring it was a run-down grocery store that looked like it hadn't seen any customers in months, and a long-closed hospital, outside which a sign loudly proclaimed that it was being renovated in order to better serve the public (of course, many of the area's inhabitants knew this would never be done). Jeff Damon wrinkled his nose as he surveyed the area from his car -- a slightly over-the-top convertible, which sported a glossy coat of red. On the contrary, many of the few cars he could spot looked much overdue for a wash.
He spent a few minutes longer than usual trying to parallel park between two rusted old machines; was rust contagious? Surely not, anyway he was sure the surface of his vehicle was unscuffed. Whether it would remain that way in this part of the neighborhood, Jeff was uncertain, and resolved not to stay longer than fifteen minutes, twenty tops.
The door to the lobby was closed, but unlocked. He gingerly gave the doorknob a twist, then brushed his hand off on his jeans. As expected, there was no one in sight -- the desk where the landlord, or landlady, might have been was covered in a thick layer of dust. But on the wall, held secure by a strip of yellowing tape, hung a list of the current inhabitants of the building. Jeff squinted at the table, giving it a quick lookover from top to bottom: and there it was, written in printing akin to a five-year-old's, the word "Hyde". Second floor, the sixth unit.
Jeff hesitated briefly, then rapped twice on the worn wood. Who would answer? A woman, a man? Kyle Hyde? Was he even married? Maybe he had a kid.
A very familiar young woman opened the door a crack, before closing it again. He made to say something, but then came the sound of a bolt being unchained, and the door was opened fully.
"You're..." Jeff paused, raising an eyebrow. "Mika?"
"M-Mila," the girl tucked a stray lock of hair behind her ear and looked up. "Are you looking for Mr. Hyde?"
"Yeah, got something for him," he said. The pocket of his jacket began to take on a heavy weight.
"Mr. Hyde!" Mila turned around. Her attempt at raising her voice didn't sound different from her normal speaking tone. "Mr. Angel's here to g-give you something!"
"I don't know any Angel!" a familiar husky voice yelled back.
"It's Jeff," he called. "Jeff Damon."
"What?" Then came the sound of footsteps.
Kyle Hyde came to the door.
--
It was evident that Hyde had only just woken up. His shirt was crumpled beyond ironing, stubble peppered his chin and his eyes, which normally resembled sharp blades -- at least, that was what he remembered most about Hyde's face during their momentary verbal battle in his room in Hotel Dusk -- were still slightly dull, although they'd whetted themselves considerably after actually seeing Jeff face-to-face. With him came the musky smell of evaporated sweat.
"Why don't you come in?" Mila asked, looking from Hyde to Jeff and to Hyde again.
Hyde said nothing, but retreated to the living room, scratching the back of his head. Then he picked a few hopelessly unwashed articles of clothing off the sofa and dropped them onto the floor, before sinking into the seat. Jeff had no intention of sitting next to Hyde, and instead pushed the laundry piled on a matching couch onto the floor and sat on that instead.
The place was an interesting cross between a garbage dump and a housewife's busy day. Half of the room was spotlessly clean -- the other was not so much. It appeared that all the rubbish had agreed to migrate from one section to another, eventually settling on the part closest to the door. Great first impression, thought Jeff.
Mila made a move to pick up a fallen shirt, but Hyde frowned at her. "I'll tidy that later." She nodded, and retreated to another room, chewing her lip.
"What, you made her your maid?" Jeff smirked.
"Nothing like that," Hyde furrowed his eyebrows in response. "She's doing all this of her own accord." As if to affirm this while still invisible, Mila nodded vigorously from the other room.
"Right," the smug look on Jeff's face did not waver. His eyes travelled to the floor, where a jacket emblazoned with the words "Red Crown" and a company logo lay on the floor, caught under a chair leg. "Still a lowly salesman, huh?"
Hyde's eyes narrowed. "So, what did daddy's little boy do this time? Rob another safe? What was in it, diamonds--"
"What? No!"
"And you need Mr. Hyde to bail you out this time, tell you what to do and how to get out of it. How about this," Hyde leaned forward. "Why don't you take that gun and point it to your--"
"Thank you!" Jeff hissed fiercely, and slapped a plain white envelope down on the grimy coffee table, standing up. "And good day!"
He turned to leave, but Hyde picked up the envelope and flung it at his retreating back.
"Take your goddamn money," he said, getting up to retrieve the envelope from the floor then smacking Jeff's cheek lightly with it. "Don't need it."
"You helped me," Jeff said, not touching the envelope.
"Au contraire, Angel," Hyde pushed the paper into the younger man's hands. "You were the one who helped me."
"What?" It was hard not to take it back. "But I came all the way just to give you--"
"Do I look like I've given a damn about you since I left the hotel?" Hyde scowled.
"I'm pretty sure everyone in the hotel gave a big damn about you," Jeff retorted.
The silence that followed was viscous enough to mold. Jeff shoved the envelope back into the pocket of his jacket and made to leave, making sure to wipe his shoes on one of the shirts lying on the floor.
"If I were you, I'd be expecting more of us dropping by," he said, his eyes narrowing. Then he walked swiftly out the door. The whole neighborhood heard the engine of Jeff's car as it left. Hyde looked out the window at the speeding red blur, shaking his head.
Mila bustled out of the other room and began to pick up the sheets and whatnot off the floor. Hyde sighed, then bent down and began to help. All in a day's work.
A/N: Thanks for making it this far. My writing's a little... inconsistent. Sorry.