Disclaimer: I do not own Danny Phantom or any of its characters, all of which are the exclusive property of Butch Hartman and Nickelodeon.
"Hello?" chirps the cheery voice on the other end of the line. He runs his free hand through his now loose hair and takes a deep breath (awful lot of those lately) before answering.
"Yes, I'm calling to inquire about an apartment on ... and ...; the sign on the front of the building said to call this number..."
"Oh, absolutely, sir!" exclaims the perky listings agent on the other end. "I can be there in an hour, if that's convenient for you."
He forces himself to grin, despite the fact that she cannot see him anyway, and grips the side of the payphone.
"That's fine."
She chirps again in delight before hanging up.
He turns the corner and finds the agent already standing in front of the building's doors. She seems to be an energetic, happy-go-lucky thirty-something, looking a bit out of contrast with the dreary environment around her. Nonetheless, she bears a wide grin at his arrival. He, however, seems a bit apprehensive.
"Are you the one that called earlier for the apartment?" she asks, sticking out her hand for a friendly shake.
He takes it and nods. She clutches her manila folder to her chest and looks at him with big, hopeful eyes, giddy at the thought of making a commission.
"Well, then we better not waste any time!"
She pushes the doors open and picks up a stride on her way to the staircase visible on the right side of the lobby. He follows, not as enthusiastically, but it takes only one step from him to equal three from her.
On the way up she reveals to him the steal that an apartment there costs; utilities functioning (barely, from what he can tell of the blinky lighting), and the great view the room has. Figuring she's not lamenting anything truly important to him, he slowly tunes her out, following like a robot.
She opens the door to the third floor and makes her way down the hallway. He trails behind her, watching her attempt to make small talk with the old woman sitting in a folding chair in her doorway on the left, TV dinner in lap and looking frumpy.
"Hello, Mrs. Stein," the agent remarks. "How are you doing today?"
"The weather's horrible," Mrs. Stein retorts nonsensically. "And my knee's acting up again. It'll get even worse."
"That's nice," the agent replies, smile still plastered onto her face. She continues walking, and he does the same, not saying a word as he passes the older woman by.
"Are you renting to this one?" Mrs. Stein barks, looking after the both of them. "Don't. I gotta bad feeling about him. No good."
He tenses and almost turns to look at her until the agent turns around and mouths the word 'senile' to him. He relaxes a little.
"Well, here it is," she says as she turns the key in the lock and enters an apartment about five doors down from the old woman. Stepping in with her, he stoops a little to avoid hitting his head on the door frame, realizing an instant later he's capable of clearing it without ducking.
She sighs and looks around like she's stepped into a little piece of paradise. All he sees is paint chipping in a corner of the tiny room, a bare bedpost without a mattress under the one window, a small excuse for a kitchen on his immediate right, and a door to his left that he assumes leads to the bathroom.
"It's not too shabby," she tries to persuade him (and possibly herself), stepping in front of a dead cockroach and not so subtly kicking it under the bedpost. "The, uh, bathroom's in decent condition."
He pushes the door to the bathroom open and is slightly surprised to see she's right; still, it's fairly bland and a small bit of limescale has built up on the soapdish. But nothing too serious.
"Um, there's... not really much else I can add at this point..." she mumbles unsurely, rubbing the back of her neck nervously.
"Well, I'm not looking for anything special," he reassures her. "This'll do just fine."
She perks up slightly and opens the folder she has been holding.
"Okay, then... well, I already have the month-to-month lease here," she starts, offering the pen that was also in the folder. "So all you have to do is sign and date it, unless you want to keep it overnight and go over..."
"No, I'll skim it right now," he interrupts politely.
He glances over the two pages in a period of two minutes and flips back to the front, taking the pen and signing, using the stove as a tabletop.
She picks it up when he's done and looks at the name written on the lease: Vladimir Aleksandr.
"Russian?" she inquires, smirking.
"No, Canadian."
Her face drops for a second before she realizes he is being sarcastic. She chuckles, trailing off nervously and clearing her throat when his deadpan expression remains indifferent.
"So, um, the first month is $700 and security is also $700..." she informs him, watching him take out his wallet and slowly count out fourteen Benjamins, handing them to her without a word.
She looks at him strangely, wondering why he has so much cash on hand instead of a checkbook or something of the sort.
"Gotta be careful carrying too much around these days," he instantly fibs, a hint of a strained chuckle almost evident in his voice.
She nods unsurely, and decides not to put too much thought into it.
"Well, in any case, I need to know of any references you might have..."
She stops midsentence when she sees the look of uncertainty that crosses over his face.
"...but it's not really necessary... I mean, you seem like an honest man," she adds rushedly. She also forces a smirk when she sees his expression lighten.
There is a moment of uncomfortable silence in which she grabs everything and stuffs it back into the folder, sliding past him and opening the door.
"Well, it was very nice meeting you," she says quickly. "I hope you enjoy the apartment!"
She lets herself out without so much as a 'goodbye.'
He doesn't pay it any mind, just shrugging the duffel bag off his shoulder and dropping it on the floor next to the bedpost, which he promptly sits on to rest, letting an ear-piercing creak sound through the room and possibly the ones next to it.
He sighs and looks around at the apartment, thinking how long he can manage in it and how he will survive off of the mere $200 dollars left in his wallet.
Burying his head in his hands, he stares at the floor in defeat.
Home sweet home.