Thanks for the comments. I fixed the first chappie, and you might want to read it again, cause I changed a few things.

Numair paused at the train door. She was standing stiff, leaned forward, as if eager to run, but held back. He waited, not wanting to interrupt anything. When he saw her slim form relax, he stepped off the train with all the baggage, purposefully making a clatter.

She turned towards him. He felt his breath caught in his throat. She looked so pure, innocent stand there in a pool of moonlight, the pearly hues gently resting on the smoky-brown of her roots, adding a glimmer to her extra-large eyes. His eyes traveled downward, then he caught himself. He forced his eyes back up to her face. She looked . . . what was it? Sad? Scared? Lonely?

"Hey," he spoke with as much calm as he could muster.

"Hey," her voice was impossibly close breaking.

"Uh, lemme call a cab."

"Yeah, okay." Her quiet voice betrayed deep sadness.

He stood on the curb and whistled loudly. A yellow car screeched to a stop. The acrid smell of burnt rubber filled the air.

The silhouette of a head leaned out the driver's seat window. "Ya need a lift?"

"Uh, yes, yes I do. Hold on a moment, please." He walked over to where he left the young woman. She stood with a haunted look on her face. "Hey," No response. She appeared to be in some sort of trance. He snapped his fingers in front of her face and spoke with a renewed vigor. "Hey,"

Her eyes opened slowly. She rubbed her eyes, smearing dark mascara under her lids. "Mm. Yeah? Holy crap, was I just asleep? Damn, I must've been."

"I got a cab for us. Here, let me take your stuff."

She followed him back to the yellow car, and watched passively are he loaded the numerous suitcases into the trunk, eyes threatening to close. She yawned and leaned against the warm car. He opened the door and she slid inside. He sat up front, next to the driver.

"Where you twos be headin'?" The cabbie continued to stare straight ahead, face lost in shadow.

"I don't know," Numair leaned over to face the woman. "Where are you going to stay?"

"Hmm? Oh, right, a place to . . . " she yawned. " . . . a place to stay . . ."

"You want to go back to my place?"

The cabbie gave out a low chuckle.

"Yeah, yeah, that'd be great . . . " Her head tilted to the side, forehead against the window.

Numair gave directions to his home as indifferent as he could, knowing that the cabbie had a sordidly understanding smile on his face.

The woman was asleep on her feet. Numair sat her down on the cold stone steps to the ritzy hotel where he lived. For the thousandth time since moving in, Numair thanked whoever was out there that the manager was close to his parents, so he had a deal on the top-floor suite. He lifted out the suitcases and bags, the cabbie offering no help whatsoever. Numair didn't care. He tried to pass on his wealth as much as possible, feeling bad for having so much when so many had so little. He left the cabbie a good deal richer.

She had trouble climbing up the steps in her dreamlike state and the boots. It took a few trips to get all the suitcases loaded into the lobby and the elevator. Numair leaned against glass wall as he pressed the gently glowing button. Sliding down, he sat on a soft duffel bag, eyelids lowering.

A small ping announced the top floor. He stood with his foot against the elevator door as he unloaded all the suitcases. As he stood against the wall, he felt the doors begin to close with a whoosh. With a gasp, he realized that the girl from the train was still inside. He watched the "L" above the elevator light up, indicating that the elevator was destined for the lobby. What will they think? He wondered, racing down the stairs. He could only imagine that old Ms. Agawhuthers, another long-term resident, could be out this late. He wondered briefly if he had enough time to use the spiral staircase the proper way. No, definitely not. But he wondered if it was just an excuse to slide down the banister, as he often did either very late or very early.

At the bottom, Numair had to take a few dizzy steps – earning an odd look from the doorman – to rid himself of the pleasant careless feeling from sliding down 30 plus floors on the banister. The arrow pointed to the tenth floor, and continued to go down. The doors pinged open again, and Numair hurriedly stepped inside before the doorman could see the punk already there.

"Going for another run?" asked a wistful voice.

Numair looked around. The doorman, usually so timid, met his eyes. He grinned "No, not this time, I've got things to do. You ever try it?"

A sigh. "No, I'm to stand here until sunrise, and by then some people are already awake. I couldn't risk my job."

Numair unconsciously pressed his thumb against the "Doors open" button. He looked, really looked, at the doorman. He didn't seem too old. "Look, give me your hat and coat. I'll stand guard for a bit so long as you take my friend here up to my room. Just have here wait in the threshold."

"Really, you'd do that?" Eyes that had matured far too fast boyishly lit up. "I won't take more than a moment, I swear. Oh, thank you, thank you so much!"

Numair waited impatiently for the doorman's return. He had looked so eager, so happy that Numair felt he should have all the time in the world, but he also didn't want his guest getting into trouble, or worse, that his neighbors call the police.

The doorman finally appeared, out of breath with joy. "That was the most wonderful thing ever!" he exclaimed.

Nuamir jumped up from his slouched-on-the-floor position. "Look, you ever want to do it again, just tell me. I've got the time. Listen, thanks for bringing my friend up to my room. Um, it'd be really great if people didn't know about her . . . No! I don't meant that!" he yelped in response to the doorman's understanding nod and sly grin. Did everyone think he was just going to sleep with this woman? He stepped into the elevator, determined to no longer meet anyone's eyes for the rest of the night. "Until next time." he acknowledged the doorman with a small salute.

Who would have thought that the night would be so complicated? Numair fervently hoped that the woman from the train was waiting outside his door, preferably hidden from his pretentious neighbors. Much to his relief, she was, and he had not misplaced his key.

Entering the apartment, he flicked on the lights, then carried the soundly asleep guest into his spare bedroom. He hovered awkwardly above her sleeping form. Surely it couldn't be comfortable to sleep in those clothes, yet he was hesitant to remove them. He sat in the edge of the bed, the mattress shifting to accommodate his light weight. She rolled toward him along the incline of the mattress. Numair slowly, so as not to awake her, undid each boot and slipped them off. He set them gently on the floor and tucked a sheet around he figure. She was painfully thin and the weather was starting to get chilly.

Yawning, he made his way into his room and slipped out of this clothes, save for a pair of boxers. He thought that he had adapted nicely from tropics to practically arctic weather. Sliding under the covers he emptied his mind and began to doze. A thought came with such force to his mind that he sat up. There is a complete stranger in my apartment. But sleep was too powerful. Does it really matter? He thought, but he got up and closed his bedroom door anyway. The room became unbearably stuffy and Numair threw open his large windows. A night chill crept into his room. He finally fell into a dreamless slumber. Or perhaps his dreams were far too much so for him to remember.

I think it was a bit rushed, sorry. I had little fun writing this chappie, but I felt it was necessary. I swear to have a new chappie up tres soon.