Laurence felt bad.

Really bad.

It was no mystery to him that his little relationship with his neighbor that he allowed to develop was one he was particularly liking. A lot. Maybe it was the fact he'd been lonely so long, or the fact they seemed to be comfortable together. Or the fact that she was, and has consistently been, trying. She had and still has been trying to make him happy, trying to give off hints. But whatever the reason, he was letting himself fall too far into it, and he, for the life of him, couldn't figure out and didn't want to figure out how to dig himself out.

And why did he feel bad? Well, simply because it had been a week and a half since their last outing and he hadn't talked to her since. Dominic could feel himself becoming soft. Geez, a week and a half and he missed a girl he went on one date with? What was he, fifteen?

Anyway, that was exactly why he was standing in front of her door, setting down a vase with a single yellow rose- yellow, he found out, was her favorite color- and a small card tied on with glittery ribbon. He was dressed for work, and had left home early in order to fetch the flower. This gesture made him feel better about himself, and he strode down the hallway, smiling to himself when the elevator immediately dinged and opened when he pressed the button,

'When you wake up, open your door.' He texted her this as he was walking out of the building, putting the phone in the pocket of his suit jacket.

Jennifer also felt horrible, for she saw his lack of communication as a rejection. God, why did she even bother? It wasn't like she was beautiful, totally not in his league. She was milling around in her bathroom, looking at herself in the mirror. Her face was too round, for one. She was short, slightly overweight. Her mouth was small, her eyes weren't remarkable. And her hair? Ugh. Split ends and way too long. She thought about cutting it for a moment before burning that idea out of her mind. She'd spent so long growing it out...no way she was doing that for a man. Yeah, Jen had some self confidence issues, but nothing that she couldn't get over.

Sighing, she thought that she would lose weight, then snorted.

Yeah, that was totally gonna happen.

She left the bathroom, having had enough of eyeing herself in disgust, opening up the fridge and taking out some bacon. There was leftover rice in the cooker, she would eat it with bacon, So what if it was weird, it was resourceful! And lazy. Which might be why she was slightly overweight.

She cooked the bacon, saving the grease in a tupperware before sitting down and eating her rice and bacon. She watched the news, pulled into a story about a little boy falling down a well before finishing her breakfast, watching for a few more moments when a brief advertisement came on.

"The Dollhouse, reality or fantasy? Could this urban legend be real? We go in depth in a thorough report tonight at nine with Ron Ferald."

The dollhouse. Just a mixup of urban legend and too much sci-fi channel. The thought was disgusting, though. Human trafficking was basically the lot of it. She couldn't imagine how it all would work, and she pushed it out of her mind. Not like it would ever matter to her anyhow.

She cleaned her bowl, heading to her room to get dressed so she could go to her restaurant. She paid no mind to her phone as she passed, putting on an appropriate skirt and top. She simply shoved her phone into her purse, trying not to think of Laurence. She'd waited for him to speak to her at all for a week, and it was unhealthy to allow herself to be stuck over a guy she barely knew. She slid on a pair of heels before clicking to the door, opening it and nearly running over the vase at her feet.

Jennifer,

I'm really sorry I haven't been around. Forgive me and my work schedule. Can you do dinner, Sunday? On me. And until then, I promise to text at least.

L.

Jennifer could scream in happiness, but she didn't She composed herself, taking the vase inside and placing it by a window. Then, with a piece of paper and a ball point pen, she wrote, in large, cursive lettering,

YES!

And taped it onto his door. She could have texted him, but decided to keep the note passing business.

With a happy bounce in her step she locked her apartment, heading to her car in the lot outside.

Laurence sat in his office, finishing off paperwork for Dewitt. Weekly reports on dolls, ensuring their sanity...or not, however you would put it. A single light on his desk shone, a grey pen in hand, a pair of glasses on the bridge of his nose. A cautious knock startled him from his thoughts, and he looked up to see Topher, hands in his pockets, looking nervous as ever.

"What?"

"Er, Dewitt asked me to do her a favor. Can you be here Sunday?"

He glared at the boy. "She asked you to come down here and ask me to do overtime?"

Topher nervously laughed. "Ahhhm, well...the dollhouse is a constantly on call job y'know...and she asked me to ask you because she's swamped with paperwork..."

"Speaking of paperwork, I shouldn't be doing this shit, seeing as I don't spend nearly as much time with the dolls as you do... And no." He returned to the paperwork, pushing his glasses up his nose.

"No?"

"No, I'm not showing up on Sunday. I have..plans."

Topher's eyebrows raised. "Woahhh! The workaholic is finally taking a day off! Dang, that's the second time in like, two weeks!"

He raised his angry glare to Topher again. "Get out of my office."

"Aww, c'mon. I'm just now finding out Dom has hobbies! What do you do, crochet?" Topher sat in front of Laurence, smiling devilishly.

"No. Stop pushing me. Get the hell out."

"No, then. Lemme guess...arts and crafts? Dancing? Oh, why would anyone dance on a Sunday. Gardening? Yoga? Ohhh, I know!" His smile grew wider. "Stripper!"

This earned him a pen in the face.

"Ow!" Topher didn't duck fast enough, rubbing his cheek. Laurence's phone on the desk buzzed, and Topher glanced to it, seeing it was a call from..a girl?

"Woah! Dominic got himself a date! Highfive! …." Laurence simply glared at him, rejecting the call, and Topher nervously lowered his hand. "Look, Dewitt is...Dewitt. And she'll ask questions. Sooooo, at least you already told someone! Practice makes perfect!"

Topher jumped up, attempting to leave.

"Topher, you say anything about this conversation to anyone and you will wish I was only a doll."