Andi Foster's Rue Sorbier Flat

[Deleted]

Gambetta Rue Sorbier Apartment

Situated on 5th floor of a nice building with an elevator, the flat is colorful and stylish. It also comes with a private deck that overlooks a courtyard, and a nice view of the Paris sky. It's modern, retro, comfortable, and pretty all at once! Sometimes Andi can make it seem a little cluttered with all of her plans, choreography routines, and supplies lying about since she likes to set up camp on her floor. Guests are always more than welcomed though and chill, and if a bottle of wine was involved, she would not be complaining!

The apartment.

[The Exodus]

Tom Flannery

When your ex-girlfriend gave you twenty-four hours to move out of her place, you didn’t fight it. Tom supposed he’d worn out his welcome twelve years ago, when he and Toni had broken up. In fact, he’d expected her to cut him from her life then, like a normal ex-girlfriend. Instead, they’d stayed friends for over a decade and it wasn’t until she broke things off with Bill MaCarthy, that Toni kicked Tom out.

To be clear, Toni hadn’t kicked Tom out of her life. Instead, this morning when Tom shambled into the kitchen, Toni was sitting serenely at the table with a mug of coffee.

“I’ve found an apartment that’s move-in ready for you,” she told him. “It’s well within your price range.”

“What the—“

“I need to be alone for a while, Tom. Pick the one you like best and get out of here.”

He did just that. But Tom took the cat. In a way, it was all right. Toni insisted she wasn’t mad at him, wasn’t mad at anybody, but that she simply couldn’t handle “this” right now, whatever that meant. She didn’t seem particularly sad about her break up with Bill, which Tom thought rather unusual since, for what it was worth, he’d rather liked Bill.

It was on that very strange note Tom found himself across town—as far away from the Latin Quarter flat he’d lived in with Toni—in Gambetta. Gambetta, Tom decided, was the Parisian version of his old neighborhood. It had remnants of a working class heritage, infused with modernization and hipsters. He could get used to it. So, with his single suitcase and a cat carrier, Tom checked in with the landlord by ten o’clock that night and set about moving in.

He walked up to his room and set down the cat and suitcase. He pulled his new key out of his pocket and put it in the lock. It was all very surreal, thinking that he would have his own place, be sleeping in his own bed tonight… He hadn’t meant to become a permanent fixture in Paris, but it wouldn’t be long before Tom got a job, no doubt, and learned the language, and ate snails for lunch. He turned the key.

And the handle didn’t budge.

“C’mon, you tosser,” he muttered before trying again.

Still nothing.

“Well, bugger me,” he mumbled.

And he gave it another go.

And the handle still didn’t budge.

“F*cking hell.”

Tom pulled the key out of the lock and rummaged in his pocket for his wallet. He pulled out his old library card from SoHo and looked at it sadly.

“Sorry, mate,” he said to it. “You’ve served me well.”

And with that, he slid it between the door and the lock tumblers, and hoped for the best.

[Deleted]

Andi Foster


The laughter that had roared in the rehearsal studio was all directed at Andi and how she was spending her Friday night. She responded like any dancer would when being made fun. She showed off her break dancing 'air flare' move that no one in that studio could even imagine doing unless they got themselves three more years of dance training and another year just out in the streets of New York City. It was a totally show off moment, and she usually hated show offs, but like Andi told her dancers after her little show that until they could do that, they had no room to laugh at the fact she was spending a cozy night in. Tonight would be the coziest night ever, and she had decided that after her morning shower when she was applying almost half the bottle of concealer to cover the circles underneath her eyes. It was what hard work felt like and it felt so good, but having, as they say in the world of theatre, a 'dark night', would do Andi Foster some wonders.

She had stopped at the nearby store to grab a bottle of wine. Nothing said a cozy night in like warm tingling cheeks, her favorite teal fuzzy blanket, and A Philadelphia Story. Something about spending an evening with Cary Grant and Jimmy Stewart made Andi seem like she was making the right move on a night in the romantic city of Paris. Andi would be spending it with the classiest of men. Knowing that the night would begin just in a minute, Andi could already feel her legs wanting to give out and her clothes just awaiting to be ripped off and exchanged for a big t-shirt and boxers.

Wine in hand, Andi stepped off the elevator and began walking down the hallway. Looking at her side, continuing to walk, she slid out her apartment keys from her rehearsal bag. As she did so, she looked up ahead again and then froze dead in her tracks.

Someone was carding her apartment door! Someone was trying to break into her apartment! Terror smacked Andi Foster right in the chest, causing her heart chaotically beat. She took a step back automatically, the man not seeing her yet as he continued to casually toy with the knob. Who the hell did he think he was and why was he being so normal about it? Rage rose in the pit of her stomach, soon going to make it's way out of her mouth, because there was no way Andi was going to allow this to happen. His profile, she studied closely, just in case she would have to make a detail to the police or something. He had sharp features, red hair, and clean cut. What, did he dress up for his break ins or something like some sick ritual? That was Andi's home! She needed to defend it. She couldn't just runaway, although the possibility of him having some kind of weapon was lingering in the back of her mind. It was late, it was Friday so the town of young singles was hopping on the outside but the inside of this complex was abandoned. Andi was not going to chicken out though. She had spent seconds standing there, processing what was happening, but it seemed like minutes.

"Hey!" Andi barked suddenly, not knowing herself that she was going to yell that out and that was her version of 'defense' but it happened and it bounced off the walls in a deep roar. Raising her wine bottle, she stepped sideways as if taking some kind of karate pose, and rose the bottle above her head. "Put down the card, step away from my apartment, or I'll smash you're frickin' face in." She threatened with a sharp eye, feeling her pulse race and having an almost out of body experience but standing her ground.Alright, so the threat was out there and the wine bottle was up in the air. What exactly did Andi think she was going to do if he pulled out a gun?

A bottle of wine could only go so far.

[The Exodus]

Tom Flannery

So, Tom didn’t know if his new landlord was just taking the piss or if his luck really was this bad, but that he had to mangle his library card in order to go home tonight was pushing him towards homicidal. In the morning, he’d probably earn a reputation for being the tenant who went crazy and murdered the landlord within the first twenty-four hours of living in the building. And really, the bloke would deserve it. Who did this to a new tenant? What kind of arsehole…?

"Hey!" a voice yelled from down the hall.

Tom expected it to be the landlord’s wife or something, bringing him the right key and an apology. Instead, a woman with brick colored hair was striking some kind of pose, holding a wine bottle aloft as though she was about ready to bash Tom’s skull in.

Really, why wasn’t he writing a memoir?

"Put down the card, step away from my apartment, or I'll smash you're frickin' face in."

“Oi,” Tom said, releasing the card and holding his hands up. “Now that is some kind of greeting. Is that how you treat all your neighbors? I’m jus’ tryin’ get in my apartment. It’s been a long day.”

[Deleted]

Andi Foster

“Oi." He seemed more rattled than she was, and he dropped the card holding out his hands. Andi blinked, crinkling her nose, shocked that it really worked, the whole barking commands in defense for her apartment thing. For a moment she felt powerful. Hell yes, she could make a robber drop everything and surrender with just a wine bottle and a death glare.

“Now that is some kind of greeting. Is that how you treat all your neighbors?"Wait, neighbors? Andi blinked, still tense, but a little confused now. Seriously, that's the lie he was going to go with? That was her door he was carding. That was far from a neighborly hello, unless it was some Paris culture, but by his accent he wouldn't know anything about Paris culture just as much as she did, and she was pretty sure that breaking and entering was not friendly in any country, region, state, city, or town.

"I’m jus’ tryin’ get in my apartment. It’s been a long day.”

Andi was so confused and so exhausted. She wanted to believe that he was her neighbor and try to figure this thing out, like, what he was doing hovering over her door knob, but a single woman living in Paris didn't have much choice but to be overly cautious. But for a moment, his words had never sounded so much like her thoughts and she could totally relate to him. Did he think she liked standing in this awkward pose in the middle of the hallway?

"Yeah, tell me about it." She murmured over to him as a friendly aside.

"No, wait." What was she doing? Andi shook her head out of her own state, and adjusted the wine bottle in her hand tightly as if the pressure would remind her she was suppose to be suspicious, protective, and angry right now. "That's my apartment door." She told him. "A neighbor wouldn't be trying to break into my apartment!"

[The Exodus]

Tom Flannery

Tom had heard of men being done in by drink, but this was absurd. He was about to be clubbed to death by a bottle of wine. It would be quite the exciting obituary, but Tom had rather hoped to live into his eighties, surrounded by loved ones and all the best books. He expected to quietly—if predictably—go in his sleep. Or, maybe, if he wanted to make things exciting, to be killed for shagging some man’s wife in the name of literature (Since Vronksy bedded Anna Karenina, the idea had appeal). Instead, he would die more like the Duke of Clarence in Richard III, minus all the political intrigue.

And worse still, Tom would die before being reunited with Kenneth.

His life—and his death—really couldn’t get much worse.

But slowly, the stranger lowered her weaponized wine bottle.

"Yeah, tell me about it," she said. Tom slouched, relaxing and putting his hands into his pockets. "No, wait. That's my apartment door. A neighbor wouldn't be trying to break into my apartment!"

“Your apartment?” Tom echoed. “No, no. This is apartment 5D. My apartment. Check for yourself.”

[Deleted]

Andi Foster

Everything in Andi was wishing and hoping that there was some explanation for this. The last thing she wanted to deal with was a robber on the night that was suppose to be the cozy night in. Imagine what her dancers would do if she said that she spent her Friday night holding up a guy by wine bottle and dealing with the police. In a way, she guessed it would make her look a little more hardcore. But Andi Foster rather be safe and tucked away than hardcore.

“Your apartment?” She was getting even more confused, but Andi glared over at him. Well, duh, there was a reason why you're using a card to get in. He was probably trying to play dumb or innocent. There was nothing he could say to make her lower her wine bottle. Really, he should have just accepted his defeat.

“No, no. This is apartment 5D. My apartment. Check for yourself.”


Andi lowered the bottle. It felt like a ton of bricks had just been taken off her chest. He looked so perplexed and lost, and she had heard there was someone moving in across from her, that she totally believed him. She heaved out a huge breath, bending down for a second and putting a hand on her thigh to shake out the jitters she had gotten. Because, seriously, what did she really expect to do with that wine bottle? "Whew!" She noised out, standing back up and making her way closer to him. Andi didn't want to tease him, because like he said, he was exhausted, and plus, she figured the last thing he needed after fidgeting with something that wouldn't budge for who knows how long he was kneeling there, she would be in a pissy mood.

"This is my apartment, 5E." Andi told him kindly, going to her apartment door next to him and showing him her key with the inscribed '5E' on the gold. Pointing over across the from the door, she smiled, "I think that's the one you're looking for."

With a silly smirk, she tucked the wine bottle under her arm, not really wanting to dwell on both their 'moments' tonight. Getting past the wine bottle showdown and the apartment confusion was probably enough for them tonight. "I'm Andi Foster," She said, "Your neighbor with the eighteen proof defense system."

[The Exodus]

Tom Flannery

His would be attacker seemed as relieved as Tom felt. Tom wanted to laugh. A strange, airy feeling fluttered in his chest cavity, the beginnings of a laugh, but it didn’t quite escape. Instead, an aspirated, “Heh” passed over his lips and he ran a hand through his hair. Really, Tom was just thankful that his neighbor hadn’t killed him before he lived in the apartment for five minutes.

"This is my apartment, 5E," the woman told him. And as she pointed to the gold-leaf lettering, Tom couldn’t help but think that she’d been exceptionally kind. He was lucky she hadn’t treated him like a mentally deficient child. How had he—the writer, the reader, the bookseller—mistaken a large, capitalized “E” for a “D”? "I think that's the one you're looking for."

He followed his new neighbor’s finger to the apartment door across the way. Sure enough, apartment 5D was across the hall. He’d just gotten turned around, was all. It could have been much worse. This time, Tom chuckled. It’d been a hell of a day.

"I'm Andi Foster," said the woman. Tom looked at her again and smiled. "Your neighbor with the eighteen proof defense system."

“Tom Flannery,” he said. “Your neighbor who is not—contrary to popular opinion—a petty criminal. Thank you, Andi. It’s a pleasure.”

[Deleted]

Andi Foster

"Tom Flannery." Andi continued to smile, but inside she was thumbing through her mind dictionary to figure out an adjective for him. It had the feel of a cheesy camp counselor name game, but that's why she didn't really tell anyone she did this. Plus, it was pathetic that a twenty seven year old had to still do this. Andi Foster looked into his eyes, losing track and getting a little memorized by them. So, there it was! Twinkling Tom. Not very masculine, so it was probably for the better that she never told him. It was a total compliment though.

“Your neighbor who is not—contrary to popular opinion—a petty criminal. Thank you, Andi. It’s a pleasure.”

What a nice guy! Andi Foster smiled, widening more than she probably would have liked it to, in an almost too girlie way, and swayed a little bit. She rarely got a rise like this, but this evening she was not expecting an attractive man to be trying to swipe a credit card through her door like her door was some kind of ATM that wasn't working out for him. Plus, how many guys this day and age seriously told someone it was a pleasure meeting them?

"You know what." She suddenly said with a silly smirk, "I was going to pour a glass for one tonight, but you should come over."

Andi let out a small laugh, "I promise I won't hold you up against bottle point either."

[The Exodus]

Tom Flannery

Now that she wasn’t wielding a bottle as if it were a billy club, Andi was rather pretty. Like Tom, she had red hair and bluish eyes. And at his introduction, she dimpled up into a smile, twisting her body back and forth. Tom would have to thank Toni later for moving him to Gambetta.

"You know what?" she said, still grinning. "I was going to pour a glass for one tonight, but you should come over." Andi let out a small laugh, "I promise I won't hold you up against bottle point either."

“A glass o’ wine with a pretty lass? I don’t know a man alive who’d pass that up,” Tom said. Then, remembering that he had a suitcase and a cat, he looked down and his mouth twitched to the side in thought. What was he supposed to do with them? “I just need to put…”

He’d had the cat for three weeks now and, really, she was more of a kitten than a cat. She had a tortoiseshell coat and liked to drape over Tom’s shoulders when he was writing on his laptop. But she had no name yet. He had been thinking ‘Ariel’ or ‘Puck’ when he first got her, just because they had always seemed like such good cat names, but his girl wasn’t mischievous enough for either. He had been running “Sissy Jupe” by her lately, but again, it was just a little too mischievous. Now, it was time for “Lucie” and then he’d be done with Dickens and have to move on to Joyce or—god forbid—settle on modern, genre literature.

“… my cat up,” he said, deciding not to try to introduce his cat after all. “Mind if I toss her in the right apartment and freshen up before I come over?”

[Deleted]

Andi Foster

This was going against the cozy night in. Meeting someone new, most importantly, her new neighbor was immunity from tonight. Andi would never confess that it was those twinkling eyes from ‘Twinkling Tom’ that had managed to dissuade her from a night all by herself without even meaning to. Andi Foster rolled her eyes when she heard her dancers chatting about how their nights off they would meet men or go out and take one home. She didn’t judge, she never would judge someone on having fun. In her taste, it simply wasn’t her. Andi liked meeting people, yes, but she could never just seduce a man she didn’t know. This wasn’t seduction though, although if she were to tell the girls, they’d die if she didn’t try something. She wouldn’t. Hopefully it didn’t look too wrong in Tom’s perspective either, but he seemed chill enough. Whatever, it all didn’t matter, and she didn’t even know why she was thinking like this. The point was, she wanted to get to know her neighbor who happened to be attractive and maybe gain a friend that was directly across the hall… while, drinking some wine. All this stressful thinking made Andi want to get out her dentist tools.

“A glass o’ wine with a pretty lass? I don’t know a man alive who’d pass that up.” He told her, and she was suddenly appreciative that her cheeks didn’t turn colors and she wasn’t an easy read. Now, if this was a couple of glasses of wine later, it’d be a different story.

Biting down her girly smirk, Andi went to her door with her key and began opening it.

“I just need to put…” She turned around again, and then looked down to see what he was referring to. It was a suitcase and a kennel? Andi had not even taken a look that closely, her mind had just assumed it was two suitcases. “… my cat up.” Andi’s eyes widened, getting away from the door. She absolutely loved cats! Sure, she was more of a dog person, but an animal was a cute animal.

“Mind if I toss her in the right apartment and freshen up before I come over?”

“Sure, but first I just wanna’…” Andi, before finishing her sentence, crouched down near the kennel. There it was, in a very unique color of fur, looking so itty bitty! She gasped excitedly, putting a hand to her chest. She was never allowed to have pets and was too busy in New York City to have one, so seeing someone else’s was more of a production for her. Taking her pointer finger, she put it inside, wiggling it around. Speaking in a quiet high voice, she smiled, “Hi there.” The kitten looked at her finger, sniffing it, and gently used her finger for a side of the face brush. Andi laughed quietly. “Oh, you’re adorable."

Looking up at Tom she asked, “What’s your little pal’s name?”

[The Exodus]

Tom Flannery

Maybe Tom shouldn’t rule out Shakespearean names just yet. There were a precious few others he could still feasibly use for a cat. Not Juliet, though. When he was a kid—back with Cathy—that had been them. Two, star-crossed teenagers. ‘Houses both alike in dignity’, except there was little dignified about the part of Dublin Tom called home or about Tottenham. And instead of killing themselves at the end, they had a baby and went their separate ways.

It was probably best not to name the cat Juliet.

Also, it was probably best not to tell Andi he wasn’t just a pet parent, but also a father. First impressions were key, after all.

Maybe Desdemona or Ophelia were better names for the cat.

Tom watched as Andi crouched down to say ‘hello’ to Lucie/Desdemona/Ophelia Kitten.

“Oh, you’re adorable,” Andi cooed. Tom wondered what endearing little thing his cat was doing. He couldn’t see into the kennel, but he imagined a sandpaper tongue brushing Andi’s fingers or a contented, too-deep purr thrumming forth from the kitten’s tiny chest. Andi looked up. “What’s your little pal’s name?”

“That’s the thing,” Tom said, leaning against the door frame. “I dunno. A friend brought her by and never said.”

Actually, Bill had brought the cat for Toni and somewhere in the duration of the conversation, the cat had scampered off. The cat’s name had never been revealed or, really, come up in conversation at all. Tom had been caring for her, though, so he supposed the responsibility of naming her fell on his shoulders. He hadn’t named either of his children; he wasn’t sure how to name a cat. It wasn’t like a character, who you could name based on their personality or something. Cats and babies came with personalities you couldn’t control and there was always the chance they wouldn’t jive with their given names.

“In some cultures, babies aren’t given a name until they’re a year old,” he said. “It’s considered bad luck to give ‘em a name too early or somethin’.”

[Deleted]

Andi Foster


"That's the thing," Twinkling Tom told Andi, and she looked up at him curiously, then couldn't help but plant her eyes on the kitty that chose to give her a few little kisses on her pinkie. "I dunno. A friend brought her by and never said." What a quirky situation and a strange little biography for her new little friend behind bars.

“In some cultures," He began, and Andi's eyebrow rose. "Babies aren’t given a name until they’re a year old. It’s considered bad luck to give ‘em a name too early or somethin’.” She smirked at his intelligence, appreciating some brain cells in people every so often.

"Thankfully they can't hear then." She told him with a funny little wink, "I don't know if they'd appreciate being called 'it' or 'the kid'."

Andi joked, and then looked back into the kennel. She waved her finger that had served as a licking post for the past few moments. "Well you lil' mystery fur ball, I'll let you wander your new home."

Standing up, she smiled at Tom. "It'll be unlocked, so just come in whenever."

[The Exodus]

Tom Flannery

Tom took the cat back to the apartment and pulled her litter tray out from underneath the kennel so he could set her up in the kitchen. He’d pick up food bowls first thing in the morning. It was a wonder how unfurnished new apartments were. Tom had talked to Rachel Day about going back to London to pick up a photograph of Cathy, but he’d probably also go back to pick up all of his stuff. Paris seemed more and more like a permanent arrangement.

Especially since he had such charming new neighbors.

Tom wished he had something to bring over to Andi’s apartment—food, more wine, music, presents. But all he owned could fit in a suitcase and a cat kennel. He wondered how his life had been reduced to that, and then he remembered that it technically wasn’t, since he also had a storage bin across the Channel. When he was settled in, he’d bring Andi something.

After all, he wanted to make a good impression on his neighbors if he was planning to stay in Paris for any length of time. Tom pulled out a plastic comb from the side zipper of his suitcase and wet it in the kitchen sink. He ran it over his hair, trying to make it lay flat and hoping he looked at least a little pulled together.

“Don’t muck up the furniture,” he said to his kitten, who had taken refuge underneath the pre-furnished couch. He could see her greenish eyes peering out sternly from underneath. He imagined her telling him to be back at a reasonable time. He smiled at her before whisking himself out the door and across the hall. Andi had said the door would be unlocked, so Tom knocked sharply as he turned the knob and stepped inside.

Where his flat was a desolate wasteland, Andi’s apartment was a vastly more colorful world. To his drab, dull Kansas, an Oz. He looked around, impressed by the brash orange furniture and loud purple walls. He let out a low whistle and looked around.

“This is quite the decorating job,” he said with a smile. “You’ll have t’ give me a few tips. My place looks like a holding cell right now.”

[Deleted]

Andi Foster

When they went their separate ways and Andi opened her apartment door, the clock began ticking as her eyes glanced all around the room. She let out an exasperated huff. Alright, so she wasn't entirely obsessive compulsive when it came to organization. She had been so use to living alone and not being a host at all, because she didn't have time for guests, that Andi had the blinded vision of a messy apartment owner. It was at that stage where she was immune to doing a hop over where her clothes pile was, and sharply making a bigger turn around the corner where her unpacked boxes were that she didn't even look at it through the perspective of a guest. This apartment was so not guest ready.

"Crap!" Andi laughed, throwing down her rehearsal bag near the door as she scrambled into the living room. As fast as she could, she began picking up the clothes piles, which she was totally at a loss at how she had organized them, and threw them into her bedroom. There was no reason Tom would be in there, and if she had this sudden urge to invite him onto her bed, that would stop her! Scrunching her toes, she kicked the boxes away toward her bedroom, stacking all the magazines and books she hadn't put away during this process, and putting it all in her bedroom. The bedroom was really the hot spot for hiding.

It wasn't like Andi wasn't clean. Nothing was grimy or dusty. Her things were just everywhere. She was still in the process of settling in and didn't have the time lately to do anything but decorate. Breaking out in a little sweat, she wiped away her forehead with her sleeve. That simple wipe not really helping the fact that she was sweating up a storm, she took off her track jacket and threw it in- surprise- her bedroom, and she was just in a black camisole with lacy fringe on the top. Getting everything out of sight, out of mind, she slid her bedroom door shut. Yes, she was disorganized. There was a difference.

Opening her balcony sliding glass door, she breathed in the fresh Paris air and looked out at the view. What a sight. Making her way into the kitchen, she took out the wine bottle from her rehearsal bag and popped it open. Taking out two glasses she poured a little into each.

Then, the door opened. Andi looked up, finishing the second glass, and smiled when Tom walked in. He was attractive, and that she had continued to think about, each time like she was just discovering it for the first time. She didn't call him 'Twinkling Tom' for nothing. She watched his eyes look around her apartment, thankful that he didn't have eyes that could see through walls, because she'd be totally screwed at ruining her nice apartment.

Tom let out a whistle. “This is quite the decorating job. You’ll have t’ give me a few tips. My place looks like a holding cell right now.”

Coming around from the kitchen counter, Andi picked up the two glasses and smirked. "You just moved in, cut yourself some slack."

Handing him the glass, she smiled, stepping in front of him to begin walking backwards into her living room, leading him out. "Although, if you do need the touch of a woman, you know where to find me." Just like that, Andi Foster turned into a little school girl, not meaning the sexual innuendo. She let out a laugh at herself, finding it silly. Collapsing onto her couch, she snapped her finger at him that turned into a finger gun, and in a fake man voice joked, "That's what she said."