A/N: to make up for yesterday's absence of an update, and 'cause option B was still leading in the poll from chapter 1 at that point. Hope ya'll are enjoying these :)

Working on autopilot isn't something Irene does a lot, but she finds herself doing it since this morning. Never one to make a commotion, she has a hard time shaking the embarrassment of this morning.

Now, she isn't one to have an esteem relationship with her neighbours, but at least she was neutral with the lot of them. To make it worse, it just had to be her neighbour that lived directly across from her. They're the hardest to dodge.

It's easy to avoid people when she knew somewhat of their schedule and routine. It's another issue when this neighbour is new, and Irene has nothing but a small glimpse and awkward first meeting to stem all her information off.

The girl looked young and not the most welcoming. But who's to blame? Joy and she were tussling outside her door at 7 in the morning. Anyone who had to wake up to that wouldn't be welcoming in the slightest.

However, it isn't like her nosy neighbours to get details wrong. She was anything but blonde. Sure, the ends of her hair were dyed, but it was grey or silver at most. Nothing close to being that of an entire blonde. And not to sound like a creep, but Irene had taken a glimpse down to try see any of a tattoo on her legs, hoping they looped around from her calf as Irene had saw the morning before, but nothing.

Safe to say though, maybe the tattoo just didn't extend that far. Because from the worn out, muscle tank the girl had been wearing, Irene did spot a bit of ink that travelled over the expanse of her shoulder.

The clink of a coffee mug contacting her desk pulls Irene from her replaying her morning memories. From the steam puffing out from the scalding coffee, Irene's sight travels from the mug to her co-worker smiling in front of her desk.

“What's got you thinking so hard?”

Saving her file, she rolls her chair a bit to get comfortable, sliding her hand through the mug’s handle before cradling the hot drink in her palms. It may be the devil's oven outside, but her office's air-conditioning was cranked up to match the arctic. Who knew she'd miss the warmth of anything in summer.

“Just a client's case.”

A white lie never hurt anybody. Especially a co-worker making small talk, or at least trying to. It was a believable lie anyways. Irene never one to talk about anything but work-related matters, if she ever talked to anyone at work at all that is. Doesn't stop people from trying to be friendly. It's nice, she supposes.

“Crunching numbers must be mind-numbing.”

Sipping the stale coffee, she wonders how a big company like theirs can't afford coffee worth digesting. A company out to save people's money cutting corners to save their own, makes sense Irene reasons. Having worked here for years though, there's a unique liking one gains from drinking the free coffee every day. It's not a good unique, but has changed from the bad, metallic one she used to think it was.

“You get used to it.”

Throwing them a bone never crosses Irene's mind. Her answers are never one’s people could expand on. Just crisp and short. Straight to the point and never venturing far from the topic brought up. Why people continue to try converse with her is a mystery.

But hey, at least they come with a mug of coffee so she doesn't have to leave her desk to grab one herself. A perk, she guesses.

“It's almost lunchtime. Any chance you'd like to join the rest of us? There's this new restaurant that's opened around the corner. Italian.”

Her co-worker fidgets on the spot as she stares at them, sipping her coffee, mulling over the offer. To be very frank, the thought of leaving her air-conditioned office space to walk through the blazing heat just for some new Italian joint was just downright awful. The furthest she'll go is down to the ground floor. Cafeteria food was never a bad option. Sure, the three options of sushi, sandwiches, or Chinese food does get a little boring and repetitive, but it was just so darn close and, in the AC.

“Think I'll pass this time. Thanks for the offer though. Raincheck?”

She's said it countless times before, but never has she been good on her words. And the way her co-worker deflates makes it that much more obvious and has her feeling just a little bad.

“Yeah. Next time!”

With a smile that Irene returns with a professional one, she's left alone with a half empty mug of coffee and office. One day, she notes in her head. One day she'll go out to eat and make friends with her co-workers.

Just not today.

With that, she slips her hands from the mug, stretches her back with a crack, and goes back to work. One more page then she'll head down for some lunch.

--

It's strange arriving home to the darkness and silence. Having Joy's constant presence at her apartment had her expecting her friend to be there when she got home.

Slipping out from her heels, she drops her purse and keys onto the hallway table, her keys creating an echo through her apartment with the impact it makes against the bowl shaped like a key – the only apartment-warming gift Joy had given her when she first moved in. She drags her feet against her cool floorboards, legs too tired to even lift them after the walk up she had.

Maybe she should check if the elevators are up and running.

It's a thought that gets pushed back as she opens her fridge and sees the leftover dinner from yesterday. She grabs it with a ghost of a smile.

The tv is for background noise, to be honest. Irene's mind too preoccupied with eating to take in what's playing now.

Microwaved leftovers are honestly one of her favourites. There’s just something about it that she enjoys. But even if she knows it tastes just as good as it did last night, for some reason that she doesn't want to ruminate over too much, she doesn't enjoy it as well as she did the night before. Nonetheless, the food is impeccable.

Not in the mood to stay up, nor does she have a reason to as there's no one keeping her up, Irene quickly does the dishes before calling it a night. As she turns off all the lights, she heads to turn off the hallway one when the sound of hurried feet and a door yanked open from outside her closed one catches her curiosity.

Deciding to take a quick peek after she hears a door slamming shut, Irene pokes her head out just in time to catch the last of blonde hair whipping around the corner.

Strange. It's almost ten at night, where could her new neighbour be in a rush to be at?

But also, strange, Irene could be certain that that was blonde hair she saw. Not the tips of the grey-silver from this morning