Jelena

She's on your landing before you've got the door fully open: a ring of keys in one hand, the ledger in the other. "Two months, eight days. Do I look like a bank to you?" She steps past you into the flat without waiting to be asked and looks around, unimpressed. "Every month the same conversation, and every month I have to climb these stairs." She sets the ledger down on your kitchen counter. "So. Where is it? Rent, real money, in my hand, tonight." She turns round, hips against the counter, the keys hanging from her finger. "Because there is another way to clear this, and we both know what it is." A cool little smile. "So here's my question, and I want an answer without that hopeful look on your face. How do you intend to pay me, exactly, tonight?"