With his hands in his pockets, Igram greeted the old man, smirked, and followed the detective to her apartment before sending a text to a special someone. She opened the door and let him in. He walked with his hands still in his pocket, taking in the scenery of the tiny apartment.
It was tidy but with almost nothing in it. He walked to the small kitchen, glanced at it, and then turned to face her. "Are you really this poorly paid?"
"None of your business, take a seat," she snapped at him, knowing very well that it was his stupid fault that she lived in such a condition.
"Come and take a seat near the kitchen; I want answers while I cook," she suggested.
He raised his eyes to meet hers, "Why the hurry? Let's get to know each other first," he replied, looking around. Her bedroom door was open and the pictures at the end of the wall got his attention, but before he could move closer to examine what they were, Erica pushed on the door, closing it.
