Scene setting :
New York City, New York | 6:00 AM
Streets of New York.
The bustling streets of New York had a certain rhythm to them. The fast movement of residents was similar to the scatter of sewer rats, the smell of street food filled their lungs like cold morning air, and the honking of taxis waiting for the early birds was its own symphony. In the chaos of it all, a small section of the Brooklyn district, lived 3 girls whose lives were about to change.
Brooklyn, New York | 6:30 AM
2-bedroom apartment building in the Brooklyn district.
In one of the crammed residences of the apartment building, lived 3 unique women who seemed to live in harmony, fueled by black coffee that stuck to ur nostrils like perfume, noodles meant for budget nights, and the morning gamble of whether the geyser would bless them with ice-cold water or enough heat to withstand the morning air.
Bobbi White ~
A 25-year-old redhead, tattoo artist and tattoo shop owner, standing at 5'4 and even with her small stature, her body could rival any video vixen. The swell of her B-cup breasts was hugged by a tank top which also teased her areolae. The subtle arch of her spine helped highlight her peach-shaped ass that was comfortably tucked in her mom jeans. In all her feminine allure, her tattoos are the first things that garnered attention from onlookers.
After finally dragging herself out of the comfort of her bed, Bobbi made her way to the kitchen, her tapping on the faulty tiles like a tap dance routine, the lingering scent of coffee in her favourite mug, and the soft chirping of birds outside was all she needed to push through another day. She poured herself a fresh batch of coffee, black with no sugar like her ink. The minute the liquid touched the tip of her tongue after the teasing of the slow pour, she let out a sigh she didn't know she was holding.
"Morning, Bobbi ". A voice said, the tone a bit gruff but feminine.
"Morning, Jane". Bobbi replied, the greeting as dry as her humour.
Bobbi's eyes drifted from her cup of coffee to the occupant in the room. A reminder of her responsibilities in this apartment.
Jane Frazer~
A curvy Goth girl,25 years of age like Bobbi. Her moonlight pale skin was covered in her black silk gown which fitted her mistress of the night aesthetic, Her black hair reached her nape and her black slippers were the only thing showing by the lower part of the gown that consumed her form.
"So... you seem to be in a good mood". she replied, with a teasing tone.
"Yeah, I was in a good mood until a certain Goth decided to open her mouth". she snapped back, matching her challenge.
"Aww~ that's the sweetest thing you've ever said to me Bobs". Jane retorted, her sass spilling in her fake tone.
Before the 2 could continue their morning sass battle, the sound of footsteps, echoed from the hallway, a groggy release made itself present in the space like a bad cameo. A few minutes later, another figure entered the kitchen area.
Faith White ~
Bobbi's 22-year-old younger sister, a carbon copy of her except for the contrast of the degree of their freckled faces as Bobbi's was more subtle, compared to Faith's face which was a constellation of them. She wore grey sweats, a crop top that showed her snatched waist and flat stomach, Jane's envy visible from miles away, and on top of the younger White's vibe was the earphones she wore like an extension of her head.
"Morning," she yawned. More to herself than the 2 already present.
"Well... morning to you too, Red," Jane said, smirking with amusement at the younger White's sister.
Bobbi rubbed at her temple, trying to ease the stress of the morning and the impending chaos of the two 'freeloaders ' would bring eventually. "Can we please not do this right now". She asked, the words more of a warning than a plea.
"Sorry". Faith muttered.
"Yeah, my bad Bob". Jane added.
Just like naughty pups, disciplined by their mother, the two let the conversation die down and continued the rhythm of the morning.
"Oh~Bobbi, I almost forgot to tell you that the hot water isn't working ". Faith said, making it sound like it was a mundane task.
"Fuck!"
Scene change,
Woodworking shop, Brooklyn | 7:15 AM
Quercus. Wooden furniture and studio.
In the 2 story building of the woodwork shop, known as Quercus. The Latin word for oak was a sanctuary for high-end, wooden furniture and the process that made the items. The inside was assigned with work areas, stacked with carpentry tools, neatly arranged, a pile of planks in the corner of the house, and the ceiling lights brought warmth to a space meant for sawdust and splinters. A single figure stood by a work desk, cleaning it for the work to come later.
Bo Sanders~
A Carpenter, standing at 6'4, body built like a seasoned lumberjack, medium length brown hair, ending in curls that covered his forehead, beard of equal colour, groomed to perfection and the woodman was wearing fitted grey jeans, his black boots, shined like the morning sun, a tight white tee that strained against his muscles and for either performance or actual diagnosis, he wore framed glasses. Bot goggles to protect him during glasses, normal reading glasses. A truly peculiar man, but his employees call him 'the best boss'. Maybe it was their face that he let them off early on Fridays, either way he kept his attention on his next project.
Bo was a man who functioned off measurements and overcoming nerves, but his 15 years of woodwork couldn't prepare him for the chaos that was the 3 women who were about to take up the majority of his busy life with foolishness and love mixed together.