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"It doesn’t matter how it looks," she said, shrugging her shoulders as she placed her hands into his and they quickly entered the building. "I think whatever it looks like would just perfectly describe your personality." She commented with a small laugh.
"I mean…look at Garfield’s bedroom, it is messy but it just tells him that he is a… wild and active man who’s still young," she explained. "Besides…are you not an artist? I thought they are…well…unorganized—I’m sure there’s still a charm.”
"I meant the building itself," he chuckled, offering his arm again as he led her into the main entryway. It was just as he warned, nothing spectacular, which was actually a little odd for Joey to be around. Despite his constant desire to live a rather bohemian kind of life, Joey’s parents were part of the reason why he only imitated it in more expensive ways. This was the legitimate thing, with dirty stained walls, the vinyl flooring peeling at the edges, and poor lighting - and this was only the path to the elevator. A simple freight elevator waited for them, the kind he had to pull the squealing rusted gate across for, and that shook and cried out with strain with just the two of them inside.
The run-down environment only stopped when they reached the apartment on the sixth floor. He unlocked the door and ushered her inside rather quickly, the air already heavy with the smell of paint and canvas. It was pretty obvious that he’d brought her back to his apartment just from the first look inside, but he didn’t even acknowledge it, instead opening up the one bedroom door and heading inside to turn the light on. He’d crammed his life into the main room of the apartment just to turn the bedroom into a studio workspace. Definitely not as glamorous as the last one he’d had in his mother’s home, but it worked fine for now.
"Sorry about the mess," he called back to her, picking up some scattered canvas and supplies from the floor to set them off to the side.