She opened the door and we walked inside. "I hate wearing this stuff," she said, pointing to her uniform, "I am going to change before we talk."
"Sounds good," I replied. She walked to a different room.
Her apartment itself was surprisingly nice for the unpleasant wrapping. I had walked into a small living room with freshly painted walls and a new couch against one wall and a chair opposite it. I could see on the far side of the room a bar with a galley kitchen behind it. Michele had darted into a room to the right of the kitchen that I assumed was a bedroom. There was no bathroom, but I figured it was through the bedroom. I decided to make myself comfortable so I would be harder to kick out. I walked over to the couch and sat down.
A few moments later Michele returned from the bedroom.
