Home Sweet Home [César]

César was Cloé's brother, best friend, the center of her world since birth; right now she was ready to throttle him. For the benefit of the very nice Realtor who was leading them around an apartment, she was doing so with a pleasant smile. Since moving to England after being scouted by the Gravesend Griffins, the two siblings had shared a single two-bedroom apartment. It seemed like a logical thing to do when they first came to this foreign country. They had been inseparable since birth and the rather sudden life changes had them initially clinging to each other even more. Now that they had both finally settled into their new lives, they found they required a little more space than a single apartment could offer. Cloé couldn't bring a man home with her for fear of one of César's notorious tantrums and for her part the sweetly snarky Italian had deliberately scared away more than a few women before César had the chance to properly woo them. Besides, they had enough money now to have their own places and some of the more unsavory tabloids had started hinting that the siblings chose to share an apartment for more risque reasons; these rumors were not only unfounded, but rather disturbing.

Now the apartment hunting had to start in earnest. On the advice of other teammates, Cloé had chosen a Realtor who was discrete and professional. The last thing they needed was to have a bevy of reporters and photographers following them around as they hunted for a new place to live. The day was going pretty well as far as anonymity went, but Cloé could tell that César was in one of his moods, nevertheless. It would be almost impossible for someone else to spot it, but to Cloé it was obvious. The way he carried his shoulders, the set of his jaw; there were a number of subtle signs that her brother was displeased.

She didn't really blame him. He had a hard time adjusting to England, and going through the long list of apartments made even Cloé homesick. How could people live in places so small and dark? In Italy, even the tiny apartment they had grown up in felt light and airy. Here, everything seemed oppressively drab and close. She missed the easy, open feeling of Italy and France. She missed the sun and joyous noise of Portugal. So far, César had nothing but negative things to say about the places they had seen: too dark, not enough windows, too far from his favorite night clubs, too close to the edge of the wizard section of the city. Cloé knew that moving to England had been hard for him so she tried to muster up the last of her patience. They were coming up on the last listing that the Realtor had for them. This particular location was in Camden. On paper it seemed ideal: two units available at the end of a hall and located directly across from each other.

"This last one has potential," she said to her brother in Portuguese as they emerged from the side-street the portkey had deposited them in. "Try and see it's good points." Cloé was the image runway casual: designer jeans and heels, and a distressed "Weird Sisters" top she had gotten from a recent concert. Her hair was styled and hanging in loose waves around her face. Her eye make-up was done in shades of copper and deep purple to accentuate her chocolate-brown eyes while her lips were simple and sweet in a gloss with just a hint of color. "Besides," she continued, still in Portuguese, in a teasing voice, "I hear this area of town is just full of pretty girls."

César was tired and annoyed, though perhaps the casual observer would not pick up on that fact. Outwardly, he tried to appear amiable, and to his credit, he had made it this long without lashing out at anyone. Today, Cloé had arranged for them to meet with a Realtor and tour of what felt like hundreds but was really only about a dozen flats throughout the City of London. So far, the day felt like a giant waste. Nothing they had seen up until now had pleased him, and every flat they viewed had far too many negatives outweighing the positives.

He knew it was time for them to separate and move into their own spaces. His sister, dearly as he loved her, certainly drove him plenty crazy. The closeness of their living quarters left him feeling stifled, unable to bring women home unless Cloé happened to be out. It felt too much like he had to sneak around, and he disliked the perceived restrictions her near-constant presence placed on his lifestyle. Back in Portugal, he had enjoyed so much more freedom. He had also enjoyed the climate, the cuisine, the language, even the people much better than what he had experienced in England. It had been almost six months, and it was a slow adjustment for him. At least he had Cloé with him, helping him with the transition. Had she not been here, he may very well have quit long before now.

Still, he was loath to leave his sister. She did most of the cooking and was handy with cleaning spells. She took care of booking all their appointments. His reluctance to change their situation combined with the filthy rumors being spread about them by some of the English rags that passed for gossip papers both fueled his sour mood that day. César was conscious of his image, and the last thing he needed was further smearing of it. The brawl hadn’t done him any favors, and the struggle to rebuild his reputation was more painful than he would ever publicly acknowledge.

"This last one has potential. Try and see it's good points.”

“All right,” he responded in Italian, feeling contrary. He smiled at the Realtor, a pretty witch who looked to be in her mid-thirties, his eyebrows lifting slightly as if to apologize for speaking in a foreign language in her presence. César was freshly shaven and impeccably dressed, as usual, in a dark grey fitted t-shirt, smart black blazer, and perfectly-creased black slacks. On his feet, he wore Italian black leather loafers. He buried his hands in his trouser pockets as they entered the building, hanging back a bit so the women could enter first. At Cloé’s mention of the neighborhood being filled with pretty girls, he shot her a sidelong glance, his mouth and jaw relaxing as his expression softened. “Oh really? What about the men?” he said playfully, still in Italian, his tone matching hers.

The available units were located on the second floor, which meant they had to climb a set of stairs to reach them. César followed the two women up the stairs, keeping quiet as they talked. He could pick up most of the conversation, but since they were speaking rapidly in English, he wasn’t able to catch all of the words. The Realtor was enthusiastically expounding upon the virtues of the units, which elicited an eye-roll from César. Luckily, no one saw his display of attitude, and when Cloé turned to him as they arrived at the door of the first flat, he smiled. “Ready?” he asked, switching to English for the benefit of their Realtor.

From the outside, the building had potential. Cloé could see large windows facing out into the street. Anwen, who insisted that the two siblings call her by her first name, was listing off the number of up-and-coming restaurants and clubs in the area. The number was higher than Cloé had anticipated, including a number of places that she had heard about from various reliable and trendy sources. Maybe this last location could be a good fit.

Cloé pressed a hand to her chest and sighed dramatically at her older brother. "Alas," she replied, switching to Italian, "the men are ugly as sin. My virtue is in no danger if we move into this place." She fluttered her eyes and gave him a teasing smile before turning back to Anwen. Without being asked, the witch launched into a sales pitch, highlighting the best aspects of the apartments.

"The apartments are on opposite walls of the same hallway. Each one has a large living area and a spacious master bedroom with attached water closet and shower." As they approached the first unit, Anwen looked down at her notes, then back up at the pair. "This is the first unit," she said as she opened the door, letting Cloé and César into the room. Cloé has expected it to be dark like most of the other places they visited, but found the room awash in natural sunlight. One entire long wall was nothing but ceiling-high windows which let in a ridiculous amount of light.

To the right of the door was a loft space, underneath which was what looked to be a kind of reading nook set-up with plenty of shelving. The floor was all hardwood, a rich golden brown that glowed in the ample sunlight. "So far, this is my favorite," she said, reverting back to English for the sake of Anwen. "It feels lighter, more airy." It helped that the ceiling was high, although the supports were in a kind of silvery metal. Cloé was not a fan of the industrial look, but she could think of more than a few ways to cover the beams and soften the aesthetic.

Around a corner was the kitchen, and the door to the master bedroom. The kitchen more than large enough to cook in, with ample counter-top space and a ledge that could easily serve as a bar. The bedroom door was open, and Cloé could see that the pretty hardwood floors extended into this room as well. The room would comfortably fit a queen-sized bed, but Cloé was far more interested in the closet space. She had quite a few pieces of clothing and she would need plenty of room for all of it. He wish was granted as the small hallway which lead into the bathroom was completely lined with shelves and space for hanging clothes. "This might just fit all my stuff," she said thoughtfully. "Although," she continued, turning to César, "you might have trouble fitting all of your clothes into here." She was teasing him a little; César had a collection of designer suits and shoes to rival her own.

"The bathroom was recently remodeled," Anwen called out as she moved into that space. "New tiles, new lighting, new faucets. It was almost completely redone." The bathroom was done in whites and silvers, with an oval mirror in a silver frame and an over-sized claw-footed tub with a showerhead above it. "Where does this door lead?" Cloé asked as she opened a door and stuck her head out into the hallway again. "Oh," she exclaimed, "so you could have guests use the WC without having them go through the bedroom? Wonderful!" She turned, hoping to get some sign of César's mood by looking at him. In her mind, this was by the far the nicest place they had looked at and it seemed like it could really be a contender."

As the door swung open, the first thing that struck César was the light which filtered through the large windows, filling the spacious living area. It reminded him of his flat in Braga, and his mind wandered back to his time there. True, the English weather had nothing on the sunny climate of Portugal. Still, a flat that felt so open and inviting, with windows big enough to capture what natural light there was to be had, could go a long way in making him feel at home in what still felt like a foreign country to him. The industrial look of this flat did not bother him, although it was perhaps a touch more modern than he was accustomed to, but that was not enough to deter his growing enthusiasm for the flat.

César found himself walking slowly about the place, gently running his fingers along the shelving in the reading nook before making his way into the kitchen. As a tactile person, he constantly needed reassurance through touch, and so far he liked what he felt. The wood of the doors felt solid, while the kitchen counter felt refreshingly cool beneath his hands. Idly, he turned the handles on the kitchen faucet, watching as the water gushed forth. He was not listening to a thing Anwen was saying, instead lost in his own head as he began to imagine actually living in this place. It would surely be an upgrade from their current living situation. To have all this space to himself would be an unheard-of luxury. His flat in Braga was much smaller, and while he was at Beauxbâtons, his living space had been shared between several other boys. The last time he’d had such a large space to himself was as a young child, before the divorce, during a time he barely remembered.

Cloé’s quip about the closet space brought him back to the present. Looking over at her, he smiled and shook his head. “Speak for yourself,” he teased back, laughing softly. Both siblings had an enormous wardrobe, and César added to his all the time, donating his outdated pieces to charity or selling them back to secondhand stores. They both inherited their love of fashion from their incredibly beautiful and stylish mother, though from the few times he had seen their father since becoming an adult, César knew that the older man always looked sharp, too. In their present situation, the sheer volume of their clothing was becoming a problem. Their closets were full to bursting, causing a mess that made him uncomfortable.

He was still absorbed in perusing the bedroom area when he heard Cloé squealing something about the loo. Emerging from the bedroom, he caught her gaze, a mixture of hopefulness and cheerfulness in her eyes. It was hard for him to refuse her anything when she looked at him like that, but he was not yet ready to let on just how much he liked this flat. He turned his head toward Anwen, who was looking back and forth between the two of them. “Would we be able to view the other unit?” he asked. He glanced quickly at his sister, carefully keeping his expression neutral as he slid his hands back into his pockets.

Cloé knew it was a good sign when César asked if they could see the second unit. There had been a few locations where the pick Italian had refused to even walk into the building, so this was a marked improvement. She flashed him a little smile as she bounced past him. She looked over her shoulder at him before turning the corner, silently adding, You like it, as she followed Anwen out the door and into the next apartment. The day, which had started out more than a little miserable, was looking up.

The layout in this one was similar to the other unit. There were a few differences that could be seen in the main room. It had fewer windows, but added a skylight and a balcony big enough to put a small table and chair set. The view from the balcony was nice; facing the west, it would give a perfect backdrop for sunset dinners or wine-drinking. The kitchen was a galley, but the extra space freed up was used for a small loo. The bedroom and attached bath were of comparable size to the previous unit. The style of the unit was still industrial, but in a slight darker hue than the one they had previously visited. Here, the wood flooring was a deep cedar; reddish-brown planks broken up by the occasional golden streak. The counter top was sandstone in a dark brown freckled with gold and cream.

Cloé let Anwen wander off a bit before turning to César. "So," she asked in their native Italian, "what do you think?" She kept her voice low and calm, but she bounced on her heels in excitement as she stood next to her big brother. She really liked these rooms. It was unlikely that they'd get something as good if they waited. "I want the first unit." It could't hurt to state her preferences early, as they would have to have this discussion sooner or later. "It has a bigger kitchen, and I cook more."

OOC: sorry it's so short!

César saw the look Cloé sent him as she passed him on their way out the door. He had to resist the urge to stick his tongue out at her, reminding himself that they were mature, grown adults, not children. He chose not to answer her look, instead opting for a mysterious smile as he followed her and Anwen out the door of the first unit and into the second unit. Cloé was right - he did like the unit. The fact that there was a neighboring unit just across the hall did not hurt. Being able to remain close to his sister even while they lived separately was of the utmost importance to him.

The second unit resonated with him even more strongly than the first. He liked the darker edge to this unit, as well as the fact that it had a balcony. It would be just the place for him to relax with a glass of his favorite Italian wine when he had the odd night off from Quidditch. As with the first unit, he slowly walked around the entire place, touching everything he could: doors, walls, countertops, and windows. This unit felt right, even more so than the first. When Cloé spoke to him in Italian, asking how he liked the unit, he turned to her and responded in Italian, “I like them.” Now that he had seen the second unit, he was more than ready to commit.

As Cloé intimated her preference for the first unit, César grinned. “That’s good, because I like this one better,” he told her, a brief laugh escaping his lips. It was a good thing that they didn’t both have their hearts set on the same unit. Experience told him that that could lead to a fight, and when the Cardozo siblings fought, it wasn’t pretty. Their fights never lasted long, but they were loud and brutal nonetheless. César preferred to avoid a fight with his sister at all costs. Reverting to English, he addressed Anwen. “We’ll take them,” he said, his tone decisive. Next to him, Cloé was practically vibrating with excitement. “Wonderful! We can go back to my office and you can sign all the necessary paperwork,” Anwen replied, a cheerful smile on her face. César nodded, following Cloé and Anwen as they exited the flat and made their way back down to the street below. After hours of touring, he was relieved to have finally found a place to live. He couldn’t wait to have his own space, and already the wheels in his head were turning as he planned how he would arrange his new quarters.