As far as Tessa knew - or at least as far as Red thought she knew - their bi-weekly meetings were simply a drop-off. Red was happy for the business and the sex, but they were also to make sure she was okay - that she hadn't been killed by one of her kind neighbors or humble patrons. She talked lazily about her clients. No names, just descriptions of the usual kinds of men that hired girls like her. Old, fat, abusive. He saw the marks they left on her fragile body, the way they used her and tossed her aside. In Red's loud and often-stated opinion, the money wasn't worth the damage she suffered. She would end up dead as soon as someone forgot she was a real human.
Tessa's apartment number swung upside down on one nail, its twin had fallen out long ago. Red knocked on the door and waited, pushing his long hair over to one shoulder. The spare key he had somehow forced out of her nestled on his keyring just in case. He always wondered how long to wait before letting himself in, but she always opened the door just before he reached into his pocket, revealing whatever sorry state her last customer had left her in.
TAG @TESSA LITTLE