[most of the apartment is the same as Hisoka would have seen it before. the same quiet sense about it, the same order broken up by books in casually random places, by the subtle signs of someone actually living in the place. a notebook by the couch is simply a planner, events marked down and a few appointments, along with a list of everyone on the team's birthdays. the beginnings of a grocery list stuck on the fridge, one of his customary black coats thrown on the end of the couch (with empty pockets).
then, of course, is the room he hasn't seen. Chrollo's bedroom, which is not so much a contrast to the rest of the apartment as it is simply more alive. here, books live on two sets of shelves, mismatched but tucked away. here he has a desk, the space where a laptop would be vacant - of course he took it with him - but a notebook where some of his thoughts on design and color are, ideas for what's forthcoming, pens and pencils jammed into a cup along with a box cutter. here, on one of the walls, is a pair of photos from a place that is definitely not this city - sunrise and sunset.
the desk drawer, lucky for Hisoka, isn't locked. and inside are a few items of interest - a pair of very well worn leather gloves, a key with a plain tag reading "017", a slender wooden box that contains five dark glass vials of something unknown (six slots. one vial is missing), and several typewritten pages that look to be letters, if ones written entirely in Russian. whoever wrote them, what would be the signing off is the same.
of course, that's not the only place someone can hide their secrets, or items they stole from a dead man. there's still his closet and his dresser.]
IT'S OK
then, of course, is the room he hasn't seen. Chrollo's bedroom, which is not so much a contrast to the rest of the apartment as it is simply more alive. here, books live on two sets of shelves, mismatched but tucked away. here he has a desk, the space where a laptop would be vacant - of course he took it with him - but a notebook where some of his thoughts on design and color are, ideas for what's forthcoming, pens and pencils jammed into a cup along with a box cutter. here, on one of the walls, is a pair of photos from a place that is definitely not this city - sunrise and sunset.
the desk drawer, lucky for Hisoka, isn't locked. and inside are a few items of interest - a pair of very well worn leather gloves, a key with a plain tag reading "017", a slender wooden box that contains five dark glass vials of something unknown (six slots. one vial is missing), and several typewritten pages that look to be letters, if ones written entirely in Russian. whoever wrote them, what would be the signing off is the same.
of course, that's not the only place someone can hide their secrets, or items they stole from a dead man. there's still his closet and his dresser.]