"In the flesh," Isaac said, almost begrudgingly. He began to drive. "I heard about what Lars showed you, and I don't particularly agree with his reasoning. However," He paused. "Seeing as the cat's out of the bag now, I guess we may as well do some damage control." He was heading out of the city and into an older suburb.
"If you're going to report on this, then I want to ensure that the privacy of everyone involved is maintained. I don't want to see my house on the 5 o'clock news. Or the church, for that matter." The houses in this neighborhood were a little on the run down side. The one they pulled into the driveway of was no different. It's lawn was mowed and neat, but the paint was peeling and the driveway was black with mildew.
Isaac stepped out of the car. "More importantly, while I may agree to this, there is one other person you have to convince." His keys jangled as he unlocked the front door. "Lucas is incredibly stubborn, and I have no intention of arguing with him." The house was quaint enough inside. It was fairly organized, if not terribly outdated. He walked her down a wood paneled hallway, and stopped at what looked like a, you guessed it, basement door.
"I won't agree to any interviews or documentaries until Lucas agrees as well. I told him you'd be stopping by to pay him a visit. Good luck." He opened the basement door and motioned towards the steps. Down below the stairwell led into a hall, which then lead into a large, open basement room. It was dimly lit by a single light bulb. Soft music was wafting from down below, from the unmistakable sound of a record player. The song was Louis Armstrong's La Vie En Rose. The tonal difference between the sweet song and the stark, concrete walls was baffling.
Isaac didn't come down with her. When she descended, it was only her and Lucas to sort out their differences. Lucas's dwelling consisted of the cement floored room with no windows. He had a twin bed pushed against one wall, the basement bathroom in all of it's green tiled glory, and several mismatched tables and odds and ends furniture here and there. It such a strange living space.
Lucas sat in a swivel chair, which he spun in to face the woman as she came down. He tugged his scarf up to further cover his face, and didn't make eye contact. It was very clear that he didn't enjoy his safe space being invaded. The record player, sitting on a table with a couple of books, popped and crackled softly as the music played.