[Setting: A Quaint Yet Questionable Apartment Complex]

Elliot and Claire step out of an Uber, staring at the building in front of them. It’s… unique. The architecture feels like it couldn’t decide whether it wanted to be modern or mid-century, and the faded “NOW RENTING” banner flapping in the breeze doesn’t inspire much confidence.

Claire (adjusting her bag, sighing): “This has to be the last place, right? If this one’s a bust, I’m buying a tent.”

Elliot (grimacing): “Oh yeah, that’ll be cozy. ‘Home is where the tarp is.’”

Before Claire can respond, a man in a sharply tailored suit—complete with a tie patterned with tiny houses—steps out from behind the rental sign. It’s Sable, the God of Irony, holding a clipboard and radiating unearned authority.

Sable (beaming): “Welcome to your future! I’m Sable, your friendly neighborhood realtor. And by friendly, I mean devastatingly effective.”

Claire (squinting): “Wait, you’re a realtor now? You’re everywhere.”

Sable (nodding sagely): “Everywhere, but never redundant. And, coincidentally, exactly what you need right now.”

Elliot (muttering): “Oh, this is going to be good.”

Scene 1: The Lobby

Sable ushers them into the building, where the air smells faintly of popcorn and regret. The lobby features a single, threadbare couch, a dying plant, and an elevator with an “OUT OF ORDER” sign.

Sable (gesturing grandly): “Behold! The beating heart of this architectural marvel. A space that tells a story.”

Claire (raising an eyebrow): “The story of what? Neglect?”

Sable (grinning): “Ah, but every tale has its twist! This couch, for example, has survived two floods, three hurricanes, and a small fire. A testament to resilience, don’t you think?”

Elliot (pointing at the elevator): “What about that? Is the twist that it never worked in the first place?”

Sable (nodding solemnly): “No, the twist is that it works when it wants to. Much like the human heart.”

Claire (deadpan): “So, stairs then.”

Scene 2: The Apartment Tour

They trudge up three flights of creaky stairs and stop in front of an apartment door that looks like it’s been kicked open one too many times. Sable swings the door open with a flourish.

Sable: “Welcome to destiny! Or, at least, 3B.”

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The apartment itself is… eclectic. The walls are painted an aggressive shade of yellow, the kitchen appliances look like they’ve been pulled from three different decades, and there’s a single, mysterious stain on the carpet.

Claire (wrinkling her nose): “It’s… a lot.”

Sable (clapping his hands): “Yes! A lot of potential! Picture it: Your furniture here, a little paint there. A home isn’t found, my dear—it’s created.”

Elliot (examining the stain): “And what’s this? A Rorschach test?”

Sable (nodding approvingly): “Exactly! It’s art. It’s a conversation starter. It’s whatever you need it to be.”

Claire (pinching the bridge of her nose): “Do you have any other units available?”

The Sprawling Narrative: “Home Is Where the Irony Is”

Sable leans against the counter, adopting his best storyteller’s posture.

Sable: “You know, this reminds me of the first home I ever helped someone find. It was a young couple—full of dreams, utterly clueless. They wanted perfection. A white picket fence, a spacious yard, rooms that caught the golden hour just so.”

Elliot (crossing his arms): “And let me guess, you showed them a shack in the woods.”

Sable (grinning): “Close! I showed them a cottage. Quaint, charming, slightly haunted. They hated it at first. Drafty windows, creaky floors, a suspicious attic door that wouldn’t stay shut. But then, something happened.”

Claire (curious despite herself): “What?”

Sable: “They stayed. They painted the walls, fixed the floors, turned that attic into a nursery. And the ghosts? Well, they got used to them. By the time they moved out, it wasn’t just a house—it was a home. One they never forgot.”

Elliot (frowning): “So, what, you’re saying we should settle for something haunted and call it a day?”

Sable (shrugging): “I’m saying a home isn’t about what it is—it’s about what you make of it. Even the draftiest of houses can keep you warm, if you let it.”

Scene 3: The Rooftop

Sable leads them to the building’s rooftop, which, despite everything, offers a stunning view of the city skyline. The sunset bathes the buildings in gold and pink, and for a moment, it’s almost enough to forget the questionable stairs and stained carpet.

Claire (softly): “Okay, this is… actually nice.”

Elliot (reluctantly): “Yeah. I could maybe get used to this.”

Sable (leaning on the railing, smirking): “See? Even irony has its moments.”

As they stand there, a goat trots onto the rooftop, carrying a potted plant in its mouth. It deposits the plant at Sable’s feet and bleats loudly before disappearing back down the stairs.

Claire (blinking): “Was that—?”

Sable (nodding): “The building mascot. Very dedicated to his work.”

Elliot (shaking his head): “I don’t even want to know.”

The Closing Pitch

Back in the apartment, Sable hands them the lease agreement with a flourish.

Sable: “So, what do you say? Ready to write your own story?”

Claire and Elliot exchange a look. The apartment isn’t perfect, but there’s something about it—something they can’t quite put into words. They nod.

Elliot: “Fine. But if that goat starts charging rent, we’re out.”

Sable (grinning): “Deal. And remember—home is what you make it. Even if what you make includes a few surprises.”

Sable (under his breath as they leave): “Every story starts somewhere. And sometimes, where it starts is... where it ends. Coincidentally, of course.”

[End Scene]

[retcon:1]