Your landlord is in your apartment with a workman

"Oh! Uh, Mister Smith..." you say, nodding a nervous greeting to your landlord.

The fat man turns, licking his thick lips as he takes in your appearance. Conscious of how the robe barely covers you, you shuffle from foot to foot, unwittingly showing him a little bit more as you move.

"Jenny Rainwood," he says, and it's only when he motions to another man, hardly any less icky than himself, that you realize there's another person there. "This is Jerry Lake. He's finishing up the fire escape door."

"Oh, uh, hello. Um, could you two please exit so I can change? Just for a second."

Mr. Smith shakes his head regretfully, though you can't help but doubt his sincerity. "We're on a schedule here. As you can see, Jerry's brought the door, so we shouldn't be too long."

"Yes, but..." you struggle for a way to convince them, knowing that your first room-mate wannabe could be arriving at any moment, leaving you stuck in a short robe with three people.

"By the way, you won't be having any trouble paying the rent will you?" he asks casually.

"Uh, no," you lie. "Why?"

"Well, I'd hate to go through all this trouble and have it be for nothing. I'd hate for you to break the contract you signed so soon. I've had that happen before, if you can believe it."

Gulping, you nod. given the creepy neighbors surrounding you it seems like just the sort of thing that they'd do. You didn't actually read all of the contract, but Jacob said there were some hefty penalties in it if you were late with the rent or defaulted on it.

"Are you, uh, going to be long?" you ask, receiving a shrug in return. "Well could you please turn around while I change?"

The landlord eyes you, his eyes slowly moving along your body in a way that feels just as oily every time he does it - which is every time he sees you. Finally he gives a half-shrug and nods.

Not trusting him you keep your eyes on him and Jerry as they turn, waiting a few seconds before scanning the floor for the first available clothes. Whipping off the robe you bend to pick them up, turning habitually so that if they did look they wouldn't get the full-frontal view.