He turn to another page. And read it, slowly while enjoying the diner noise.
Mike Ross
Third Floor.(31)
Tenant. Raymond's Lawyer and Financial Advisor
Maintenance: None.
Notes: busy, always in his room working
Raymond recalled the phone call he had with Mike.
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Ray's Diner basked in the mellow glow of mid-afternoon sunlight, the beams slanting through the wide windows and casting golden stripes across the retro booths. The hum of the neon sign outside mixed with the faint hiss of the coffee machine, but inside, the diner was unusually calm—a rare pocket of peace in its normally chaotic rhythm.
Raymond sat in his favorite corner booth, the one that allowed him to watch the whole diner without being too close to the action. A steaming cup of coffee rested before him, and his fingers traced the rim absently as he flipped the pages of a well-worn book. For a moment, the world outside felt distant, and he could simply enjoy the quiet.
At the counter, Max moved with practiced efficiency, wiping down the surface while Haley arranged condiments and polished the silverware.
"You think anyone will come in before the evening rush?" Haley asked, glancing up from the tray of freshly baked cookies.
Max didn't look up. "Doubt it. Mid-afternoon lull. Perfect time to test if your coffee-making skills can survive without causing casualties."
"Oh, so I only have five minutes before I accidentally poison someone? Got it," Haley said, smirking.
"Exactly," Max replied, a grin tugging at her lips. "And don't forget the tip—smooth service, zero casualties, and maybe a smile. Optional."
"Optional? You're cruel," Haley laughed, sliding the tray toward the kitchen pass-through.
Raymond glanced up from his book, one eyebrow raised, but a small smile crept across his face.
"I like hearing the calm chatter," he said lightly. "Makes it feel like the place isn't conspiring against me for once."
"Conspiring?" Max rolled her eyes and tossed the rag over her shoulder. "Nah. We just let the chaos breathe a little. Makes it appreciate the calm more when it hits."
"You mean when it inevitably explodes at six p.m.?" Haley added with a knowing grin.
"Precisely," Max said, mock-seriously. "That's why we savor these moments—because we know what's coming."
Raymond took a slow sip of his coffee and shook his head with a quiet chuckle. "You two make this sound like a battle strategy rather than running a diner."
"Well, in a way, it is," Haley admitted, leaning against the counter. "But at least the weapons are pancakes and coffee, not grenades."
"Mostly," Max said with a sly glance toward the grill, which sat silently for the moment.
The three shared a brief laugh. Raymond returned to his book, content in the warm, peaceful hum of Ray's Diner, though he kept an ear tuned to Max and Haley, knowing this calm was only temporary.
Raymond's phone buzzed insistently on the table, cutting through the gentle hum of the diner. He glanced down, then reached for it, lifting the receiver to his ear. Max and Haley, curious as ever, leaned just slightly closer, pretending to tidy the counter but straining to eavesdrop on the conversation.
"Mike? Good morning," Raymond said, his voice calm and measured. "How did it go in New York?"
"Morning, sir," came the reply, tinged with exhaustion. "Finally wrapped it up. Every last asset accounted for, filed, audited. I double-checked everything. Just… checking in for next instructions."
Raymond leaned back slightly, his fingers absently tracing the rim of his coffee cup. Outside, the lake shimmered under the morning sun, a serene contrast to the quiet tension in his voice.
"No instructions for now, Mike," Raymond said, a faint smirk tugging at his lips. "Enjoy your morning. Catch your breath. Take a break—maybe for once, do something for yourself."
There was a sigh on the other end, heavy with relief and longing. "I… I was actually going to ask about that. Is there any chance… a vacant room in your building? I've been thinking it's time to relocate to Los Angeles. Maybe… slow down. Actually enjoy life for a bit."
Raymond chuckled, shaking his head slightly. The sound carried across the patio, mingling with the faint clatter of coffee cups.
"Mike… you're always welcome here," he said, voice warm and almost teasing. "The diner, the building, the chaos… it's all yours if you want it."
There was a pause, then relief softened Mike's tone. "Really? That… that's good to hear. I'll make the arrangements. I should be there tomorrow."
"Perfect. I'll be waiting," Raymond said, his voice matter-of-fact but friendly. "There's a room ready for you, Mike. And maybe… you'll finally get to enjoy a cup of coffee that isn't written in an expense report."
"I'll hold you to that, sir. Thanks. I'll see you tomorrow," Mike said, laughter threading his words.
Raymond ended the call and exhaled slowly, returning to his posture of quiet ease. The smirk lingered as he set the phone down.
At that moment, Max and Haley, unable to contain themselves, both leaned in closer. "Who's the new tenant?" Max asked, curiosity crackling in her tone.
Raymond chuckled, setting his coffee down and finally looking directly at them. "It's Mike Ross. He's coming tomorrow. Newest addition to our… little chaos."
Haley's eyes widened. "Who is he."
"My Lawyer," Raymond confirmed, voice lightly amused.
Max leaned back, folding her arms with a sly grin. "Oh, this is going to be interesting."
Haley shook her head, a laugh escaping her lips. "Of course he's coming here. Just when I thought the diner couldn't get more chaotic."
Raymond smiled, the faint glimmer of amusement dancing in his eyes. "Welcome to the family. And Max, Haley… get ready. Mike's arrival is exactly the kind of chaos this diner thrives on."
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He took another sip of the coffee, and return to his notebook.
Brenda Leigh Johnson
Fourth Floor.(42)
Tenant.
Maintenance: Some light are flickering.
Notes: Come home at night and have sweet-tooth
Raymond remembered, how Brenda join the chaos in his building
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The morning sun spilled across the second-floor terrace, painting the space in golden hues. Raymond leaned casually against the railing, the cool breeze carrying the faint scent of coffee drifting from the diner below. Beside him, House sprawled in the chair he had claimed as his own, cane set aside, his expression a mixture of suspicion and mild irritation. Trixie, decked out in a tiny white lab coat with her stethoscope dangling around her neck, pranced around with uncontainable energy, while Leonard and Sheldon sat nearby, observing the spectacle with varying degrees of dread and fascination.
"I'm telling you, Uncle House, your heartbeat is all wrong," Trixie announced solemnly, pressing the stethoscope to his chest. "And your temperature—it's… wait, let me check." She adjusted the oversized earpieces, squinting at his face. "Oh no! You might have… a case of the Mondays!"
House groaned dramatically, rolling his eyes. "Trixie, I assure you, my Monday syndrome is terminal. You can't cure genius with candy and band-aids."
Raymond chuckled, taking a slow sip of his coffee. "She's very thorough, House. Don't underestimate her."
"She's a menace," Leonard muttered, adjusting his glasses. "But highly organized. I'll grant her that."
Sheldon, never one to sit idly by, piped up, tapping his fingers on the railing. "Actually, from a medical perspective, Trixie is exhibiting strong diagnostic instincts. Her pulse-reading technique is rudimentary but promising. If she expands her data set beyond familial subjects, she could become… formidable."
House rolled his eyes so hard it was almost audible. "Fantastic. My health is in the hands of a kindergartner and a theoretical physicist. What could go wrong?"
Trixie, unfazed, adjusted her imaginary clipboard and scribbled notes. "I'll prescribe you some chicken soup and extra hugs. That usually works for broken hearts."
House blinked at her, genuinely curious. "Broken hearts, huh? Do you treat those too, Dr. Trixie?"
"Of course!" she said, eyes wide. "Sometimes hugs and cookies fix everything." She tapped her stethoscope again. "Oh! And don't forget water! Hydrate or die, Uncle House."
Raymond laughed, shaking his head. "I think she might actually be onto something. You've been a little grumpy lately."
House sat up, placing his hands on his chest dramatically. "Grumpy? I prefer the term 'existentially aware of the universe's stupidity.' But thank you for the medical intervention, Doctor."
Meanwhile, Leonard and Sheldon exchanged glances, silently noting every move Trixie made. Sheldon whispered, "Her approach is chaotic yet efficient. Fascinating." Leonard rolled his eyes. "Yeah, fascinatingly terrifying."
From the diner below, the faint aroma of fresh coffee mixed with the sound of plates clattering echoes. Mike sat alone at a corner booth, already sipping his second cup, wondering about his neighbors in terrace. "What are they doing up there?" he muttered, though his curiosity was tempered by the calm morning.
Trixie, not noticing the adults' conversation, crouched slightly to take a closer look at House's hands. "Do you type a lot? Because your fingers look stiff. And your thumbs! How do you use them without pain?"
House raised an eyebrow, leaning back in exaggerated horror. "My thumbs are my lifeline! How dare you suggest they are compromised!"
Raymond shook his head, smiling. "You've officially met your match, House. Kindergartner edition."
Trixie tapped the stethoscope one final time. "Okay! I think you're healthy enough. But maybe… just maybe, you need more hugs. And less complaining."
House groaned, but there was a faint twitch in the corner of his mouth—a smirk, if anyone was looking closely. "I suppose I can tolerate your reckless medical advice for now, Doctor Trixie. But only because the terrace view is excellent."
Trixie clapped her hands. "Yay! I'm the best doctor ever! And you listened to me!"
Raymond chuckled again, lifting his coffee cup. "Sunday mornings don't get better than this."
The terrace settled into a warm, easy rhythm, the golden light spilling across laughter, playful scolding, and the quiet comfort of a morning shared among the diner's chaotic little family.
The warm Sunday morning buzz was briefly interrupted by the familiar chime of the elevator. Haley's footsteps were quick and purposeful as she stepped out, brow furrowed in concern.
"Where's Chloe?" she asked, glancing around the terrace. "There's a police officer looking for her."
Raymond, still holding his coffee, pointed lazily toward the gym. "She's probably in there, working out. Go get her."
Without another word, Haley dashed off, weaving between loungers and railing to reach the gym. Inside, Chloe paused mid-stretch, surprised at Haley's sudden appearance.
"Chloe, we need to go," Haley said, breathless. "A police officer is asking for you—something about an urgent situation downtown."
Chloe arched an eyebrow, tying her hair into a ponytail. "Well, I suppose I can't exactly argue with the police, can I?"
Together, they started walking toward the elevator, the click of their shoes on the polished floor echoing softly. But the moment they approached, they froze. Standing directly in front of the elevator doors were Raymond, House, Trixie, Leonard, and Sheldon, all leaning or standing with an air of calculated curiosity. Eyes sharp, postures rigid—or in Trixie's case, practically bouncing with excitement—each of them stared expectantly at the arriving pair.
Chloe let out a soft chuckle, shaking her head. "Of course. My noisy neighbors, my overenthusiastic daughter, and my ever-watchful landlord. Why am I not surprised?"
Haley smirked. "Welcome to Rayray's world."
Chloe and Haley stepped into the elevator, and the others followed shortly after, crowding in with varying degrees of enthusiasm and discomfort. Trixie pressed her nose to the glass panel, Sheldon lectured on the physics of elevators, Leonard whispered cautions about personal space, House leaned back with an air of dramatic irritation, and Raymond casually sipped his coffee, utterly unbothered.
The doors slid shut, the soft hum of the elevator taking them downward, carrying the eclectic group toward whatever chaos—or adventure—awaited them next.
The familiar chime of the diner elevator rang through the warm, mid-morning air. Max looked up from wiping down the counter and smiled, a twinkle of mischief in her eyes.
"Well, well," she drawled, leaning on the counter. "The circus has decided to grace us with their presence."
One by one, the occupants of the elevator began to step out, each more dramatic than the last. Trixie practically bounced off the last step, dragging House behind her like a reluctant sidekick. Sheldon adjusted his glasses, muttering about "inefficient disembarkation protocols," while Leonard whispered desperately for everyone to give him personal space. Raymond sauntered out, coffee in hand, clearly unconcerned by the chaos.
Haley let out a small sigh and waved them toward a booth near the center. "Chloe, she sits there" pointing at booth "the one with brown pantsuit"
The group shuffled across the diner, some bumping into stools, others jostling for the perfect vantage point at the counter. Chloe marching toward the booth, where a woman in a crisp brown pantsuit sat, scanning the diner with an almost military precision.
Chloe froze for a second, recognizing the figure immediately. "Chief Johnson," she said, her voice tinged with surprise and respect.
"Good morning, Detective," the woman said, her thick Southern accent rolling over each word like syrup. She waved a hand at the diner, her eyes flicking over the patrons at the counter. "You live… in a diner? And call me Brenda. It's Sunday, for God's sake."
Chloe cleared her throat, smiling awkwardly. "Yes… Brenda." Then, turning quickly toward the counter, she called out, "Max! Some coffee over here, please."
Brenda added without missing a beat, "And some of those cupcakes, if you don't mind."
Max clapped her hands together and grinned. "Coming right up!"
Meanwhile, the nosy observers at the counter were practically vibrating with curiosity. House leaned forward, eyebrows raised, and muttered to no one in particular, "Two police in a diner. This a beginning of a joke."
Trixie, perched on the edge of a stool, whispered loudly, "Is she going to stay forever? Can she live here too?"
Sheldon adjusted his bow tie and squinted. "Technically, this is highly irregular. Civil servants do not normally infiltrate private residences in such a casual manner."
Leonard groaned. "Sheldon, just… sit down and watch. Please."
Mike and Raymond exchanged a small smile, both quietly enjoying the spectacle. The diner was suddenly alive with energy, everyone watching the new arrival with varying degrees of curiosity, awe, and mild panic.
Max returned from the counter with a steaming pot of coffee and a plate of cupcakes, placing them in front of Brenda with a flourish. "Here you go. Coffee hot, cupcakes fresher than you'll find anywhere else."
Brenda nodded appreciatively, her gaze sweeping over the chaotic patrons at the counter. "I see… I see how it is here. Interesting."
Trixie leaned over to House and whispered conspiratorially, "She's going to be fun, isn't she?"
House smirked, taking a sip from his own coffee. "Oh, she'll fit right in. And probably supervise everyone, too."
Raymond sipped his coffee quietly, eyes flicking to the sunlight glinting off the diner windows. Another Sunday at Ray's, he thought. Predictable chaos, and now with a new flavor of authority.
Brenda picked up a cupcake, examining it critically before taking a bite. "Hmm. Not bad. Definitely superior to most hotel breakfast options," she said, her thick Southern accent wrapping around each word.
Chloe, sitting across from her, sipped her coffee cautiously. "I wasn't expecting to see you here… well, at this diner, I mean."
Brenda leaned back, a small smile tugging at the corner of her lips. "Chloe, listen. I want you on my new team—Major Crime Division. I'm just transferred here from Atlanta, building my squad, and I need someone I can trust. You."
Chloe blinked. "Me? But—"
Brenda raised a finger, cutting her off. "No buts. You know your stuff, you know the streets, and frankly… I like your style. Come work with me. You'll have autonomy, real cases, and… well, I promise, we will have flexible hours."
Chloe laughed, shaking her head. "Flexible hours… I'm intrigued."
"Exactly," Brenda said, her tone firm but warm. "You in?"
Chloe paused, swirling her coffee. She glanced around the diner at her chaotic neighbors, her daughter perched on a stool, and the usual ridiculousness of Ray's Diner in full swing. Finally, she nodded. "Alright, Brenda. I'm in."
Brenda clapped her hands together, leaning in conspiratorially. "Good. Now, another thing… I'm new in town. Currently living in a hotel, and I simply don't have the time or patience to find a place. And don't even get me started on Los Angeles traffic. It's a nightmare."
Before Chloe could respond, a sudden, very loud voice cut through the conversation:
"We have a vacant room here, if you're interested!"
Everyone in the diner—tenants, visitors, and even Max and Haley—turned their heads sharply toward Sheldon, who was standing at the counter, puffing out his chest as though he had just solved world hunger.
"Yes!" Sheldon continued, oblivious to the glares and raised eyebrows. "Consider the statistical probability of residential efficiency and commuting optimization. A police officer residing in this building increases our collective security by a minimum of 17.6 percent. Not to mention the potential deterrent effect against petty crime, as evidenced by multiple sociological studies!"
House groaned, throwing his head back into his hand. "Oh great. Another Paw Patrol member for the circus. Just what we needed."
Trixie giggled. "Paw Patrol? I want to meet this new police lady!"
Leonard muttered under his breath, shaking his head. "Sheldon's going to give her a pie chart."
Sheldon ignored him entirely, continuing. "Furthermore, the proximity of a law enforcement professional could reduce emergency response times for the building by at least 0.8 minutes. I have calculated the optimal apartment unit for her occupancy to maximize surveillance and neighborly interaction…"
Mike chuckled quietly, leaning toward Raymond. "Sheldon's not wrong, but I think she might be slightly… terrified."
Raymond sipped his coffee calmly, watching the spectacle with a small smirk. "Don't worry, Mike. She's tough. And I think she'll fit right in… at least until Sheldon drafts a full building security manual."
Max rolled her eyes and muttered to Haley, "Well, that escalated quickly. Another chaos agent moving in… just what this diner needed."
Haley snorted. "At least she's a cop. Could be worse—could be a lawyer."
House groaned again. "Actually, that's worse."
Brenda, unbothered, took another bite of her cupcake and smiled. "I'll take the room, if it's truly available. Sounds like I'll have a ready-made welcome committee."
Trixie cheered. "Yay! Another grown-up to boss everyone around!"
Sheldon nodded, pleased. "Excellent. Welcome to the most statistically secure apartment complex in Los Angeles. I will, of course, prepare a briefing document for your first week of occupancy."
House muttered under his breath as he sipped his coffee, shaking his head. "Oh, this is going to be glorious chaos."
And somewhere in the back, Max and Haley exchanged a glance, both silently preparing for yet another Sunday at Ray's Diner.
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He turn to another page. And read it, slowly while enjoying the diner noise.
Penny
Third Floor.(36)
Tenant. Waitress at the diner
Maintenance: None.
Notes: aspiring actress, read script or auditioning in her free time
Raymond remember the impromptu interview that Trixie held for Penny
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Penny first stepped into Ray's Diner on a bright, sunny Tuesday afternoon. The diner smelled faintly of fresh coffee and lemon cleaner, a combination that somehow made her feel immediately at home despite the chaos around her. She was lugging two overstuffed suitcases and a backpack that seemed to contain half her life.
At the counter, she was met by Trixie, who was perched on a stool with a toy stethoscope around her neck, "inspecting" the diner's guest like a miniature doctor.
"Hi," Penny said hesitantly, balancing her bags. "I'm looking for… I guess I'm looking for an apartment?"
Trixie tapped her chin, considering, and then nodded decisively. "You can be our patient! Uh, I mean, tenant! Rayray will decide if you pass the test."
Penny blinked, trying not to laugh. "Okay… great."
She followed Trixie up the elevator, they go up. Finally, they reached the second floor. "Okay, before you can live here you must pass the interview," Trixie declared.
The second floor full of sounds of life—Sheldon and Leonard arguing about some obscure physics problem, House striding through with a cane, muttering about "human stupidity," and Raymond observing it all with his usual calm, slightly amused smile.
The hallway on the second floor buzzed with the usual eclectic energy of Ray's Building. Penny, clutching her bag nervously, found herself standing in front of an impromptu "interview panel."
House lounged in a corner chair, cane resting against the wall, one eyebrow arched and a smirk tugging at his lips. Trixie sat on a tiny stool, legs swinging, stethoscope dangling from her neck, while Sheldon stood stiffly with arms crossed, eyes narrowing as if Penny's soul was an equation he was about to solve.
"Introduce yourself, please" Trixie ask politely
"Hi..." she said wryly " I'm Penny, an aspiring actress. I wish to rent an apartment here."
"Alright," House drawled, leaning back like he had all the time in the world. "Do you know what you've just walked into? Chaos. Lawless, unchecked, mildly hazardous chaos."
Penny swallowed. "I—I think I can handle a little chaos. I've… sort of been around a lot of it in my life."
Trixie piped up, her tone mock-serious. "Chaos is like a virus. It's everywhere. You sneeze and it spreads. You cough and it mutates. Do you… think you're immune?"
Penny blinked, unsure if the girl was joking. "Uh… I'm… working on it?"
Sheldon adjusted his tape measure—which he inexplicably had brought to the "interview"—and squinted. "Miss, the probability of your survival in a building with House's unpredictable behavior, Trixie's neurological entropy, and Raymond's… enigmatic calm is precisely 0.473 percent. Statistically, this is a poor choice for someone who values self-preservation."
House snorted, leaning forward. "Oh, look, a math lecture. That's comforting. Okay, Miss Aspiring Actress, let me ask you something important: if a man in a lab coat screams about the viscosity of pancake syrup while the building is on fire, do you… act?" He wagged his finger, mock-serious.
Penny, summoning her inner performer, raised an eyebrow and said, "I improvise. Always. It's what I do."
Trixie clapped once. "Improv! I like that." She tapped her tiny stethoscope against her chest.
Sheldon groaned audibly. "You're ignoring the probability matrix! Your answer is entirely qualitative and therefore statistically irrelevant!"
House waved a hand. "Thank you, Sheldon. We'll file that under 'useless commentary.'" He turned back to Penny. "Alright, next question: how comfortable are you with living among people who think the red phone is a nuclear alert, a secret government line, or a call from Batman?"
Penny laughed nervously. "I… think I can roll with that. Sounds like a fun Monday."
Trixie grinned. "You roll, you survive. You hesitate, you're toast. Also, do you like cupcakes?"
"I… do like cupcakes," Penny admitted.
"Good. Because Max makes really good cupcakes" Trixie added casually.
House leaned back and raised an eyebrow, smirking. "Well… she hasn't killed herself yet. That's promising. Penny, you may actually survive here. Maybe."
Sheldon huffed, adjusting his tape measure again. "I remain unconvinced. The odds—"
Before he could continue, Raymond's calm voice cut through the hallway.
"You pass."
House blinked, leaning back in mock resignation. "Yeah… I guess you pass. Congratulations. You're now part of the circus."
Trixie jumped up, clapping her hands. "Yay! New roommate! I get to give you your key!" She scurried over to Raymond, asked for the shiny brass key, and handed it to Penny. "Apartment 23, third floor. Follow me, please!"
Penny, still in mild shock, took the key with both hands. "Wait… that's it? No background check? No, like… psychological exam?"
Trixie shook her head solemnly, as if Penny had asked a silly question. "If you survive me and Uncle House, you can survive anything."
Raymond, from the corner, sipped his coffee, a small smile playing on his lips. "You'll do fine."
It wasn't long after moving in that Penny decided to enjoy some coffee and eat at Ray's Diner, the vintage, 24-hour diner occupying the ground floor of the building. The neon sign glowed warmly, and the smell of coffee and pancakes pulled her in like a magnet.
Max was bustling between tables, perfectly orchestrating the diner chaos, while Haley tried (and failed) to manage a line of customers during the the rush.
Penny lingered near the entrance, feeling a little out of place. She was approached by Max, who eyed her carefully.
"You are the new tenant, right?" Max asked, sharp and efficient.
"Yes, I am Penny" she said. "I just moved in."
" I am Max, listen " Max said, snapping her fingers, "we're short-staffed today. You want to help? You get paid, and it's a good way to meet everyone."
Penny raised an eyebrow. "Uh… sure?"
"Great," Max said, dragging her behind the counter. "First lesson: Don't spill coffee on anyone. Second lesson: Always smile. Third lesson: Move fast."
It was chaotic. Penny spilled a small cup of coffee on a customer, dropped a stack of pancakes, and ran into Trixie, who was "assisting" by inspecting syrup bottles with her toy stethoscope. But somehow, by the end of her shift, she had a rhythm.
Raymond watched her quietly from a corner booth, sipping his coffee. "Not bad," he muttered to himself. "She's got… potential."
By the end of the week, Penny had settled into her roles: aspiring actress, tenant of the building and unofficial diner waitress. She liked the rhythm—the bustle of the diner, the chaos of her neighbors, the way Raymond somehow managed to keep everything balanced while still letting the building run its own wild course.
One evening, after closing, she found herself laughing with Max and Haley, wiping down the counters and sharing stories. Sheldon lectured her about the physics of syrup viscosity, Leonard attempted to explain string theory over the clatter of dishes, and Trixie offered health advice that involved band-aids for imaginary injuries.
And somehow, Penny realized she wasn't just living in an apartment building. She was part of a family—a chaotic, hilarious, unpredictable family—and for the first time in a long time, she felt like she belonged.