Only three floors, the building before her is much more unkempt than she anticipated. The brick is crumbling at the edges, and the paint on the windowsills has chipped away with exposure. It looks taken care of, though, despite the flaws in its facade.
A peaceful aura surrounds the place, and Max inhales slowly, straining to keep a hold of the hope that tries to bloom in her chest. She has little faith, but a small part of her aches for something more permanent than a few months.