Day 42, Noon: The Twin Pine Restaurant

[thatdamnedninja.livejournal.com]

Yuffie took the long way around, practically making it a tour of the entire town. She collared--not literally, since the nurses would've thrown fits--a few random citizens along the way, asked as many inconspicuous sounding questions as possible, and then moved on. Wash, rinse, repeat. Sneaking a few covert glimpses into stores and windows confirmed what she'd been talking about with Sam earlier; no dates, no explicitly mentioned locations outside of the town itself… how weird was that? Even the most insular of towns back on Gaia would've coughed up some kind of connection with the outside world.

It was almost like a living ghost town.

Well, maybe she was just thinking too hard. Maybe she was throwing shuriken too hard at the wrong target. Back home, she had a concrete frame of reference. Here, she couldn't take anything for granted; she had no local or international knowledge whatsoever. All she could try to do was get a profile of the immediate area and build it up and out from there. Theories were already budding, popping up like weeds hit by Quadra-Haste, but without facts to back them up, theories were like sand in a desert.

Not that she didn't want to share those theories, sand or not. She did. A lot.

Once she'd developed a viable mental map of the place (as viable as she was gonna get given the time constraints), Yuffie swung back around and jogged back to North Street. From there, she took the alley; a quick right turn; slow to a trot, and there. Her cheeks were tinged pink from the cold winter air, and they stung as she poked her head in through the door.

Okay, so maybe she was a little early after all. That was cool. Very cool. She had some time to set things up, to pretend that she wasn't hideously under prepared for this lunch date. Stepping into the warmth, Yuffie surreptitiously cased the place out as she headed to a table. Homey, in a way that almost reminded her of some of the up-and-coming rural towns. Automatically seeking out one of the more strategic seats--one with a good view of the rest of the restaurant, and one that didn't leave her totally vulnerable to mutant chairs or murderous sandwiches--she made herself comfortable, whipped out a few crumpled pieces of paper and a pen, and began to jot down her findings.

[Closed to Edgeworth.]

Comments

[idolism]

If it wasn’t for the circumstances, someone trying to borderline use him for their little stunts would so not be tolerated, but because it was a barter of sorts, the scales had balanced out. But if it turned out this Michael really was full of useless information--not assuming he was equally manipulative--then it would be a very kind favour on Aidou’s part. One that definitely wouldn’t happen again.

As it was, all these wrongful assumptions were also just added annoyances. Whenever the noble felt the urge to roll his eyes, it was usually a bad sign.

With dutiful patience, he waited until their exchange was back on track before saying, “I do,” with an edge of hardness to his tone. “Even if I didn’t, that doesn’t matter so much if what you say is true.” After all, acquaintances didn’t have to run both ways before assassination attempts happened, especially when a vampire was involved. “We’ve established you didn’t hear anything, but now what of the other one involved? Please describe him.”

And this time, it’d better be a serious description. Assuming Aidou couldn’t make use of or wasn’t interested in the most stringent details was woefully off base.

[justlovesyogurt.livejournal.com]

"Oh, you're not going to have a hard time recognizing him. Same height as the guy who hired him. Black hair, slicked back. red eyes. Black tattoos on the face, abstract. Pale, pale skin. He could be a decent assassin if he could approach you in a car, your home, or something but in the hallways of a mental hospital, I would have gone with someone a little more generic. There."

Michael sat back and pushed the plate of untouched steak towards Aidou.

"You sure you don't want any of this steak? I'm stuffed. It's on me."

[idolism]

A straightforward answer that seemingly came without strings. Aidou looked down at the newly cleaned tabletop, tracing the faint, uncanny reflections of the overhead lights on its surface.

Aidou had always prided himself on being keen. And he did recognize much of what Michael said as being more than just fantasy, because even if a part of him remained dismayed at the uselessness, he still kept his eye out, his ears open. People’s faces and snippets of conversations were filed away in his memory like cards on a file-o-fax. Michael’s descriptions matched prisoners he’d seen, one certainly more than the other.

The thing was, why? And how? Most importantly, the level of danger he put the situation at was small, which was suspicious in its own right. The lack of even a hint of an attack went against what this man was telling him. As for the lack of provocation, well…

If it was who Aidou thought, then overconfident fools didn’t need much provocation, did they?

It wasn’t until the plate of steak was pushed into his field of vision that the vampire looked up again, expression back to being as noncommittal as a porcelain doll’s. “I respectively decline,” he said. If he was being ironic, it was well masked. Unfolding his arms, he then rose from his seat. “If that’s all you know, then I’ll be taking my leave now. Thank you.”