Ryslig IC Inbox

[inseine]

WELCOME TO YOUR PRIVATE CHANNEL, PasUnPolicier. FOR SECURE COMMUNICATION, USE 246.01.094.30 *** PasUnPolicier has joined 246.01.094.30 <PasUnPolicier> This mail centre belongs to Javert. <PasUnPolicier> Be accurate and brief. <PasUnPolicier> I suggest you not test my patience with practical jokes and clowning around. <PasUnPolicier> I will return your notice shortly.

Comments

You're totally fine!

[inseine]

[The man who gazes back at Doppio -- if you could call him a man, still -- regards him with that sort of ransacking, invasive look of the most skeptical of detectives. His red eyes gleam in a heavily-lined, square face, framed by thick black-and-gray whiskers. Everything about him, from his rigid, soldierly posture down to his discerning pupils, speaks of observing and assessing, and right now, he carefully assesses Doppio's build and physiognomy.

There is little in his expression to betray exactly what he thinks: He is slightly haughty, cuttingly frigid, and does not shy away from direct eye contact. It is easy to imagine his subordinates and enemies cowering beneath his lofty presence.

All of this sententious gravity is entirely at odds with some of the chosen office decor. At his back hangs a calendar full of shirtless, buff men. Atop a filing cabinet is a small purple vampire puppet, rather cute. Files are assembled in scattered piles on his desk, atop shelves, on the cabinets, and it looks like there is not quite enough space for all the paperwork mounded about.]

Doppio, alias purplepiper. I see. Your chosen name suits. Have you come to sell me your skills?

[epitaffio]

[That's... kind of intense, huh? Something about the way Javert looks at Doppio reminds him of Risotto Nero, which is frankly impressive because he had a hard enough time remembering Risotto Nero when he was supposed to be on the lookout for him.

In any case, he mumbles something about how he didn't pick his username before getting to the point:]

Um, well, I don't know about selling my skills... I-I can't really do anything out of the ordinary. But I can follow instructions, like I said! Did you talk to the doctor?

[inseine]

I did. You will find I do not fail in follow-through.

[A grimace sours Javert's stony face. A mumbler! He never did warm to mumblers. If Doppio does it again, Javert will not miss an opportunity to sharply admonish him. He folds his arms across his chest.

Doppio won't sell his skills. Javert must work at drawing them out of him. This better not be a waste of time.]

There is always space for able men who take instruction. Even ordinary ones, though I fail to notice what is ordinary about an undead beast with a pair of antlers sprouting from his head, [he says dismissively.] What else have you done, aside from play assistant to Pierce? Speak up.

[epitaffio]

I-I mean, it's not like I had the antlers back home! Or the undeath. [He's a little startled by the bluntness, but any tension soon seems to give way to a slouched posture once again.

Speaking of home, though... How can he outline his qualifications in a way that won't make a cop's alarms, of all people, go off?]

Well... I ran a lot of errands! Sometimes I talked to people, sometimes I kept watch over places, sometimes I delivered things...

[inseine]

[The grimace twitches ever-so-slightly, then flattens to a neutral line. He draws his square chin into his collar, lids lowering to the desk in time with a thoughtful hum.]

You were a messenger-boy, like those gamins who ran letters for coin. [That's where Javert got his start, when he was a lad. It strikes a chord at least. He raises his eyes back to Doppio, studying his build, and props his cheek in an upturned palm.] Were you under the employ of anyone in particular? Or was it scattered errands?

[epitaffio]

[At face value, the most unusual things about Doppio are probably his hair and his sense of fashion (undead deer parts notwithstanding). He's only a boy, slim and awkward, likely not even in his twenties yet, and it may be very easy to picture his freckled face carrying out simple errands for spare change.]

Nope! I just worked for one person. He relied on me to do a lot of things, actually.

[But under intense scrutiny, or intense pressure, or circumstances of the sort, some things don't add up. Wouldn't he seem taller if he just stood up straight? What is it about his face that makes him look simultaneously boyish and twice the age he ought to be?

He seems a little tense under Javert's appraising eye, yes. The reasons for that just happen to be tangled and messy.]

[inseine]

[The 'boy' does slouch quite a bit, something better, more disciplined posture would certainly fix. And the prematurely aged air on Doppio's face is not lost on Javert, though it is a look he has seen and worn often in his encounters with street urchins. Even his own deeply-lined face and gray-streaked whiskers are more aged than his years.]

So you were an assistant. That is good, respectable work. To whom, what did your superior do?

[epitaffio]

[And that's the tricky part, because Doppio keeps a lot of secrets about his Boss - some, without even meaning to.]

He, um, ran a business.

[inseine]

[Javert stares in silence, as if expecting Doppio to elaborate. When he doesn't, his jaw twitches, brow climbing his forehead.]

Hm. A business. Well, go on. I want to know what your expectations and intents in working against an underworld of poachers. You must be made to understand the risks. So tell me, what was his trade?

[epitaffio]

[Yeaaaah, there's the trouble. And it's got to be a straight-laced cop he's having this conversation with, on top of everything...

Doppio's eyes dart around.]

I-I know it's dangerous. But even if I've never done anything like it, I... I really want to help! Maybe I could serve as a distraction or something, or... or I could sneak in wherever they're hiding!

[Hey, where's the answer to the question?]

[inseine]

[Oh, there is no way he would send a rookie on a death mission into the Poachers' stronghold without knowing what he can do, first. Javert purses his lips.]

All well and good, lad. You are eager, you don't lack in courage. But that is not where you start.

[Javert's eyes narrow. He opens up a top drawer of the desk and pulls out a folded map. He tosses it on the desk over to Doppio.]

We are looking for a three-digit address on a Barrio or a Barrow Street. It is in Bavan. I want you to scout it out and plot on the map the areas we must focus. Will you do that?

[epitaffio]

[Not a lot of people use the word "courage" in association with Doppio. In all fairness, that may be because those who realise he has it underneath a layer of deep and unmistakably real fear tend to end up in no state to speak of it.]

Yes!

[He takes the map and unfolds it, examines it. He still isn't very familiar with the streets of Bavan, but that's okay. His memory wasn't even good enough to help him get around Italy, half the time, so it doesn't make much of a difference.]

Be inconspicuous, stay on the lookout for anything unusual, and figure out where we should be looking. Right?

[inseine]

Correct.

[Javert nods sharply. There is a reason why Javert is leaving himself open to trying out Doppio so readily: Hawkeye gave him a good recommendation. Despite Doppio's shiftiness and Javert's distaste for his lack of forthrightness, he wants to see what he can Do. If he won't talk, try him out.

His eyes sweeping again to the younger man's garish frocks, a coldly amused little flick at the corner of his mouth.]

Start with wearing -- something else. Black or other dark shades will do. If you find yourself found out, the operation compromised, get out immediately and contact me. It is not the proper time to strike them. Ah, and one other thing.

[Javert draws out an Official Application for the Records, so that Doppio can earn some pay while he does these tasks, and slides it over to the boy.]

Fill that out before you go. Full name, current address, network contact number, and the rest.

[epitaffio]

[Is he pouting? He may be pouting a little when Javert tells him to wear something else. There's absolutely nothing wrong with purple, or magenta, or occasionally green. But he won't argue; he nods, instead, and gets to filling out the form.

Vinegar is what he writes down for his first name; his address corresponds to Hestia's Place, even though it takes him a moment to remember the door number. The network number comes slowly, too, but...

"Age" takes him longer to even begin filling out, his pen hovering over the blank field for what's probably a full minute before he finally writes 19 and hands back the form.]

[inseine]

[Javert accepts the form back. He had watched Doppio closely as he write, his expression flat and neutral when he hesitates on the age. He does not remark on it, though his eyebrow pops up at what he does write. 19? He pegged the man as boyish, but 19 seems a bit young even for that babyface. Hm.

After a quick glance to ensure everything else is in order, he tucks it away in his files. There must be some organization to them, because he chooses one of the lower drawers and thumbs his way through to place it quite particularly.]

That is well, Doppio. Don't forget, Barrio or Barrow Street, any of the three-digit city blocks. Watch yourself when you are out.

[epitaffio]

Yes! [And he does a salute, very proper and very straight.] I'll report back as soon as I can!

[inseine]

[Javert gives Doppio an abrupt nod, like an official acknowledging his subordinate. It seems like Doppio may do well with them, after all! He makes a note to bring up his name with Majima later.]

Bonne chance, and we shall meet again shortly.