Ryslig IC Inbox
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. | ||||
<PasUnPolicier>
no subject
a giant honking breach of confidentiality?
<PasUnPolicier>
no subject
[ there's your address, Javert. ]
<PasUnPolicier>
I am leaving now. Don't delay yourself.
no subject
[ Majima would show up as promised, arriving by dark-colored car just outside. When he shut the door, the vehicle drove off, leaving him sampling the air for the sort of scents and sounds that might provide some clue as to Valjean's whereabouts. ]
ACTION
Perhaps the man is different than the last time they met. He is a vampire and not an angel, for instance. The familiar air of reservation, abruptness, and melancholy lingers about his head. He holds his head just a touch lower than the Nephilim, he clasps his hands at his back rather than across his chest, and wrinkles of exhaustion line his terse face.]
No one has seen him in over 24 hours. [He looks to the entrance. His fists tighten at his back, his mouth curving into a hollow smirk. He nearly laughs.]
I do not have a standing invitation to his flat.
I'm assuming they're still outside, wasn't sure
[ He tilted his head in the direction of the retreating woman. ]
And does that mean you can't get into the buildin', or just the apartment? I don't know how all the invitations work.
[ Could one hypnotize someone into giving permission? Surely if it was possible, Javert would have already done it. ]
YES, they are, I'm sorry! Good guess!
[Javert sniffs, his head bending to the ground. His glance fixates on a spot just beyond the tip of his nose.]
You must go in for me. I would not demand an invitation from him. It is his right to shut me out.
:|b
REALLY JAVERT ]
...so under normal circumstances, ya wouldn't be asking someone else to rummage through his apartment, right?
[ Not that this was, apparently, going to stop the werewolf from doing it. ]
Did you finagle a key off of the receptionist?
[ Majima was heading up and into the apartment building's foyer, but look, this was important. He needed to know if he was going to have to add B&E to this whole sketchy wellness check. ]
no subject
Don't ask him how he finagled it. Better that Majima doesn't know.]
It is a wellness check, not a burglary. [He adds dryly,] You might try knocking first. I will follow and stay at the door.
no subject
I will. But let's not kid ourselves.
[ They wouldn't be here if odds favored Valjean and a sudden urge to play hooky. Once they were at the door, Majima raised his hand to rap neatly at the door. He listened.
And then he unlocked the door, swinging it silently open. ]
no subject
Inside, the basement apartment is a wreck. Furniture is overturned, a chair lies on its side, leg broken. Shelves are in disarray. There are obvious signs of quite a struggle by the 'harmless old man.' And amongst the wreckage, Majima will be able to find the one solid clue the culprits left behind:
A syringe cap, just like the syringes the poachers used against monsters during their coordinated kidnappings and attacks in mid-November.]
no subject
And then, carefully, he removed a handkerchief from his pocket and picked up the syringe cap, returning to the door. ]
Here.
[ SORRY ABOUT YOUR OLD MAN, OLD MAN ]
no subject
The expression on his face drops indescribably. In truth, it is a subtle thing: a faint slackening of his lips here, a hollowing of the cheeks there, the emergence of deep dark rings beneath his eyes and the smoothing of all but the deepest of lines in his brow. His eyes are dull enough to swallow, rather than reflect the light.
All at once, he springs out of stillness, hurriedly wrapping the cap back up and burying it in his deepest pocket. His lower lip curls into a bulldoggish pout, fangs glinting hungrily. He readjusts his hat, drawing the brim low over his face. Apparently he is making ready to go.]
Thank you, Majima. That is all.
no subject
Uh huh. I'll give the key back.
END
See that you do. [Toneless. Dull. Dead.] There is work to be done. I'll send word if I discover more. Good night to you.
[He heads for the exit. Then heads past the exit toward the nearest hall-window, where he instead melts into his batty shape and flaps off into the night.]