Harbinger Harbourer [Evan and Fye]

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Harbinger Harbourer [Evan and Fye]

Post by Inquiry on Thu Aug 16, 2012 2:15 am

Emberwheat Bakery- a respectable establishment in the West District, whose business ran well and whose baked goods were not unheard of in a good part of the city. Evan had never been there himself, but that did not mean he'd never sampled the goods- mooched off of acquaintances and friends, usually. It was just a bit out of the way for the inquiry agent, though more and more often he found himself taking some of the tamer cases of the West District for an easy dirt pay.

Not that he didn't enjoy most of it- it was a nicer place than his own home (though he would be hard pressed to move- despite anything he might have said or would say, he was rather fond of it) but driving out more than half an hour for pastries was not on the top of his to-do list.

Still, he wished he wasn't here on business. It was a shame his first visit would not be to purchase a bun or a pie, but to snoop around one Fye Kingston. He had received intel (bunk intel, but he didn't know that) that the owner of the bakery was harboring a Harbinger criminal, and his employer wanted him to find the felon, as well as apprehend Mr. Kingston should the information prove correct.

He wasn't exactly sure if he would be successful in the citizen's arrest (Kingston was a Harbinger himself, he'd heard, and the bakery's name was an indication of such), but at the very least, he would be able to check for any suspicious activity and direct the real officials towards the supposed harbinger criminal later.

In any case, it was Tuesday just after lunch hour that he stepped into the bakery (even without his power, it was easy to single out the smells that permeated the air-- it made Evan salvitate, a little), during that odd time of day where it was bright outside but business usually slowed just as people were hurrying back to their own jobs.
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Re: Harbinger Harbourer [Evan and Fye]

Post by Fye on Tue Aug 21, 2012 3:57 pm

Business always tended to taper down after the lunchtime rush, people hurrying in to purchase a bun or two and eating before rushing back--Fye was taking a breather in the calmer space after the last of his customers went out the door. The blond had made himself a sandwich, the food sitting on a plate in front of him on the counter, about half of it gone, the man himself folded into his usual seat, one leg crossed over the other, a pamphlet open in his lap--a new amusement park had opened in the West District, and he was considering taking the kids from Hope over there the next time he had to babysit.

The bell on the door jangled, and the blond glanced up once at the man who came in, eyes running over him in a detached, vaguely analytic way: another blond, about his age, dressed in mostly brown. He nodded to him as their eyes met (pink, huh? Another Harbinger, then) and then returned his attention back to the flimsy paper, flipping it over.


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