(no subject)
Characters: Stoneface (stonyfaced) and Fenrir (asmodial)
Date/Time: July 6th/2 PM
Location: The butcher shop
Rating: PG
Summary: Stoneface heeds West's suspicions and goes to ask Fenrir a few questions.
Stoneface paused outside of the butcher's office, journal in tow. West's journal was with him as well, tucked into an inside pocket, but he figured that it would be wiser to not let Fenrir know that he was being investigated so thoroughly. Let the man believe that he was being questioned in good faith, and hopefully he'd be able to wrangle more information out of him.
Despite West's conviction, he didn't believe that Fenrir could have done it. For one, it'd take somebody with incredible strength (Which Fenrir's lean stature did not fit), the powers of flight (which were most certainly not present) and the capability of ripping apart the human body with one's teeth (which the man didn't seem to possess, considering how tightly he kept his lips shut). Regardless, the chance that he knew something, anything about the three of them was too useful for him to ignore.
Making sure he had the pages of his journal held open with his fingers and a pen, he pushed against the glass door and walked in, automatically stepping over the bit of cracked tile inside the shop. He tapped a finger against his forehead in greeting, where the brim of a helmet would sit had he had one on at the time.
"Afternoon, Fenrir," he said, walking towards the counter and leaned against it, conversationally.
Date/Time: July 6th/2 PM
Location: The butcher shop
Rating: PG
Summary: Stoneface heeds West's suspicions and goes to ask Fenrir a few questions.
Stoneface paused outside of the butcher's office, journal in tow. West's journal was with him as well, tucked into an inside pocket, but he figured that it would be wiser to not let Fenrir know that he was being investigated so thoroughly. Let the man believe that he was being questioned in good faith, and hopefully he'd be able to wrangle more information out of him.
Despite West's conviction, he didn't believe that Fenrir could have done it. For one, it'd take somebody with incredible strength (Which Fenrir's lean stature did not fit), the powers of flight (which were most certainly not present) and the capability of ripping apart the human body with one's teeth (which the man didn't seem to possess, considering how tightly he kept his lips shut). Regardless, the chance that he knew something, anything about the three of them was too useful for him to ignore.
Making sure he had the pages of his journal held open with his fingers and a pen, he pushed against the glass door and walked in, automatically stepping over the bit of cracked tile inside the shop. He tapped a finger against his forehead in greeting, where the brim of a helmet would sit had he had one on at the time.
"Afternoon, Fenrir," he said, walking towards the counter and leaned against it, conversationally.