if you're going downtown, I might as well be on your way [CLOSED]
Characters: Cirucci Thunderwitch and Phoenix Wright
Content: Cirucci has a couple inquiries for the man.
Setting: The marketplace.
Time: Backdated to around the time of the plane races; probably before her run-in with Shinjiro etc.
Warnings: None that I can think of. Cirucci is on her better behavior.
Cirucci only feigned interest in the various little trinkets she turned in her hands.
Truth was, she had passed these stalls numerous times in the past few days, had began to memorize the sellers. Had her eyes not been occupied, she would have, on her first day of exploration, played a game of deciphering who sold what based on facial expression, posture, and overall disposition alone.
But her eyes had trained themselves carefully on the crowd. The first day, she had slowed her usual hasty walk, keeping an eye out for her next--assignment, she'd call him. But she hadn't spotted him, and so she kept returning to the same spot, that same little fragile town. Even now, her eyes shifted from the handcrafted necklace that she pretended to fawn over (so touristy it was, and so over exoticized)--
She squinted, suddenly, as a flash of spiky, black hair popped above the crowd. Trying to discern if the figure she saw far off was indeed the man she was supposed to track down, Cirucci leaned against the stall casually, waiting for him to come closer. What she was told of his appearance was a mantra she repeated to herself, and while Cirucci was sure of the details, well--her sight could always misjudge.
So she waited.
Content: Cirucci has a couple inquiries for the man.
Setting: The marketplace.
Time: Backdated to around the time of the plane races; probably before her run-in with Shinjiro etc.
Warnings: None that I can think of. Cirucci is on her better behavior.
Cirucci only feigned interest in the various little trinkets she turned in her hands.
Truth was, she had passed these stalls numerous times in the past few days, had began to memorize the sellers. Had her eyes not been occupied, she would have, on her first day of exploration, played a game of deciphering who sold what based on facial expression, posture, and overall disposition alone.
But her eyes had trained themselves carefully on the crowd. The first day, she had slowed her usual hasty walk, keeping an eye out for her next--assignment, she'd call him. But she hadn't spotted him, and so she kept returning to the same spot, that same little fragile town. Even now, her eyes shifted from the handcrafted necklace that she pretended to fawn over (so touristy it was, and so over exoticized)--
She squinted, suddenly, as a flash of spiky, black hair popped above the crowd. Trying to discern if the figure she saw far off was indeed the man she was supposed to track down, Cirucci leaned against the stall casually, waiting for him to come closer. What she was told of his appearance was a mantra she repeated to herself, and while Cirucci was sure of the details, well--her sight could always misjudge.
So she waited.