Javert ✍ 020

[chose_death]

Who: Agent Gerald Javert, Clive Triton
Where: Clive and Luke's home in Espoir Village. Dated for Sunday, May 1st, twilight.
Style: First
Status: Closed

[A ragged, shady character has found a comfortable seat in a bench on a quiet Espoir country street. These kinds of folks are a common sight around the city and the village these days; most of them

Comments

[doveindisguise]

[With all the homeless men who spent their late night evenings sleeping out on the public benches in Espoir Village, it was only natural for Clive Triton to pass by this particular shady character without giving the man a single acknowledgment. Though his dear mentor Layton and his brother Luke may have shared a warming smile and a tip of the hat towards the poor unfortunate creature, the young reporter wanted absolutely nothing to do with worthless street scum like this.

Instead, he continued on to his front door step before digging through his jacket pocket for a set of keys on a ring.]

[chose_death]

[The slumped shoulders perk up after Clive passes. The man raises his head, eyes following Clive to his front door.

Silently, this ragged man stands and approaches Clive.

Just when the young reporter manages to locate the keys in his pocket, a dark hand dangles a badge directly in front of his face. It is a water-stained, curled, bent, but very official government identification:

Agent Gerald Javert
Federal Bureau of Investigation
Somni City]

Clive Triton, [says a voice very close to the young man's ear.] Let's talk.

[doveindisguise]

[And in a flash, Clive has both dropped the heavy keyring back into his coat pocket and spun wildly around to face the stranger, his back pressing firmly up against his own front door immediately.

For all he knows about the man standing before him (besides the intimate details of his personal life with one famous Burlesque Dancer), Clive might have believed that the Federal Agent has come to get some revenge for the article he had nearly published.]

What do you want?!

[chose_death]

[Agent Javert stares intently at Clive, his face a mostly indifferent, vaguely disgusted slate. He slowly tucks his identification badge back into his pocket.]

Shut your loud trap. The trees have ears here.

[Javert looks a little under the weather, to say the least. His face is unusually pale, his thick black hair unusually unkempt and matted, and his fully buttoned coat is visibly torn. He resembled a wild savage more than a civilized man, save for his keen, sharp, and calculating stare.]

You are alone, aren't you? Invite me inside.