Time: 5:06 PM
Location: Alley behind his practice
Status: Open
Truth be told, Hans wasn’t overly excited over the prospect of his pile of paperwork that was currently towering on his desk. It was typical of him; he was the one that got everything done before coming anywhere near deadlines and rarely had any kind of work pile up on him. Still, eve had days when he could not be coaxed into doing something that had turned into a core. He had every intention of getting there; eventually.
For the moment, he slipped out behind his office, checking in either direction down the alleyway. As usual, it was empty. In his inner coat pocket he had a few strays drifting, his guilty pleasure. He pulled one out between two fingers, rolling the cigarette between them and taking another cautionary glance around before lighting it and leaning against the wall.
No, he wasn’t proud of his habit. It wasn’t a mark of a refined man, or someone that had the upbringing he did. That didn’t mean he had any plans to quit it. He was halfway through it when footsteps sounded somewhere off to the right, and in a second, the cigarette was under his heel, a piece of gum pushed into his mouth and chewed. He straightened, just in time for someone to round the corner. “You must be lost.” He said, briefly smiling. “There’s not much back here.”
Far from languid, she would have been but a fool to not notice such a reaction - how peculiar he held himself together in such a fashion which would have screamed facade for most. Although she pinned it down to her own self-doubt - or intuition - she eyes him momentarily, mimicking the curl to his lips. “If there’s not much back here,” she parrots in response, her presence nothing other than fair and light; there is not much wickedness in these bones of hers, it lies dormant mostly. “Then I’m considerably curious as to why you’re here. Unless we’re both lost, of course.”
What a coincidence, she thought.
“Perhaps Hermosa is home to an illegal drug ring and you’re their doorman disguised as a tour guide.” Her imagination runs wild at the thought; plucking out something considerably elaborate. It’s all in jest, may she add, but she toys at the concept all the same. “No, you’re not that interesting, are you?”
