a light that never goes out

Samir Roshan. 67. Vampire. Private Investigator & Consultant for Lethe PD.

[reginald-roshan]

Date: October 2020 Time: 11:21 AM Location: The City Hall

“Mr. Roshan?” Reginald rises to his feet at his name finally being called. Apparently he needed to file some forms for… taxes and all that shits. He lived outside of law for far too long and it makes no sense but whatever. When he walks up to the desk, however, another man cuts in front of him. He taps the other on the shoulder and clears his throat. “Um, excuse me, but I’m pretty sure they called me.” A fake name, but on paper it is his name. 

@sam-roshan

[sam-roshan]

His first thought is that his ears are acting up. It's been decades since his turning and it seems like the injuries to his eardrums are never quite healed enough. Sam rubs his left ear, and narrows his eyes. "Are you sure? It sounded a lot like Roshan to me, and not a lot of names can be mixed up with that," he says with skepticism, eyeing the other man. Sam fishes out his ID from his pocket, hanging it from the tips of his fingers so the man can see. “This is the name they called, right? I didn’t mishear it? I’m old, my ears aren’t what they used to be, you know! I’m practically ancient.” His license, however, states his birth date as April 30th, 1953.

@reginald-roshan

[nadeyaroshan]

Date: September 23, 2020 Time: 9:15 AM Status: Closed with @sam-roshan

Exhaustion rang through her entire body even the morning after the parade, her mind and heart still heavy with the events that had transpired, with her inability to do anything about it at all. She was a water nymph and she had still failed at her job. How could that even happen?

Deya’s hands were in her pockets as she walked down the street towards home, stopping when she heard her name. Sam. She turned slowly, already frustrated because they were so close to the house. But he sounded pissed, and she was on edge herself, and there was no way they were waiting until they got home to have this discussion. “I texted you,” she told him before anything else, tone almost accusing. “I told you I was staying at Shiloh’s.”

[sam-roshan]

"A text, right," he says flatly, his eyes flickering to the phone in his hand. He does have one, he's looked it over a thousand times since the newspaper arrived this morning. It doesn't settle him, and Sam returns his gaze to hers. "Nadeya, I didn't even know something happened yesterday till I saw this." In his other hand, he unrolls a newspaper with its black-and-white pictures of the parades end and the unnamed list of people wounded, or dead. His fingers are digging into the paper, no doubt making it crinkle though this morning his hearing is worse than usual. He stares, brought short by the fiery look on her face. "You sent a text, and then the next morning I find out about all this. I didn't even know if you made it to Shiloh's house! You could have been dead for all I knew!" Its not a shout, but its edging towards one. If this is what she's felt these last few decades waiting for his replies then he has no idea how she so easily let him back into her life. "You're the only family left, I don't want to find out you died in a bloody newspaper. Or at all really. Why didn't you come home, or tell me more? You would have sent paragraphs before," he says, thinking of her youth and the mountains of letters he received from her, some as thick as novels.

@nadeyaroshan

[sam-roshan]

@fayreavci​

“Well good for me then, because it seems like I need to focus more on those people and less on you. When the time comes for a replacement of organs, the offer might still stand. Unless everyone else in this town already took all of them from me.” It sounded morbid, but that was just a preview of what was to come. The next statement from Samir didn’t settled well with Fayre. They had every right to distrust her, but doing so what only shatter her purpose of being there. “That’s only fair. Was there someone who started this mistrust to happen? Well, hopefully the town will be relieved soon to know the only threat I am to society is smoking cigarettes.” What Samir said did make sense. She was able to get in pretty easy. A background search of her family line would’ve been enough for her to get thrown across the town’s border in less than a second. “You’d be surprised,” she said as she tried to not take a peek at his attempt to spell her name before he finished. Seeing the right spelling on the clipboard, she gave him a firm nod. “All is forgiven. And you said spelling wasn’t your strong suit. Either you guys are horrible liars or just very humble.” A light chuckle erupted from her lips. “Now I’m curious as to what kind of work you do. A child looking for their dog, huh? Did they ever reunite with their dog?” Fayre followed the direction of where his eyes were looking at around town, trying to see read his thought process. At the mention of the length of time he first arrived, she was quickly reminded about the aging process of certain species. After spending years in education and training about them, it was always something she couldn’t get used to. A thousand years old creatures who look as if they popped out of the womb just yesterday. “No, that sounds beautiful. I definitely would love to check that out. Is that a once-in-a-while thing?”

She was downright bizarre, but at least it was entertaining enough for Sam to laugh. Her question confused him a tad, but she smelled like a werewolf, perhaps she was a new one. New to all of this, or maybe just kept very safe. He studied her a moment, debating what to say, and settled on: “Well, nobody started it exactly. I’m not a native here so I can’t give you exact details, but the lot of them grew up around humans and not a lot of those humans treat us gently. I think maybe they just don’t want their way of life shaken up, or maybe they just never know who is a threat and who isn’t.” He shrugged, as if it didn’t matter. It had been a difficult adjustment for him coming to Lethe all those years ago. People here proudly displayed who and what they were, and from someone who had spent the first twenty-four years of his life hiding it among humans, worrying all the while, he couldn’t quite understand it. “I figure I can judge someone once I get to know them a little more. Unless you’re blatantly annoying, in which case I’ll have to deny their friendship,” he said with a cheerfulness that was unfitting to the conversation, but something very fitting for him. “Humble, though my sister would disagree. Think that’s a given though, sister’s just like to argue,” he said, tucking the clipboard back under his arm. For a moment, he ignored her question, clearly debating how to respond to it best. “I’d show you where its at, but I do have to finish putting away paperwork and start dinner before my sister comes home. She get grumpy when she doesn’t eat.” He lifted a freehand to point in the right direction. “But its down that way a block or two, they light the lanterns on some schedule people solve via a mystery puzzle. I haven’t done it yet, but its fun and, well, maybe someday we’ll get lucky and wind up there at the right time.” He grinned a little, and offered her a hand. “Well, it was nice to meet you, Fayre. I hope you find your way around a little bit more, there’s maps at the library if you need any extra help though.”

[sam-roshan]

elyasmegat‌:

Elyas was standing over the administrator’s desk, answering questions of the records filings into the computer. Lack of information forced him to recall cases from long ago or even a few days ago. It was difficult to not overlap one with another. He was a patient guy, but with the amount of questions that he was being asked that held no value in that moment, Elyas was looking for an escape. And luckily for him, Sam came in right at the perfect time. Hearing his name across the room, which he had been waiting to happen for the past ten minutes, he immediately looked up. What he didn’t expect, though, was for it to be the familiar face. “I’ll be back,” he said with relief to the law enforcement administrator before meeting Sam at his desk. “I have plenty of minutes. Hours even,” he said in a begging nature. “I wish I could say the same about you. What are you doing here? Looking to come back? Because I’ve been saving a desk for you this entire time.”

“What the devil’s wrong that you need that long of a distraction? I don’t know if I have that much time, but I can drag it out long as you want.” Well, no, he couldn’t. Sitting around made him twitchy and without a sketchbook to distract him, Sam already found his eyes drifting around the room. Nothing about it was different, he thought, even after decades. “I didn’t get that old! I only died a couple of years after I left this place! See, this is the only grey hair I’ve got.” Sam lifted a portion of his hair, eyebrows raised, showing off the slight tinge of grey at his roots. “Not that you know anything about grey hair, young man.” Elyas was older than him by a great deal, but it brought Sam a great deal of amusement to call him young. His smile faltered a little bit, and he shot Elyas a bemused look. “Oh, so that’s why this place is so crowded, you’re hogging a desk on my behalf. I don’t think your chief will let me back, he’s picky, although he’s better than who we used to have. What was his name, Douglas or something?” Too long ago for Sam to remember. He would come back if he could, if the situation with Delilah wasn’t hanging over his head like a damn guillotine, but he couldn’t say that. He turned to face Elyas fully, his lips quirking with amusement at the corners. “I’m a PI these days, but there’s no power to that. Do you wanna come catch a thief with me so I can take all the credit, but you can do all the work?” 

[sam-roshan]

@brynnharper​

“Yes. Adrian is one of his many grandchildren,” she stated slowly. “Samir. I remember your family. Gabriel talked about your mother a few times, how she died so young, but I don’t know much beyond that…” It happened way before Brynn’s time, and she looked at the man in a new light. Shit, was he older than her? She shook his hand, distracted. “A private investigator? In Lethe? Like, for the Riverborn or what?” she asked intently, curiosity getting the better of her. “Why did you ‘have’ to see some funerals? Were you close with the people? You know many deceased? You had an obligation?” What was this, twenty questions? Christ, Brynn, she thought to herself. She smiled up at the taller man then asked “And why aren’t you ready to go? What is the deceased’s name again? Anatol…?” She looked expectantly at the man then giggled. “You complain that we’re stuck here even though you don’t want to leave? I’m sorry, who the hell are you again?” 

“Huh, okay, well I guess it’s in bad taste to bother a man at his grandfather’s funeral, I’ll have to come back afterwards. Do you recall what he looks like? No, wait, let me guess.” He stared at the crowd for a moment, though they were far enough that he could only see a few. “That one in the rubbish goatee probably. People only grow one of those to obscure something.” Sam turned slightly, wanting to keep his eyes on the crowd without being so forward, and it helped him hear the woman a little better. Her question, that confused him enough into shooting her a lost look. “Have they not got enough private investigators state side to know what they are, or are you wondering if I have a specific type of customer? I’ll help any Riverborn that wants it, its usually random problem solving. Lot of petty people here,” he said with fondness. Lethe was just the right amount of crazy to be endearing. “Well, I used to be a detective. Not here, this was before I moved back to this town. We often end up here a little bit, though its not like the shows you see on the telly.” No, those were dramatic and disruptive, and he hadn’t crashed a funeral in several decades. He did not mention that he went to a couple dozen funerals for people he knew, his eyes flickering to the east, where he knew Shiloh’s mother rested eternally. “Why are you nitpicking me? Who are you, the nitpick police?” He asked with a snort. “I just meant I can’t wander around so easily, we have to stand here like robots till its over.”

[imani-kingston]

Date: September 22, 2020 Time: 5:40pm Location: Irving Plaza, Main stage

Imani normally didn’t comply to those who advise her how to do her setlist. However, because this was an all ages event, the Council advised that if she were to perform, then the songs chosen needed to be Top 40 hits. The she-wolf sucked it up, anything for cash and showing face. With the parade commencing, she performed her mix and kept the rest on loop after wanting to take a smoke break. Seeing someone approach her, she faked a smile and pointed at her stage. “If you’re here to request a song, I’m unfortunately on a strict set list that’s been approved by the Council. Can’t play the usual fuck bitches, get money bop y’know?” 

[sam-roshan]

“What?” he asked blankly, following her point to the stage. Oh, that, well, he couldn’t exactly claim to have been paying attention to any of the music truthfully, it was more of a buzz in his ears right now than any actual words. The pains of a big crowd and a hearing deficiency, but Sam shrugged and laughed. “First of all, big mood, I’m also stuck with a strict set of things from the council, but mine isn’t music. And I’m just hiding from someone.” His eyes flickered around her, to where he could spot Delilah Sarkissian making her rounds in the distance, and his shoulder sunk, turning on his heels so he faced the woman directly. “Samir Roshan. Mind if I pretend to be in the middle of an in-depth conversation with you? This ex-friend of mine thinks I’m too much of an introvert to talk with people.” Or so she wanted him to be. Absolute rubbish, truthfully.

[sam-roshan]

Time: 1:22pm Date: September 09, 2020 Location: Police station For: @elyasmegat​

He’s got the photos to prove the guy is a thief, but no authority to do anything with it. Days like this are the reason Sam misses being a police officer, let alone the detective he was once upon a time, but he tries not to let this show on his face as he breezes into the station. “You still work here?” he asks of a soft-faced secretary at the front, a little surprised they are still here, air-headed as they were, let alone alive still with the lines creased into their face. “Just looking for someone. Oh, there he is! Elyas!” No one can miss him, he’s the tallest person in the room, but he still raises his hand and waves it with enthusiasm. He waits for them to let him into the back area and then swoops back to Elyas’ desk. “Have you got a minute? Wow, you don’t look very different, its only been what... more than thirty-years?” 

[sam-roshan]

fayreavci‌:

“I had to stand in front of a council and reveal my sins, go through an elaborate pat down, and that’s not enough? What else do I have to do earn people’s trust around here? Bake them damn good cupcakes? Donate a few organs?” She was giving herself a few more minutes before her face grew tired of plastering that forced smile on her face. Standing there, she was only reminded how draining it was to keep herself from immediately attacking the other creature. Oh great, this is going to be tough. “Fayre. If you spell that correctly, I’ll excuse the lack of balloons and flowers.” With the countless times her name had been misspelled on a Starbucks cup, she had given them a new name each time that she wasn’t even sure what her real name was anymore. “Wow, sacrificing some hangman space to write my name on it? That’s some hospitality you would only find in the south.” Curious eyes wondered down at the paperwork before looking back at him. “What’s the contract for? Or is it in the contract that you’re not allowed to say?” At his question, many answers went through her mind of what she was seeking for in this town. None of which were verbally expressed. “I’m looking for a tour, or is that not included in the itinerary? Fortunately, I already found a place to live. I’m having my stuff dropped off later, so I have a few hours to spare before that arrives.” Great. A name to a face. “It’s nice to meet you, Samir. Say you get the chance to go back in time when you first arrived in this town. Where would you go first?” 

“Hmm, cupcakes and organs would go a long way to the people in town, but unfortunately I wouldn’t get to enjoy any of those, not needing to eat nor replace any organs,” he said cheerfully. “I agree though, its a little much, but I’ve heard chatter that the council lets anyone in these days, even riffraff, and I imagine everyone is trying to decide if you’re one of them.” Sam was too, in a way, but it mattered less to him who Lethe admitted when the worst person was already inside. He frowned, mouthing her name to himself, and then grabbed his pen. “Well, that’s unfortunate, spelling isn’t my strong suit, but I’ll give it a shot. I don’t think Fayre has many possibilites though, right?” Sam studied his clipboard for a moment, scribbling out the different iterations of her name before finally picking one and flipping around the clipboard. “The one with a Y, yeah? That one looks right, the others don’t, so I’ll go with that.” He shrugged lightly at her question. “Well, they didn’t sign the confidentiality contract even when I pointed it out to them so I doubt they care, but it was a child looking for their lost dog. Not a real contract either, considering that wouldn’t be legally binding.” Yes, he was that desperate for funds, even if he had rejected the child’s offer of five whole dollars. Sam paused thoughtfully, looking around town. “Well, the first time I was in town was forty years ago, but I’d probably want to see the plaza at night again. When they light the lanterns around the fountain, its very pleasant looking. Depends on what you like though.”

[sam-roshan]

gwendolynwade‌:

“Take it for what is is.” Gwendolyn simply replied as she shrugged. It was merely an expression for the most part. “If you say so, at least you’ve made it clear. Some people just ask for it.” Clearly, she wasn’t putting the blame on herself. Arching a brow, she was amused at the fact that he didn’t know who she is. Well that was refreshing. “Fair enough and I’m Gwendolyn.” Her lips curled upwards as she assessed their surroundings. “Mmm, I beg to differ. If they were uncomfortable, something as simple as walking away would do. They have two legs and a wide open space.” 

“You have a very peculiar way of looking at the world. How do you get to decide who deserves what?” Sam asked, a little arch to his brow. It wasn’t up to her, or to him, or to anyone -- unless you believe in a deity, but that was another debate. Gwendolyn, alright, he didn’t recognize that either, but at least he was expecting it this time. He shifted on his feet, watching her look around, and sighed at her conclusion. “You don’t feel any sort of sympathy for people, do you? Just think they should move out of their way for you?” It was a bit more like Delilah than he preferred, but he didn’t comment on this. Mostly because she probably wouldn’t know her -- or worse, she would. “Are you headed anywhere in particular with your friend?”

[sam-roshan]

brynnharper‌:

Brynn took the man by the sleeve of his shirt to the side for some privacy. Lethe had some issues with diversity and acceptance, and everyone here looked like they belonged in the KKK or a Mormon potluck. Therefore, she knew this man here probably wasn’t invited, and she wanted to nip it in the bud before someone turned on him. After all, his name probably wasn’t ‘Sam Jackson.’ 

“I don’t believe you were even in the vicinity of friends,” she hissed in his ear as they got out of range. The werewolves and vampires would have to suck it up or look the other way, goddamnit. “Do you usually spend your time at the cemetery, or…” her features softened. “Were you visiting someone and stopped by because of the crowd?” Brynn looked into his big brown eyes, reaching for any feelings that might surface. “His name was Anatol Niemczyk. He was a Serbian water nymph. Not a native, but his grandchildren are–he died of natural causes, hence all the old people. I mean, Lethe funerals are probably different than the outside world–I wouldn’t know, I’ve only worked here–but because we age differently I’d say ours are more diverse…” And as they could see, this one was… not.

She said something, but the sound of it was lost among the shuffling and movement as she dragged him away from everyone else. “Very subtle, I don’t think they noticed,” he said, cheerfully, fully aware that some people were giving them a confused look. Sam bowed his head to them, solemness crossing his face till they turned away, and he looked back at her with a slight frown. “Is that why you dragged me away? You thought I didn’t belong there? Very presumptuous, I happen to be good friends with, uh, Anatol Niemczyk.” The name was slow and dragged out, like he wasn’t quite sure how to pronounce all of it. Then he frowned. “Wait, Niemczyk? Is his grandson Adrian?” Huh, small world, he’d been looking for that guy for a while. “I’m Samir Roshan, I’m a de-- I’m a private investigator.” He stuck out his hand for her to shake, fumbling on his introduction. Decades of introducing himself as a detective was a little difficult to change and he grimaced. “Every funeral is different, even outside of Lethe. Can’t say this one looks any different than some of the others I’ve had to see, but I try not to attend these if I can avoid it.” Someone looked their way and the solemn look came across his face again. When they turned away, Sam looked at the woman. “You do realize we’re both stuck here now? Its going to be suspicious if I just walk away, but I’m not ready to go yet.”

[sam-roshan]

nadeyaroshan‌:

Deya grinned at her older brother, elbowing him lightly. “It also used to be frowned upon for a woman to be a fighter pilot and I did it anyway.” But the sigh in his voice made her stop, her thoughts slow, and her grin falter a little. It reminded her that he left, that he had walked away from her and gone off god knew where. She knew – she knew – that he had his own life, that she couldn’t expect him to hold her hand forever. And yet the burn of it had never quit hurting. After she gathered herself again, she shrugged her shoulders and resisted the urge to tell him that she went by Deya now. “Not really. I mean, can you imagine James Proctor sitting around playing board games with me?” That was a pretty hilarious image if truth be told. 

“Oh, so you’re going to trash me in this fight? I see how it is, I come home after years away and you treat me like rubbish,” he said, starting to laugh, though it faltered at the flicker across her face. The way her grin fade just a little, enough to remind him that there were several things unspoken between them. Things that Sam couldn’t even begin to explain to her without changing something. Nadeya was his family, he trusted his with everything except this truth. A snaking worry told him that she would never see him the same way if she knew he wasn’t strong enough to fight Delilah -- and the biggest part worried she would pick a fight with said vampire if she discovered her in town. He looked away from her, a tinge of guilt crossing his face. “Dunno who James Proctor is, you know, so I can’t say if that’s good or bad. Boyfriend? Friend? Enemy? Chances are he’s just a lousy player and doesn’t want to be beat.” Smooth recovery, in his eyes, but a temporary one nonetheless. He set up the board game, reaching up a foot to push a chair out for her.

[sam-roshan]

greywyatt‌:

Grey snorted lightly, smiling a little bit in amusement as he glanced at the other man’s look of disbelief. “Typically ones that involve alcohol or violence. At least in the past. And I served in several wars, trust me, you see strange hobbies out there that men pick up to pass the time.” It wasn’t a lie. Or wrong. The smell of the other man hit him then and he grimaced. “This definitely is in the drunk category.” He snorted again, his smile only growing as amusement sparked in his eyes. “Your other way? And what’s that exactly?” He liked this guy, he decided definitively. He had a dry humor to him that you didn’t find every day anymore. “Yeah, I’ve been around off and on since the place started. Built one of the older houses. I’m sort of getting my ass handed to me for it having termites.” He watched the guy spazz into consciousness with a satisfied smirk. “Nah. Never seen him before. Looks pretty amusing though.”

Sam, who served in zero wars and only knew what people did to pass the time when it involved murder, nodded his head shortly. “I feel like I should avoid asking what those were, I’m lucky to not need any new hobbies. Immortality hasn’t made me bored yet.” He snorted at the expression on the man’s face and nodded in agreement. “I was a cop for a couple of years in Seattle, I’m used to my fair share of drunks,” he said, by way of explaining his own lack of grimacing, even with his better senses, and he nudged the man again with his foot, careful to avoid the puddle of water. “Usually I call a monster to come pick them up. What she does with them is her own business, but I figure she eats them.” He doubted the man would take his words seriously, even if they were partially true. Sam’s head shot up, missing the spazzing from the man on the ground as he woke up. “Oh, so you’re Wyatt! Charlie made you sound taller and frightening,” he commented, squinting at him. Then he stuck his hand out. “I’m Samir Roshan. Charlie hired me to figure out why you have termites so she can decide if she’s going to kick your arse -- and she didn’t pay for the patient confidentiality contract so I can warn you to watch your arse.” 

[henrikenton]

@sam-roshan

Henri had her nose in a book, reading up on supernatural creatures that were literally surrounding her. It was so marvelous, so intriguing, but then she looked around and realized she was lost. She looked for street signs, but the email she had gotten from the police station hadn’t given her directions of how to get there, just a destination of where to go. She peered hesitantly around and saw an office that she figured she could walk into. She read the door as she approached it. Private eye, huh? Fascinating, the supers really can do whatever they put their mind to. It had to be true, because her second shot at life she had taken so many risks and still not died, but then again apparently liches couldn’t.

The word lich was bizarre on her tongue and she chewed her lip before knocking on the door. Because it was ajar, it just swung open slowly and she smiled at the man sitting at his desk. He was surprised to see her, as if this quaint little town didn’t have much of a need for a private investigator. Huh. “Hi there, I’m Henri and I’m rather new to Lethe. I have a job interview at the police station in–” she took out her phone and let out a sigh. “Oh, its an hour away. It won’t take an hour to get there from here, will it? I’m on foot, sir.”

[sam-roshan]

The door swung open and he gaped at it, a little surprised that it was unlocked still. It had been several hours since he started his lunch break and, well, given his lack of customers, he hadn’t bothered with opening again. Sam settled his feet on the ground. “Hello, Henri, welcome to Lethe then,” he offered with a little laugh. Should he just sign up to be part of the Lethe welcome wagon? First it was the other woman, the real estate one, and now it was this one, a soon-to-be police officer (unless she was applying to be a secretary, he realized belatedly). “Police station? Oh, well, that’s a bit on the other side of town.” Sam stood up from his desk and walked over to a map he plastered across one of the walls; it included Lethe and notable places, though mostly he just jammed it with pins of his current cases. There was a whopping two on the board, but he ignored them, jabbing his finger at the police station. “Here’s the station, and here’s us,” he said, moving his hand to their current location. “Its a bit of a confusing route. Do you want a guide? I’m sick of this office and I’d hate to send you on your way without doing something to help.” Truthfully, he needed to go prod someone at the police station anyhow. It worked out.

[sam-roshan]

nadeyaroshan‌:

Deya grinned at him. Sometimes it was too damn easy to forget how long it had been, to feel as if they had been doing this forever. Her brother was so easy to fall back into habits with, to be comfortable with and to let her guard down. He always had been her safe place. That was why him being back scared her. “Ooh, risk. We could play Risk. I’m a military girl now, I’d kick your ass,” she teased him lightly, only half kidding. She had always been good at strategy games. It was games like Life that she sucked at. “Yeah, I never moved them.” She couldn’t bring herself to admit that she had never let anyone else touch it either. That cabinet was sacred, like a treasured memory.

“Good, we had them organized in a particular way. Remember, the ones we use with guests used to be at the bottom because we didn’t have guests that needed the boring games?” he questioned with a short laugh, moving out of the kitchen and into the cabinet tucked in the corner. “Risk? Oh, well, alright since it was your idea, we’ll play yours. But I’ll have you know, its in bad taste to beat up your older brother.” Sam dug the box out, wiping off a thin layer of dust that clung to the top as he brought it to the table. It was like it hadn’t been touched in some time and it drew him a little short. They’d spent many an evening playing these, both with their mother and after she was gone, as much to waste away the hours as it was to remember her. At least on his part, given he didn’t know how much Nadeya remembered of their mother anyway. He touched it lightly, a sigh in his voice and an almost smile on his face. “Not spent a lot of time playing games, Nadeya?”

[fayreavci]

location: downtown lethe time: early afternoon status: open 

“How lovely.” To say she was surprised was an understatement. Fayre held greater expectations when she heard about a town that held supernatural people, picturing a place where festivities were a daily occurrence and brawls that broke out for no good reasons. The quietness and quaintness of the street that she stepped out into failed the benchmark she had for Lethe. It was just a place that people could easily mistake as their typical town next door. Slamming the car door behind her, the hunter set her target on the person on the sidewalk, arming herself with a gracious smile and a benevolent tone. “Please say you’re my welcome wagon. I did expect balloons and flowers, maybe even a sign with my name written on it. But I’ll take anything, as long as I can prevent myself from looking like a lost puppy trying to find my way around.” Dark eyes swiftly glanced around her surroundings before gently settling back on the person. “Though, I don’t want to keep you away if you have other things to do, but you can always consider this as an investment.”

[sam-roshan]

Sam didn’t judge the people in town who talked to themselves. Mostly because he couldn’t hear it half the time and he couldn’t very well judge something that went through one ear and out the other without ever registering in his head. The car door slam, though, he caught that one and turned around, tucking his paperwork back under his arm. “Afraid Lethe offers very poor welcome wagons, you’ll only get random civilians giving you the cross eye till they trust you,” he answered truthfully after a moment’s pause. “Uh, what’s your name? I suppose I can make a sign, I’ve got some paper right here and even a pen, we’ll fulfill one of your requests, its the least I can do.” He was only partially joking about it, mostly because he found it hilarious that anyone expected something from Lethe. The council was, he thought, a train wreck in the making or half-derailed already. Sam shook his head and when he smiled, it was a little more genuine and less sarcastic than his previous words. “This isn’t even real paperwork, I was just playing hangman on my contract, so I haven’t got anything better to do. What are you looking for? Hopefully not a place to live, we’re short on land lately, the pains of immortality: no one ever leaves.” He paused and added, “Welcome to Lethe. I’m Samir Roshan, but Sam works just as well.”

[sam-roshan]

@brynnharper

If a stranger came to his mother’s funeral for no reason other than boredom then Sam rather thought he would pummel them. He wasn’t a man for violent tendencies and yet some things are sacred. So funeral crashing? It wasn’t on his bucket list and here he was, scratching it off anyway, arms clasped behind his back as he edged his way around the edges of a mourning crowd with guilt clinging to his chest. It was just crowded enough that not many people recognized him, but it was only a matter of time when he quite literally towered over everyone else. Sam stepped further and bumped shoulders with a tinier, dark haired woman that he vaguely recognized, and he caught her shoulder to steady her. “Pardon me, I wasn’t looking where I was going,” he said, quietly, to keep his voice from being heard over the murmurs of the crowd. “So, who died? I forget his name, we’re not real close.”

[sam-roshan]

charliengel‌:

“Yes, Samir Roshan, Private Investigator. That’s what it says on the door, yes?” she replied quickly, as if she were in a rush. “Okay Sam. No, termites isn’t a code word. I didn’t get crabs or some shit. My partner let termites infest the home I built ages ago, and no other houses around us are infected. I’m not asking you to tell me he did it, then I might break up with him,” she partially lied, “but I just want to know where it originated from. I’ll leave better instructions with him next time I leave town.” She looked at him, then blinked a few times. “Oh shit. Roshan! Yeah, yeah, I remember. Your hair grew out. You look damn good like this, actually,” she said, obviously checking him out. It hadn’t been a long time since she’d last seen him because he was still rather young. “So… Lethe, huh? What made you…?”

"I just have to cover my ass, I’m not really interested in getting in the middle of a lover’s dispute,” he said, hands held up in surrender as if half his income wasn’t from solving lover’s quarrels. It didn’t mean he had to like it. “Alright so termites, you don’t know a pest control that can give you more answers on it? We can go looking into that if we can’t figure this out. Kind of harsh to break up with him over that, but I won’t judge you for it,” he said honestly, zipping up his sweater. He didn’t need it, but it was old and comfortable and worth being a little more warm than usual. His back was to her till she called his name in a tone of remembering and then he stiffened a little, turning to face her, squinting. “Oh, bloody hell. You’re her, aren’t you? Engel, right?” It annoyed him that he didn’t recognize her face, but interactions with vampires were ones he didn’t want to remember usually. She was possibly a rare exception. “Fine, let’s go investigate this house of yours,” he said loudly, purposely not answering her question as he led her to the door with a smile. “Haven’t been here in a long while myself. How long have you been here?”