While Jamie wasnât in the business of turning down the free advertising, he wasnât entirely sure that he was the best and he was pretty sure there were big investigation firms and one Jessica Jones who might disagree with the sentiment that he was the best.  He got by, and for the moment, that was good enough for him.  Much more than that, and heâd start taking heat from sources he didnât want it from,and that was the part of the whole process he was inclined to avoid.  A friendâs boyfriend, one that he wasnât fond of, had taken to calling him âLemony Snicketâ because he was a series of unfortunate events rolled up into a life, and while it was not an entirely friendly nickname (and he thought it was a reference from somewhere other than the book series, but he didnât know what), Jamie wasnât arguing with its validity.  That was precisely why he was trying to do his job and still stay out of trouble.
     He had no idea who might be on the way to his door even as he rolled out of bed and went to wash up, but he was glad that heâd at least gotten that far before he heard the knock.  With a soft curse, he tossed the towel heâd been drying his face with onto the sink, then slipped through his room to grab a long-sleeved shirt and shut the door before heading for the front door.  Heâd been told that Jones also had her office in her living room, and it made him wonder if she was as broke as he was, or just thought it was convenient.  He was betting the former, though he couldnât argue that it was nice not to potentially miss a client because he wasnât quite at the office, yet. Â
     When he opened the door, he honestly wished heâd had time for coffee, if nothing else, because there was a split second of his mind blanking upon seeing a beautiful woman standing out there with his card in hand.  It was like some kind of throwback to the old detective pulps, and he felt the furthest from one of those hardened, gruff investigators that you could possibly get.  He blinked for just a beat too long, probably imperceptible behind his otherwise neutral expression, and then remembered he had bedhead and figured that professionalism was a lost cause.  Maybe the shirt had smoothed his hair slightly.
     "C'mon in,â he told her, clearing his throat and stepping out of her way before leading her through the front of the apartment towards his desk.  On the way, he gave into the urge to run his hand through his red hair, seeking to attempt taming it, but that might have been a loss for the moment.  "What can I do for you?â
    Weight had begun to shift in the balls of her feet and somewhere to the heel when the door swung open to reveal the man she was hoping would take her case. he wasnât what she had been expecting, but then if she actually thought about it she wasnât sure if sheâd formed any sort of expectations at all. For now she was more concerned with that stiff and brief silence between them before he remembered why she might have been knocking so early and asked her to come in.
    The first step was surprisingly difficult, almost as if the muscles in her legs knew the gravity of what walking into his office meant for her. It meant chasing down old ghosts and maybe getting answers she wasnât sure she was ready to hear. But they moved, the heel of her boot making a heavy thud upon the old floor beneath her before the other moved to propel her forward and follow after him.
    The air in his apartment felt warm and perhaps just a little stale, but she put that down to the fact that heâd clearly just rolled out of bed -the hair was a giveaway, not that it made a difference to her- and he hadnât had chance to crack a window and let the morning air in.
    It was his question that had her snapping back to the here and now, her brain frantically trying to piece together how she was going to even broach the subject of what she wanted and why she had chosen to come to him. Instead, she stalled for a bit of time by seating herself in a worn and comfortable looking chair, her left leg draping over the right where it could bob and twitch to its hearts content.
    â Ah jusâ wanna thank you for letting me in, first and foremost. â Her southern manners were nothing if not impeccable when she wanted them to be. â Ah know itâs early and Ahâm sorry if Ah woke you. â He had to be used to this, right? Clients coming in and then stammering over themselves before getting to the point of why they were there in the first place.
    â Ah need you tâhelp me find someone... someone who ainât easy tâtrack down. â
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