SSA Émile Yeager

FBI Senior Special Agent. I think they assigned me here to get me out of their hair. RP Blog.

[ssayeager-blog]

cricket-carroll‌:

“Mrs. actually,” Cricket corrected, not used to being talked to so bluntly. Most people who talked to her at least were more polite, and while she didn’t know the newcomer, it wasn’t as if she didn’t have more expectations when people talked to her.  She had always assumed that her presence had demanded it. “And I doubt that anyone’s going to die,” she continued, handing a candle to someone walking past as she talked, “God cleared up the weather so that we could have this vigil, so I highly doubt that anything’s going to happen in opposition to that.” 

“So I’m guessing that you’ve been assigned here to look for Cassie?” she asked, figuring that would be the only reason that any kind of agent was stationed in Wheeler, “Because if that’s the case, I’ve been leading a search party daily to try and find her and can give you the areas that we’ve covered and what we’ve found.”

“Well isn’t he lucky.” The completely flat response was equally blunt, but also was very simple. Émile had never been someone who was a fan of standing on ceremony. He was going to be honest and he was going to tell people what they should hear. “We thought the same thing during the carnival, and then the body turned up.” The statement was simple. “Do you genuinely believe that? Because from everything we’ve seen, it seems that the perpetrators believe that God is on their side.”

“I’ve been assigned here as a Liaison and to run the investigation.” He stated as openly as he could. “Just stay in contact with the police department. We can’t have a bunch of civilians just running around and doing whatever they think is best with no understanding of what we legally can do and what we should do.”

[ssayeager-blog]

ben-raleigh‌:

“That wasn’t in the file,” Ben blurted out, though he should already know by now that so many things were often redacted from case reports that go public. He remembered reading about it the first time, group of grad school kids in a lecture room as Carmila Douglas explained to them the nuances of the case, Ben wondered now what she would have thought had the ritualistic aspect been revealed.

“…She’d be fucking excited,” the reporter murmured. Ben picked up his drink and after taking a swig returned his attention back to Emile.”So what did your experts make of it? The FBI would have hired specialists to decode it, right? Or was it too strange and unusual to be taken seriously?”

“I’d have hoped most people wouldn’t’ve seen the file.” Émile stated flatly. He knew that the investigation had gained some form of notoriety, however he still felt uncomfortable that there were people in the world who knew his name and the name of his late partner, Sami Esperanza. He missed them. He knew that he still missed them even though it had been 5 years now since they had been taking away from them.

“It was based around the head and his personality. It was a way for him to make it so everyone else who was involved was complicit in such horrid crimes they wouldn’t turn on him. And it also gave him another way to sway everyone.” He stated with a slight shrug of his shoulders before looking away for a second. “We always have to take seriously the things that the people we’re investigating are.”

[ssayeager-blog]

amiraglenn‌:

“Well that depends on who you ask in town,” she smirked as she went to sit down in the seat from across from him. There were dozens of rumors floating around town about her, each more crazier than the last, such as one including her very own immortality. Because yes, if she were some ancient hellbeast, Wheeler, Indiana was exactly the place she’d seek out to spend eternity in. “If you’re looking to buy an elixir for eternal life though, I’m sorry to say all fresh out.” 

She knew of course that wasn’t the reason why the agent had found her little farmhouse in the woods, despite the whole dark and mysterious edge he carried, she didn’t see him as someone who held that deep of a belief in the occult. When he did voice his intentions though, she found herself all the more curious. ‘Someone such as yourself’ she almost had a mind to ask him what he meant, try to tease him a bit. Instead though she found herself asking, “And what would that be?” 

“Good to know you haven’t let all of the outside pressure get you down.” Émile replied with a slight addition of humor to his voice. Wheeler had been an odd place and an odd transition for him. Though he couldn’t begin to imagine how odd it must be for the woman who was sitting in front of him. “Well at least you know that’s one product that won’t have many repeat customers.”

Émile’s eyes darted around the room quickly. He had heard tell of the fact that one of the deputies was rather close with the woman in front of him, and he knew that most people would have a slight issue with what he was about to say. It totally broke protocol. Any semblance of it. But he needed to get it out into the open air. “I don’t speak for everyone involved in the investigation of course, but only myself. However, I feel like looking at the evidence and the things we know about these people... the religious aspects, the reference to themselves as judges... they seem to be Christian zealots in a way. So the point I’m trying to make here is simple. In my mind, you’re cleared of suspicion. Again, not speaking for everyone but just for myself. It seems to me you would find this whole contrivance that they’re carrying on wouldn’t be in your preferred tool set.”

[ssayeager-blog]

amiraglenn‌:

“Well come back to me after you try to run a small business for ten years, then we’ll see what you say,” she said casually as she looked over to the federal agent who’d been sitting in the seat usually taken by clients in her reading room. Folding her arms she looked over to him, uncertain of his true intentions for seeking her out that day. Her paranoia had only grown since the message, which wasn’t helped by the “Where’s Cassie?” note someone had so politely spray-painted across the side of her house only days before. 

“So then what does bring you here?”, she asked, figuring she might as well get to the point. “A sudden urge to have your palm read?” 

“Death and taxes are still the only two inevitabilities in this world. Unless your magic has found a solution to the first of those?” Émile asked, genuinely intrigued as to what her answer would be. He had noticed the spray painted message as he had walked in. He had a reasonable belief that Amira hadn’t been involved in the kidnapping, with all the anti-church events surrounding the kidnapping it would just be almost too obvious for the woman to have been involved. So either she was trying to hide in plain sight, or she wasn’t involved.

“Could be that. It could always help the case to have some friends from beyond or from above. Mystics can be helpful.” He stated with a slight shrug as he leaned back in the chair he was sitting in. “I’m also here somewhat on business. I typically don’t update people not involved in the investigation, but I figured someone such as yourself would appreciate knowing some things I was starting to believe.”

[ssayeager-blog]

cricket-carroll‌:

Armed with a basket of candles and a soft smile, Cricket was glad to see the turnout for the vigil was so strong. She couldn’t understand why the police were so against it - after all, God clearing up the storm was obviously a sign that He wanted it to go on. It had seemed like Cassie had fallen to the background of so many people’s thoughts, and the woman couldn’t help but believe this would get people’s minds, hearts, and prayers in the right place.  And the number of people who showed up only encouraged her. 

Her lavender umbrella was hooked around her wrist (just in case) and her hair was pinned up in a bun that seemed to have been hairsprayed within an inch of its life to keep from moving in the breeze that still blew, Cricket handed a candle to someone who just walked in.  “Thank you so much for coming,” she said, “I know that the Kleins appreciate it. It’s been so hard for them lately, and I can only imagine how heartwarming it is for them to see they still have this much support.”

Émile had no desire to have the vigil occur. There were going to be too many people. They wouldn’t be able to protect everyone. The event would be such a huge target. He knew, internally, and personally, all the reasons why letting this go on was such a tragedy. Why it could allow a greater tragedy. But with the limited numbers on the forces here... he had no say in the matter. So he would do his best at playing security, but he wouldn’t be happy about it.

As the woman walked up to him, he instantly regretted the fact he was wearing exclusively black clothing. He knew immediately that he must have looked like a mourner. As the candle hit his hand, he quickly offered it back towards the woman in front of him. “I’m just here as an Agent miss.” He stated simply, a slight edge left in his voice. “I am not here to mourn, I am only here to make sure you all don’t die.”

[ssayeager-blog]

cfsinners‌:

   She nearly felt the need to ask what he meant, but the question passed her mind, likely left for a better day when she felt up to being patient and interested. All she knew for now was that they were both hiding secrets, and that Yeager would be the one to crack first when the time came. As though the way he had sagged hadn’t proven her point. There was something snapping at his heels, but whether it was an all-the-time thought or just an opportune one, she didn’t know. Did she really want to ask what he meant this time around?    “Yeah?” A pause or two followed, expecting him to shed light on what he meant and the grief stricken across his face. He was a good man as far as she could tell. That was the only thing about his job: it was not meant for good men. It would be interesting to figure out what made him tick. But all the same, how could he believe that this was something he had tackled before? How many times had a woman dropped a hammer by his front door, or had he dealt with some cult?    “You can’t rush things?” The librarian repeated, her back to the glass that separated them from the outside. Her expression screamed that what he was saying was incredulous. Her mouth drawn open, brows scrunched down. “They had a butcher knife, Yeager. For all we know, someone’s dead. It could have been me.“ Sure, he might have been doing his best, but if he was going to lie like the rest of the police station, then he didn’t deserve more than they did. It was up to people like Ben Raleigh to get the truth. “And what are you going to do about it? Sit in your shitty motel, at your desk and ignore that people are getting killed now? It shouldn’t have taken long enough for someone to die in the first place. You know that, right?”

His silence around anything that came close to emotional conversation was not something that Émile had intended to develop as he had aged. It had seemed to have been an unwanted aid in avoiding a close relationship with people during the last decade. Though at this point he was just extremely conflicted. Did he tell the woman? Did she even want to know? Or was he just... an FBI Agent. Some outsider who was forced to be in the town she called home. Some unnecessary, unwanted presence who was hurting her and her town’s identity. The possibilities of how people would dislike him always weighed heavily on his mind, and this was no different.

“Yeah. I was in Texas and Mexico for a bit. I was investigating this cartel. It was five years. My partner and I were sent in ten years ago, I came home five years ago. They never did. They uh... they were also my... partner you know?” He tried to explain as much as he could. He was a fuck up, he knew that much. Maybe if he had been then Sami would still be alive. Maybe they would’ve come back with him. Or maybe they would’ve come back and he would’ve been the one to lose himself. “But yeah, the cartel seemed to also be a cult. Based around Santeria and stuff. Kinda Like Adolfo Constanzo’s outfit in the 90s. Some... really fucked up shit happened there. Stuff I still see when I close my eyes you know?” Émile was desperate to try and explain the things he had experienced. 

“Of course I fucking know things should’ve never gotten this far. But guess what? When you’re playing chess with Bobby Fischer, all you can do is hope that he makes a mistake! They’re fucking smart. They’re like... I’ve not seen them really fuck up yet. And they’re always one step ahead. As long as they know the PDs moves before we make them, they’ll beat us.” He stated, standing up from where he was seated and turning towards the woman. “If I did what I want to do, I would go back out there with both of my guns and shoot anyone wearing white that I saw! But I can’t do that. They need to face real justice. The type that doesn’t make me as bad as them. More people won’t help... we need... a miracle.”

[ssayeager-blog]

ben-raleigh‌:

@ssayeager

Date: July 2019 ( weekend after the blackout ) Location: A bar in downtown Wheeler

There were talks of strangers dressed in white wreaking havoc on establishments, with some reports of break-ins and violent attacks on residents that The Wheeler Watch Chronicle wouldn’t run out things to publish until next week. It bordered on the absurd but with the shotgun stowed under his car seat, Ben had no reason to dismiss such claims. 

He found the federal agent sitting by his lonesome, hard to miss when it seemed that all the man brought to Wheeler were nothing but black suits; dramatic and stylish, sure, but it wasn’t doing the man any favors in making the residents feel at ease. But that wasn’t the point, was it? Emile wasn’t there to make them feel at ease, he was there to do a job, something the reporter understood.

Not bothering to ask for permission, Ben took a seat in the vacant spot beside him before gesturing for a round of whatever it was the law enforcer was drinking.

“Tell me you’ve encountered something like this in your long, illustrious career,” the reporter remarked.

Emile’s eyes danced over to the reporter who had sat next to him. He knew that no matter what had happened in town the man who was sitting with him must have had a perverse sense of enjoyment about it. At least from a professional standpoint. He wasn’t offering a judgement on the other man at all. He just understood that the jobs they had to do put them in opposing positions at certain points in time.

Looking at the reporter as he sat down, hearing his words, evoked only a long and drawn out sigh from the FBI Agent. There was only the one case that was anything similar. The only case he hated as much as the one he was currently on. The only case that made every hair on his body stand up and every cell in his body seem to recoil in shame. The Cartel case. He wasn’t sure how much the reporter knew, but he might be about to learn more than he wanted to know.

“Yeah... something sorta like this. When I was down in Texas around the Mexican border doing the cartel case there was a whole... aspect of it that just made my skin crawl about the same way that this does. We didn’t acknowledge it ever but there were definitely... rituals and stuff happening.”

[ssayeager-blog]

amiraglenn said:“government employees will rob you blind.”

Émile’s eyebrow quirked up as he turned his head towards the witch. He wasn’t offended, though he was somewhat curious as to what had directly contributed to that statement. He shrugged his shoulders and sat further back in the chair. “I suppose that’s a possibility with some of them. Though I’m sure that isn’t true across the board.” The reply was said with a hint of amusement in his voice. “Don’t worry, I tend to not feel like stealing is a particular skill of mine.”

[ssayeager-blog]

recvrsive‌:

A MESSAGE PINGED ON THEIR SCREEN, and Nora could only grin widely as they tapped their thumb to the fingerprint scanner and unlocked their phone, hands making quick work of a reply. easy there, buddy, they typed, ur just in my top 5. for, like, today. who knows what tmrrw will bring tho? 🧐🧐🧐 A couple seconds passed, before they started typing again. brb, screencapping this & sending it to ur immediate supervisor. fbi still accepts anonymous tips, right? Another few seconds and then they added another: 10 mins, budz. i’m counting on that. any preference on what 2 watch or should i surprise u? Then Nora locked their phone, though they kept it on vibrate and put it in their pocket just in case Émile replied, and they set to work setting the stage for a night off for the two of them, taking out their usual stash for weed nights like this: crisps and weed and the good old pipe they bought in Amsterdam, pulling out a drawer and taking it with them as they then moved to their living room, fluffing up the pillows and switching on the TV as they waited for either Émile’s response or his arrival—whichever came first.

Émile turned the car onto Nora’s street and slowed down somewhat, driving slowly down as he watched to see that nothing crazy was happening in the neighbourhood. Finally finding the house that Nora had told him to come to, he parked his car and got out. Looking down at the messages he had received, Émile let out a couple soft chuckles as he walked towards the door. He had always enjoyed spending time with the other person. Their humor was just one of the aspects of that. Reaching the door, he rang the doorbell and waited for it to open.

[classic-starters]

starters from the 2010 film, SHUTTER ISLAND

“i’m just bones in a box, ( name ).”

“that’s the spirit.”

“you have to let me go.”

“if i was to sink my teeth into your eye right now, would you be able to stop me before i blinded you?”

“i love you so much.”

“which is worse: to live as a monster or to die as a good man?”

“you’re smarter than you look. that’s probably not a good thing.”

“what if while you were looking into them, they were looking into you?”

“it’s an island; they’re always gonna find us.”

“did you know that the word ‘trauma’ comes from the greek for ‘wound’?”

“you think they’re onto us?”

“you came here alone.”

“wounds can create monsters, and you are wounded.”

“( name ), you have no friends.”

“don’t you get it? you’re a rat in the maze.”

“your match is about to go out!”

“this has always been about you.”

“you gotta make a choice.”

“pull yourself together!”

“where are my goddamn cigarettes?”

“government employees will rob you blind.”

“he had a lot to say about you.”

“this paper could be important.”

“all i can say is i’ll see what i can do.”

“what about those caves down there? have you checked them?”

“define unusual.”

“after that, i thought of you.”

“how am i supposed to survive?!”

“don’t you know how lonely i’ve been, ( name )?!”

“who the fuck are you? who are you?”

“i buried an empty casket.”

“looks like an ex - military prick.”

“you should have saved me. you should have save all of us.”

“clocks ticking, my friend. we’re running out of time.”

“he isn’t gone. he’s still here.”

“trust me: you haven’t heard shit.”

“you promised. you lied.”

“let me see your face.”

“i’ll never get out now.”

“they knew! don’t you get it? everything you were up to. your whole plan. this is a game. all of this, it’s for you.”

“then they’ve already won.”

“i trust this man.”

[ssayeager-blog]

cfsinners‌:

   Throwing the towel over her arm as she peered just a little more vigorously out into the storm, she really only turned her head back to look at him when he first responded. “You’re not hitting on me, are you?” She was able to finish the statement without laughing, but her straight-face had soon split into a chuckle. “I’d make all your clothes look better,” she remarked, drawing a yawn from between her lips. Some sleep would do her good, but this time she wasn’t up for trusting Yeager. Her faith in random strangers had reached its peak for the day, and there was no telling if her cat was tearing up what little furniture she had in her apartment.     After having crossed an arm in front of her, she huffed out the most grievous, exhausted sigh she could muster like it would make her anymore interested in being there. It didn’t, though he wasn’t really that bad. There was a certain limit that she’d reach with bullshit in a day, and interacting with anybody definitely added to her bullshit meter. When they’d met in the library she’d been all niceties and nosy. Now, she hadn’t any problem laying things out like they were.     “Maybe you ought to start playing nice with others then. Because it’s not just some spoiled brat missing anymore, it’s a dead, decapitated man, and at least a couple of murderers who for some reason prefer white to black. I don’t know if you’ve dealt with shit quite this fucked before, but if anybody had any leads, then the police would have taken some action by now.” Was it panic that had caused her to ramble, or just plain exhaustion concerning the matter at hand? At this point, she couldn’t tell, even after she fed him a sour look at the suggestion of DC. It wasn’t the last place she’d go, but it definitely wasn’t somewhere that she’d like to set up shop. She heard Maine was beautiful and calm though – all a pipe dream until she could get the money she needed to do any such thing.     “I’m not your caretaker.” She looked him up and down upon his approach, sizing up whether he needed one no matter what she said. “Look, I don’t know. The water should be warm still. But, I’m not sure if you have anything else comfortable to wear in there,” she jerked her thumb towards his wardrobe before continuing, “seeing as you gave me this.” The reference was more so to the fact that his name was on it, and definitely not aimed at the quality of the clothes. They did a mighty good job at keeping her warm, even when she was pressed up against the window, looking like she might refuse to leave her perch until the rain came to an end.

A slight smirk quirked the side of his face at her question before he shrugged and shook his head slightly. “Just paying a compliment. I tend to not really get into the whole... relationship stuff anymore.” He elaborated, trying to not have to elaborate much further on it, though he knew that the longer he was around people here the sooner some of the aspects of his past would come out. Especially what had happened in some of his previous cases. It definitely was not a benefit to him that Ben Raleigh seemed to know who he was. 

He knew she didn’t want to be there for any longer than she had to. And the feeling was somewhat mutual. Not to say that he didn’t want her around, she seemed intriguing and would have definitely been someone he was interested in when he was younger. But he knew his age difference with the majority of people in this town, and his status as an outsider meant he would always have a difficult time interacting with the locals.

“I have dealt with shit this fucked up before.” Any semblance of amusement or joy sapped out of his voice at the admission, his shoulders dropping, seemingly being weighed down by... guilt? memories? some negative feeling brought on by the past. Typically, when working, this would be when he would stiffen his back and raise his chin and continue as unfeeling as he could. But he couldn’t pull himself up this time. Maybe he was starting to get a bit too old for this game. “We have some theories. But they’re good. And we can’t rush things. It’s too important.”

After her comment about the clothes, he forced a weary nod and started to turn back, heading over to his desk. About two steps in he wondered if he should say something although he didn’t. He didn’t really know what to say. She was right. They should have already figured out people who would be prime suspects, but everyone he could think of... it never felt right. It seemed like every time a theory was presented it was inconceivable to some people that it could be true. Maybe arrests weren’t coming. And maybe he wouldn’t finish his final assignment. Sighing heavily, he sat down in the chair and started reviewing the case files.

[ssayeager-blog]

ofmcthers‌:

Heart thudding in her chest, Paula obeyed his actions, quietly slipping into the room, gently closing the door behind her and sitting with her legs crossed. Somehow, she felt as if she was under the searing heat of a spotlight - as if she was in trouble. It took her back, way back, to principle’s offices and positions of authority. “Sorry - I would have brought a cake. Or cookies but - I wasn’t really up to baking.” And something, call it intuition, told her that Agent Yeager wouldn’t have been thrilled with those offerings. 

“But um - I came here because - “ Paula hated how disjointed she sounded, how weak. She was here to advocate for her daughter, for her family. She needed to summon strength from somewhere. “I wanted to ask you to do something for me. I won’t ask for a promise because - because life doesn’t work like that and I’d never ask someone to make a promise they might not be able to keep but - “  Taking a deep breath, she steadied herself, blinking away quickly forming tears. “I want to ask you not to give up on Cassie. To ask the whole organisation, really. The Government? I guess. I know she’s just one girl. And I know there’s another body but - but she’s my girl. And she matters. She shouldn’t be swept aside because - because there’s another mystery, or because the case gets hard. So - so please, please don’t give up on her.”

Émile leaned forward, allowing the light to spill further onto his face as he listened to the woman’s words. He understood what she was doing. A lot of parents would do things like this. Make sure that you would follow through. That you knew how important their child was. He nodded along as he listened to her.

“If it makes you feel any better. I don’t give up on any cases.” He stated simply, trying to reassure her somewhat. He had a deep enough connection the feelings of the people around the victim’s that he knew some of what people were going through. Though at least what had happened with him had been so climactic, so final, that these was no deluding himself into thinking it might have a happy ending. “I’ve been involved with the bureau for... twenty-seven years now. I’m giving this assignment my full attention. I hope you understand that.”

[ssayeager-blog]

cfsinners‌:

   Another time she would have been interested in the sprawl of info on his desk. Maybe even a wealth of information she would try and get her nose in after she was warm and comfortable. For now, her only focus was on getting these sopping wet clothes off, beginning with the shoes and socks that she was slowly peeling away from her body.     “It’s fine.” Her words didn’t make it clear whether she was referring to the shower, the clothes, or him staying in the room. As long as there was no repeat of that Psycho shower scene, she would be fine. And she could trust an FBI agent to make sure that no freak with a knife barged their way past him and into the bathroom.     Pushing herself from the wall, she stumbled towards the clothes he’s laid out on the bed. Any other time she might have produced anything better than an exhausted exhale, meant to be half of a laugh. It wasn’t every day that she hid in a tool shed and got picked up by a federal agent though. So, she could write off her inability to draw charisma, not that she cared in the moment when she reached for the clothes.     “Thanks.” A statement that came after the fact, when she had gotten the shower to work and she had not taken advantage of the hot water that she knew would not last for long. Her clothes had been thrown up over the metal shower curtain so that they might dry in peace, and her glasses had been popped on her face after having been set on the sink. The clothes were warm, baggy, and the opposite of anything she’d ever wear in public. The towel she had retrieved from the bathroom was being used currently to dry her hair when she walked out, not bothering to try and use his horrendous shampoo.     The good news was that she was much calmer now, strolling towards the sole window he had, and peering out of the curtains at the ever pressing thunderstorm. “You need to call more agents up.” She told him, not asked, nor begged. After what she’d seen today, they needed at least two more wandering around Wheeler ( preferably as eye-candy ). “Or I need to move. One or the other.” She needed to move where there were more pretty FBI employees definitely. How many were in Russia at any one time? A question that she deigned not to ask. “You don’t need to shower do you?”

Émile sat on the bed as the younger woman used his shower. He didn’t want to change too much, but he was somewhat tired of wearing his full suit. As she continued her shower, he had stripped off his jacket and his dress shirt, hanging them up within his wardrobe, making sure they were easily accessible. Though the wardrobe was more than half full of suit jackets, dress shirts and slacks. Returning to the bed, he sat down, dressed in his dress pants and his sleeveless undershirt.

Seeing Charity come out of the washroom, he offered up a slight smile as she walked toward the window. “Well you definitely make those clothes look far better than I ever have.” He responded to her thanking him. And the agent actually meant it. She was quite an attractive young woman, though he was very aware that she was quite a bit younger than him. He started to stand and walk towards the desk to rearrange some papers and possibly write some notes from what she had said earlier, when he heard the next thing that she had said.

Shaking his head slightly he glanced over towards her. “I doubt they would do anything based on what I requested. I’m pretty notorious for preferring to work alone.” The agent replied with a slight shrug as he looked down for a second. “Though D.C. is really nice sometimes.” He stated, allowing a small shred of his life away from Wheeler to be revealed. “I’m okay I think, Unless you think I should shower?” He asked, approaching the window where she was standing.

[ssayeager-blog]

ofmcthers‌:

@ssayeager, the police station

Paula wasn’t sure what FBI agents were supposed to make you feel like. Up until now, her experience with them had been half-watching the trashy TV shows Bobby liked to watch when they had put Cassie to bed, occasionally looking up from her novel to comment. There always seemed to be a pain to them - some deep trauma that unwound them all at once, not piece by piece. The difference between fiction and reality was a mystery. Or it had been, until she had met Emile - an experience that…Paula hated to think ill of people, so she didn’t.

But he wasn’t like the Law Enforcement she had known her entire life - the kind who had watched her grow from hopscotching girl to attending her wedding, who she saw every Sunday at Church, who were so so familiar. He wasn’t from Wheeler. He didn’t know Wheeler. Or Cassie. Or Bobby. Or her. 

But she needed him to care just as much anyway.

Nodding at the familiar faces as she passed through the precinct, asking for directions along the way - Paula knocked lightly at the agents door, patiently practising her rehearsed lines - determined not to fall to stitches. Ask for his theory. Ask for updates. Ask him to stick it out until the end - not to give up…the door opened and the words fell out of her head. “Good Afternoon Agent Yeager. I was wondering if I could have a moment of your time?”

Émile looked up from the desk he had set up, allowing his eyes to catch against the whiteboard covered in photos and evidence. The knock had been soft. Most of the officers knew not to intact with the FBI Agent while he was working, though if they needed to, he assumed they would barge right in. This person was most likely not an officer then. Making a decision, he closed the laptop he was working on and pushed himself to his feet.

Walking towards the door, he stopped just long enough to turn the whiteboard around. There was no need for anyone other than himself and the few officers he was beginning to trust, including that young rookie, to see what he was working on. After making sure it wasn’t obvious, he opened the door and saw the woman.

He immediately recognized her face. She was Paula Klein. The mother. Hearing her question, he nodded before turning back towards his desk. “Yeah. You can sit down. And close the door behind you.” He stated as he made his way towards the seat he had just risen from. Finally finding his way back into the seat, he leaned back somewhat in the chair as he looked across the desk at the woman. “So what is it you want from me?”

[ssayeager-blog]

cfsinners‌:

   She allowed a thought to pass through her mind, detached and elusive as it was, she likely would have laughed at it after the fact. If anybody were watching, they had to look fucking crazy. Not that she thought that anybody could see them through the downpour. For half a second, she hesitated on this count. She hated looking ridiculous, as most people did, but for Charity it was perhaps more akin to a pet peeve. It made her skin crawl, even when she looked unimpressed by his press check, and especially when she threw her car door open to sprint towards the motel room door. The moments during and after a flurry of activity. She couldn’t remember if the door was open, or who had unlocked it if it wasn’t.    All she knew was that she had not seen a blur of white, or heard the sound of a gunshot ring out through the air by the time she had stumbled into his room. She was leaning against the horrific wallpaper, elbows pressing into the wall as she thought distantly of the other people she knew out in the storm. Was Nora alright? Mads? Or had she just been over-dramatic when she thought she’d seen those white silhouettes in that dusty window? For all she knew, this was a horrible, livid dream.     “Please tell me you have hot water in that shower,” she breathed out, amidst a new coat of rain on her back and the curls she spoke into. It’d always been a fifty-fifty shot for her at her apartment when it came to cold water, but hopefully he had it better. 

Emile had managed to keep himself a couple steps ahead of her as they had made their way to the door, which he had quickly unlocked. It wasn’t a difficult door to open and he let her enter first, glancing around to make sure the coast remained clear. Offering a slight shrug as he noticed there seemed to be no one anywhere near them, he entered the room and looked at the woman. 

Seeing her leaning against the wall, unloaded his gun quickly and put it on the table next to the small television. Looking around the room he felt somewhat apologetic for the lack of comfort or places for her to sit. “Sorry. I live pretty simple, so I only got the double bed.” The room was extremely simple and not particularly comfortable. There was the small television on the table. Across from that the unmade double bed. A small wardrobe by the door, and then a nightstand on either side of the bed. The walls were covered in terrible wallpaper and the windows were extremely dusty. A small desk sat parallel to the bed, against the wall that was shared by the bathroom. However, the desk was entirely covered by the Agent’s files and various photos. Moving to sweep as much of them together and out of sight as he cool he looked over at the woman.

“Yeah most of the time I have hot water. Though I don’t know if the Motel has a generator to keep it mostly hot during the blackout. I can show you how to turn on the water and stuff if you need.” He offered, as he crossed towards the wardrobe and opened it. He looked through the clothes that were in there momentarily before finding the two he needed and throwing them onto the bed. “Sorry but the only things I have with me that would fit you would be the Bureau sweats. A grey sweatshirt with the logo over the word Quantico on the front, with the name Yeager on the back. And a pair of black sweatpants with the letters FBI on the thigh. “It might not be the best, but at least it won’t be soaked you know?” He stated, offering the clothes to her. “I’ll stay in this room unless you want me to go out front or anything.”

[ssayeager-blog]

recvrsive : “If you’re not over here in fifteen minutes, you can find a new best friend.”

Émile raised his eyebrow as he read the text message that he had received. He laughed quietly as he looked down at the message. Quickly he typed out a pretty humorous (by his standards) reply. “Now Nora, if I’m your best friend, that’s a pretty sad state of affairs don’t you think? But don’t worry bud, I’ll be over in like ten.” He replied with a chuckle as he grabbed his jacket and headed to his car. Thinking for a second, he pulled his phone out and typed a second message as he turned the key in the ignition. “Hey, I’m probably not gonna be drug tested for the next three weeks and I’ve been stressed as hell. Just a thought I had. Haven’t... partook in years so I might be down.”

[ssayeager-blog]

ben-raleigh‌:

The stranger in the dark suit threw off whatever ploy the young men had planned for Ben, though the reporter seemed unbothered by the attempted shake-up; besides, he had since lost interest in the young hooligans as he focused his attention on the well-dressed tourist. The boys thought differently however and tried to have their sodas replaced as promised, but Ben had already changed his mind.

Raising his camera and pointing at the group, the reporter took a few, quick shots before announcing that they were going to be on the paper. “That’s a good tip to get free shit, we gotta let the rest of Wheeler know about this,” Ben remarked with a grin, but when one of them tried to grab his camera, he bellowed a warning. “Hey! Hands off alright? Now get the fuck out of here before I call security.”

A final ‘asshole!’ was called out to Ben by the teenagers as they walked away which only made him laugh, and only when they were finally gone did he address the other man. “Yeah, they’re the same kids who hustle tourists at Mann’s and Dairy Queen,” he explained. “But they’re harmless.”

Ben didn’t bother hiding that he was observing the stranger, the man was out of place and moved too rigidly that the reporter couldn’t help but form theories as to who he might be. “What were you gonna pull out in there, a gun?” 

Émile watched the boys as they backed off, glad that the situation hadn’t escalated any further. Looking towards the man in front of him he thought for a couple seconds. “Good to know. I’ll try and stay frosty if I ever wind up going by either of those places then. Though I doubt many people would ever try and mess with me once it gets out why I’m here.” The statement was simple and cool, holding almost no real conviction behind it, but just edged with enough truth that he knew many people wouldn’t be too focused on him.

Pointing at the camera he commented on the boy’s intentions. “You must be pretty glad that you kept that thing safe. Seems like it would cost a pretty penny. So I’m guessing you use it for more than just... fair photos.” The assertion was almost as bland as the earlier statement, the observation being rather quick and simple to the FBI Agent. Most people didn’t spend much money on the cameras they got.

When he heard the final question though, Émile simply shook his head. “No I would’ve pulled my badge first. My gun is always a last resort.” He meant what he said too. If he ever pulled a gun, it meant things had gotten very very bad. And that was not something he hoped would happen very much in this town. “I’m Senior Special Agent Émile Yeager, Federal Bureau of Investigation. I’m the attaché on the Klein case.” He introduced himself as he offered a hand towards the other man.