Lost Ivory
@blckduchess
As it turns out, despite being usually quite organized Hangman can be painfully bad at recalling basic information when drunk. Last night, he made a note for himself that he had lessons with Ivory today. So he woke up this morning, vaguely hung over but logic enough and headed out to meet her. The issue being that his drunk self from last night had the wrong date- thinking it was a weekday as opposed to the weekend. So it’s only when he reaches the learning center and spends about 15 minutes trying to find Ivory he realizes that it’s entirely possible that either: 1. she’s dead and he must now accept that fact, 2. she’s extremely late and will be hearing about it when she gets here or 3. he has the wrong day of the week.
None of this stops him from calmly looking around the learning center yet again, though. This time he’s making a note to watch a few people around to entertain himself while he does so. The types who come here always have a certain fascinating air to them. Then again, perhaps that’s just a part of being a candidate. All of them have different ways their reacting to being put through this hellish lifestyle, but it develops them into odd cases- different types. He likes watching them to see the quirks they develop- the coping mechanisms. Some do better than others, he would say, but none of them would be here if they hadn’t found some way to deal with it.
His eye hover over one girl for a bit longer than the others- if only because for a split second he mistakes her for Ivory. In hindsight, they look completely different and he’s an idiot, but he really can’t be blamed for his quick glance failing him. She seems interesting enough, though, and he’s starting to get tired of looking for his Korean tutor... So he might as well speed this process up.
“Pardon me.” His voice shows no remorse for the interruption- empty as always. He gives a slight bow of his head as he approaches the woman. “Have you seen a woman around here named Ivory? She’s about my height, screams when you drive too quickly and has a horrible sense of aim...” A pause. He realizes that description is less than helpful, but physical features have never been as easy for him to describe as the quirks and characteristics he sees in a person.
“Ah... Short bob cut, dark brown. Softer face as well?” He’s not sure how much any of that is worth. “She was intended to meet me here.”