Ashton might’ve given more freedom than ever in the last two years in New York, but the DIA always occasionally checked in, making he knew they were watching. This time, getting him into the exhibit to look out for a potential crime. Intel noted suspicions and he was given a day to prepare. But that’s all he got, go to exhibit, gather Intel, of suspects, of muses, of artists newly bonded, report back. The exhibit opening felt normal, like any other upper class event, Ashton did his best to blend in, looking more like a guard than any of these people. A suspicious figure caught his eye as he reacted to follow them, lightly knocking into someone incoming, “sorry-” Shit. Ashton sighed at looking eyes on them before turning back to his current mistake at hand, “thought I saw a-- friend.. you alright?”
