all she really has to go off of is a name. and an address. and her somewhat sketchy contact’s word that if she wants something done, or something taken care of, he’s her guy. whatever that means, she’s not exactly sure, but she’s willing to sniff out a lead, especially if it could lead to something big. a simple google search on him yields nothing. neither does a scouring of social media. ( seriously though, what kind of psychopath doesn’t even have a facebook account anymore? ) one flattery-laden phone call to matt yields nothing but the most vague mention of him being law enforcement at one point. and then that’s it. but any time she talks to anyone who was once nearly taken down by one of the corporations she’s looking into? they have his name. and mysteriously, their problems disappear. so...here she is.
the sticky note bearing his name and number folds neatly in her hand before she reaches up to rap lightly on his door, weight rolling onto the back of her heels before it swings open and she has a friendly smile at the ready. ❝ hi i’m looking for emil --- ❞ her eyes dart down to the paper, brows furrowing for a moment. ❝ kindal? kin-dall. sorry, i’m totally getting that wrong, ❞ her hand extends, smile brightening, no one would ever consider her a threat. ❝ caroline forbes. i was wondering if i could have a minute of your time? ❞ / @futuresees !













