cont'd from an age before time (@mindxthief)
“Your loss, dude. Who knows what nefarious purposes those Skittles will be put to now?” She’d found the flyer earlier in the day, and it had sounded promising. Help in any affair, mundane or monstrous--hers definitely wasn’t mundane. When she’d tapped the address on that flyer into her phone’s GPS, it had led her to a little eatery called the Scrawny Crawdad, and she’d wondered if the app had glitched. Everything on her phone seemed to be doing that more and more, lately. Stupid thing barely worked. ‘Scuse me, is there an August Faust that works here, or something? she’d asked a man outside. I found this flyer, I thought I wrote the address down right, but I’m not sure if I came to the right place... The man--he looked somewhere near her age--had introduced himself as August Faust, told her she’d come to exactly the right place, and asked what had brought her to him. I’d rather not say, out here, she’d told him right away. You can never be too careful... She’d made a joke of it, but it wasn’t much of a joking matter. “Anyway... never really know who could be listening in, right? Is there somewhere we can talk that’s not so out in the open?”
August had no problem retreating into a space that didn't smell like riverside low-tide and didn't carry September's bitter chill down his spine. Oregon winters had been fierce and callous, and autumn in New Orleans should have been more mild, more gentle. But it was only getting colder and colder. What did they say in A Game of Thrones? 'Winter is coming'? It felt like one hell of a winter. The echomancer nodded to the stranger, and thumbed to some rickety stairs in need of fresh nails, paint, wood...really, a full replacement would do wonders for anyone with a fear of heights or of tetanus. "My office is right up here." He said, leading her up the stairs. There was a small white door built into the wall, along with a window that had a little box cooler sticking out the side of it. "Workplace isn't so bad if you don't mind smelling delicious food all day making you hungrier than a bear in a Whole Foods." The office space was cozy--or as cozy as uneven paychecks and hand-me-downs could make it. There was a desk, a bookshelf, and squashy armchairs that had definitely seen better days only during the Prohibition. The walls had maps, posters, and diagrams. There was even a little table by the door, with August-made flyers. These weren't anything exciting, like what do when a vampire breaks in. These were more like life hacks in the big city. 'Cheap Meals For Stretching Your Wallet'. 'Your Guide to Wrenches'. The sorts of things you don't think you'll need until you're living alone. August's dad had called this sort of thing 'paying it forward'. Whatever August's opinion of the man, he'd been right about that. August sat down in a chair behind his desk. An electric guitar was mounted on the walls behind him, his chair back to the corner, where his staff leaned against the wall. The guitar strings pressed into it gleamed as he turned on the desk light to allow a yellow glow to join the cooler-toned natural light of September in the Crescent City. "Have a seat." He invited. "And rest assured that this is 100% baby-free, so no chance of tiny government operatives. I didn't catch your name, by the way..."
