Izaya had been interested in this man since he first spotted him wandering in and out of the Sunflower Apartments some days ago. He wasn't hard to miss, not exactly blending in with his eccentric appearance, which was a feat in and of itself, considering some of the rather quirky looking residents that frequented the city's streets.
While it was the stranger's attire that had initially caught the broker's attention, it wasn't what had gotten him interested, really interested, in this individual. No, it had more to do with the air around him, the way he carried himself. As someone who enjoyed people watching perhaps a little too much, Izaya had come to learn a few things over the years, discerningly perceptive at reading people and body language. His mannerisms, and the small, subtle changes when it seemed that nobody was watching him. This time, Izaya just couldn't shake the feeling than there was more than what meets the eye in this man's case.
Naturally, that led to an almost insatiable curiosity. What was his story? What was he hiding, and why? This city, he was aware, was full of different faces, many of which seeking fresh starts, and he himself was no exception. It wasn't such a strange thing, but if he could just catch this person's name, perhaps Izaya could do some digging. It was what he excelled at, after all. It wasn't a tricky task. A well-timed trip to collect his post one morning saw him able to steal a quick glance at the name printed on the front of an envelope, addressed to one 'Märchen von Friedhof', as the mail man was depositing it to the recipient's respective mailbox. It was a bit of a mouthful, foreign on his tongue, but at least now he had something to work with.
It didn't take long for him to catch wind of the whispers that shrouded this man's name after doing a little searching, each of them just adding to the veil of mysteries that cloaked him. How could he resist trying to steal a peek behind the veil?
A couple of days passed before the informant had made any sort of move, prioritising his work before pursuing his personal curiosities. He'd returned to the mailboxes on the bottom floor of the Sunflower Apartments, collecting his post and flipping through the letters and flyers as he did most mornings. This time, however, when he was sure that nobody was watching, Izaya slipped one of his addressed letters into the box for Room 6. It'd look like a simple mistake and all he had to do now was wait. Perhaps he would head out for coffee as he did so.
