InsaneJournal

Tweak says, ""I only have one question..""

Friedrich Johann Köhler (wolfwork) wrote in vie_en_guerre,
@ 2008-01-16 23:42:00

Current mood:

predatory

To have a human face we’ll have to start all over again...
Who: Friedrich Köhler and Jacinthe Beauchene
When: Mid-December, after the full moon but before Christmas.
Where: la Boulangerie Chabert
Summary: Suspect by association...
Complete/Incomplete: Incomplete.
Rating: PG13 for descriptions of not-niceness in the name of intimidation.

Friedrich pushed the door of the small bakery open, enveloped in a rush of warm, bread-scented air as he stepped in. The door clicked shut behind him; he let it fall, sharp brown-gold eyes scanning the shop front, taking in every detail. It was what he would have, at one point, considered a nice shop, if small; neat and welcoming. At that same, different point, the smell would have been delicious. Now, it smelled far too much of yeast and flour and to be enticing.

There was a thread of human scent beneath the flour; many humans, probably including the one he was looking for, the one that had brought him here. He fingered the worn scrap of paper in his pocket.

They’d tried to bring in a young man for questioning this morning - and he’d thrown himself in front of a car.

Messy, melodramatic, and – ultimately – counterproductive, as he’d had this address scribbled on paper and shoved into his glove. Granted, it may have simply been from a friend recommending a good bakery…but, then again, it may not have been, and men who were looking for bakeries rarely ran that far, that fast just to find a moving vehicle. So here he was.

He closed his eyes, taking the scrap of paper out and holding it, inhaling deeply, scouting for that one scent among all the others; the scent he’d drawn from that blood stained paper and the still-warm body on the street.

It was there. The man had been here. Friedrich just grinned, stepping to the counter and tapping one long, bony finger on the bell.

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parisiansaint
2008-01-19 05:15 pm UTC (link)

Jacinthe wiped her flowery hands off on a towel and hurried for the front, weaving around the other employees and the cart in the back. Smile on her face she moved to the counter to greet the customer.

Until she saw the customer. He had a distressing air about him and she had to hide a frown.

"Hello, how may I help you today?" She managed to force the smile back on her face, but it didn't reach her eyes.

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	wolfwork 2008-01-20 09:22 pm UTC (link)
	"I do not know that you can." Good. She wasn't smiling. She wouldn't be one to brush things off, quite. Friedrich managed a tight-lipped smile. "Tell me - a young man was in this morning. About my height, maybe a little shorter, blond curly hair," smelled like ink and yeast and coal. "Do you know this man?" (Reply to this) (Parent) (Thread)

parisiansaint
2008-01-21 02:38 am UTC (link)

"I'm sorry, I do not know." She spread her hands, indicating the people milling about the shop, bent over the counters and peering into the glass cases. "We get so many people in and out that I don't pay attention to any one of them. There are many who could match your discription." It was true - especially in this colder weather you had many customers moving in and out of the store all day. Her lies held much truth in them - it made the lies more believable.

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wolfwork
2008-01-21 04:09 pm UTC (link)

He watched her, closely - eyes narrowing dangerously. He rather got the impression she was lying. She was a good liar, to be sure - but her heart-rate changed in a way that someone telling the truth wouldn't have had happen.

"Do not lie to me, Fraulein." His words came out mild as he leaned on the counter. "A man such as I have described died today. He carried a paper with this address." He shrugged, fluidly. "We merely wish to...clean up the loose ends for the..." His French failed him; he searched for the correct words in German. "...Unglücksrabe."

Unlucky fellow. Though he supposed he was luckier than if he'd been caught...

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parisiansaint
2008-01-22 08:27 am UTC (link)

"May I see the paper?" She held her hand out, flour dusting her palm. "I might recognize the handwriting, since I do not recognize your desription." Jacinthe continued waiting, a slight smile on her face. "It could be any man in the city, the way you have described him. You have to be more specific."

How had he died. She didn't know him by name, but she knew him by numbers. It was distressing, but she kept her face schooled into an expression of curiousity - the expression of one who wants to hear about something at the same time as the don't. She didn't like how perceptive the man seemed.

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wolfwork
2008-01-23 04:26 am UTC (link)

He eyed her for a long moment, judging. Calculating. She was worried - but then, everyone worried around him. It seemed natural. He didn't mind. But she did not seem the type to be faint of heart; did not seem as if a little unpleasantness would throw off her mental equilibrium.

He set the bloody scrap of paper on the counter, spreading it smooth almost carelessly, almost caressingly. The blood was fresh. Not wet, but tacky; his fingers coming away red. He wiped them on his trousers, ignoring the oh so strong urge to lick them clean.

"It was, of course, a tragic accident."

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parisiansaint
2008-01-23 04:34 am UTC (link)

Jacinthe looked at the scrap of paper, then reached out, picking it up without shuddering at the same time as she reached for a damp rag that they left by the cash drawer in case something made a mess of the counter. Wiping at the blood without looking at it, she shrugged.

"I'm sorry, I don't recognize the writing here." Her fingers came up as she crossed herself with a quick, whispered prayer for his soul. "It could be he just was bad with directions and needed them written down or he would forget the way. It has happened before. Would you like this back?" She held it towards him, her own fingers now tacky feeling with the blood on them.

"I'm sorry I am not much help."

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wolfwork
2008-01-25 04:23 am UTC (link)

She whispered; he heard. Meaningless words of tradition...he barely kept this disdain from his face. Whether, however, the words were merely a kindhearted woman's sympathy, or a sympathy more personal, he could not say.

He took the paper back, letting his hand linger on her fingertips, smearing the blood.

"Oh, but you are a help." His voice was a low, rough purr; dangerous and low. "Aren't you?"

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	parisiansaint 2008-01-25 08:57 pm UTC (link)
	I couldn't tell you who he was." Jacinthe looked at him, slightly incredulous, fingertips blood red. "That makes me of little to no help. I cannot even tell you if he was here." It wasn't a lie. She couldn't. It would have been wrong. "I've been here all day and we had so many customers already. Can I help you any other way? Say no, say no. (Reply to this) (Parent) (Thread)

	wolfwork 2008-01-27 01:35 am UTC (link)
	"Not to me, Fraulein." He grinned. "A help to others, perhaps?" He leaned on the counter again. "Others who would have reason to run when a patrol merely asks to see their papers?" (Reply to this) (Parent) (Thread)

	parisiansaint 2008-01-29 04:01 am UTC (link)
	"I'm sorry, sir," She smiled at him in a confused manner, gripping her wrist with her hand and leaving bloody fingerprints on it before she thought to pull her hand away. "I don't know what you mean. Perhaps you could explain?" (Reply to this) (Parent)