Narrative: Martinique Jason Who: Martinique What: Personal business When: September 28th Where: London
She hadn't been home for years. She'd left and never expected to come back. Technically that was right. The house she was parked and cloaked in front of wasn't actually her childhood home. It was a building her mother was currently playing house in with some man who'd proposed to her.
So when she'd heard that tidbit she couldn't help but check it out. She was reading through a background check, and it was an incredibly short one at that. It wasn't short because it was sketchy. It was short because it was just that fucking boring.
That was when someone parked in front and got out of the car holding a package of food. On impulse Martinique got out of the car, stuffed some cash in the guys pocket and sent him on his way. With the food she knocked on the door. A man in his early sixties answered the door.
"That'll be 18 pounds even." The illusion said. She took the money and gave him the package of food.
"Is that the food honey?"
She knew when she knocked on the door there was a fifty/fifty chance her mother would open the door. She seemed happy enough, but her mother had always been kind of a happy kind of person.