Zev Kaufmann || The Big Bad Wolf (allthebetter) wrote in thereincarnates, @ 2011-04-06 19:08:00 |
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Entry tags: | zev kaufmann |
WHO: Zev Kaufmann, along with a few glimpses of Roxanne Overby
WHAT: Stalking: just another service provided by your friendly neighborhood Big Bad Wolf
WHEN: Some indeterminate time this week.
WHERE: Manchester, England
WARNINGS: Oh, the usual things with Zev. Creeping, fantasizing, and musing.
Manchester, if anyone asked, was far from out of his way.
Zev’s charges were scattered across the world and his friends similarly. Hopping through the MTN to Manchester, dallying around there, before heading on to a new reincarnate in Oslo was reasonable. Besides, as any good traveller would tell you, lunch there was unlikely to be easy to procure. Zev’s Norwegian was as good as his Spanish or Ancient Greek - non-existent. Grabbing a basket of fish and chips at a stand he knew and knew well was only logical. After all, he made these diversions often. No, he’d laugh off to anyone who would have the foolishness to press it. The only time he made side trips was to check on his reincarnates or friends. Exchanging recommendations with fellow caretakers or the Agency members who were kept on the go - one was inclined to make a reincarnate-friendly directory. If one truly cared.
It was an alibi as good as any, allowing for any sort of wandering. Greasy fried food, wrapped in wax paper printed to look like newspapers, was one of those things if eaten sitting down would disagree with you. Might as well start on working off those calories. Of course - of course, it didn’t matter where. Walking past the solid, gray-ish building that one of his charges would currently be exiting if his watch - intelligent enough to keep up with his endless time changes - was right. One could only say his expression was of surprise, before slipping off to the side, tucked away by trees. When he circled about the building, steps as aimless as before, the basket was missing - slipped into a trash can, littered with gum and cigarette stubs. Should that be questioned well - easy. He lost his appetite. He could even blame the onslaught of teenagers, rushing from their cage.
Of course, with no one around his smile was an easy lie to spot. Fortunately, as he pulled back to the opposite side of the street, tucking his jacket closer about him, he didn’t have that to worry about. Just out of sight, though his gaze reached those who headed out. Bodies large, bodies small - they formed one mass that perhaps, if less practised - not that he’d done this before of course - couldn’t have distinguished them. A face here and there was familiar though, causing his lying smile to change. It shifted, downwards. No matter what excuse he had - he expected a certain round, young face with too-light hair about it to be about them. He knelt down, fiddling with the lace of the shoes he’d only tied before boarding the MTN. Glancing up every few seconds, it allowed for more time - out of the way as people passed. Where was she?
Five minutes of unfamiliar shoes and even less familiar faces was all he could stand. Up and moving, he wove through the students - muttering apologies not-meant in his best Irish accent. Head down, save for occasional glances up, he moved towards the gate - cursing that anyone, anyone else could have gone and messed with her before he could-
-and there, with friends, he presumed, that he didn’t recognize. He retreated, about the corner and looking for the nearest bench. There he waited, hands on knees, heart pounding. She was fine. Just late. And with the wrong people. Not dead or kidnapped or...He ground his teeth. No. He looked ahead, waiting for her to skip onto the bus, hanging on to whatever friend she’d dallied with and waited till the doors closed before he stood, moving away.
One day, this could be an actual worry. But until it was his turn - when he could be the cause of delays and worries and horrific truths which ended with a broken, damaged nitwit who’d believed him all along then- well. He could and would wait. As he had, every time he had made excuses so far.
A satisfied smirk settled on his face and he moved on towards his next stop. If anyone asked, it was for a simple, surely innocent reason - he was just thinking of the next time a delightful meal would bring him into Manchester.