Who: Arthur Rollins & Lane Smith When: Monday, May 30th Where: Outside the Agency building in London What: Lane was looking for some answers, but found something far better. Warnings: TBA; likely none!
Regan was gone.
At first, Lane had held out hope that she'd be coming back, that something had simply come up at work and she'd gone into hiding for a little bit until things calmed down. Then, when no one at the Rat knew anything, he'd thought maybe it had to do with that secret she was keeping, that she was off on some sort of special job for them and she'd decided she couldn't tell him for his own protection. He just had to sit tight and wait for her, and then he could tell her how stupid it was that she'd thought that not telling him would be safer than making him worry.
Even that could only last for so long, until rent was due and he couldn't pay it by himself and it was back to the streets, and if Regan was coming back she would have made sure to set things up so the rent would be paid. It was Ting-yu who had finally said what they'd both been thinking, She's left us, just like everyone else.
It was for Ting-yu that he was looking for some answers about what had happened - some proof that Regan hadn't left because she wanted to, that something was wrong. He'd gone to the bobbies first, but they hadn't cared. Just one more whore off the streets, he knew they were thinking it. He wasn't sure why he'd even bothered with them, in the first place, not like they'd ever done him good before. Part of his and Regan's effort to clean up, he supposed, not that it mattered anymore when he was back on the streets.
Going to the Agency had been an afterthought, something (anything) to help with Ting-yu's horrible sadness. He was older, he could deal with being left, but she was little and it still bothered her, and some stupid part of him that still trusted Regan thought that she couldn't have just left them, that she wouldn't have. Maybe they'd know at the Agency, whether or not something had happened to her. They were supposed to keep track, weren't they? They'd known when he got Ting, they might have some idea.
He could have gone in, he supposed, instead of sitting outside the building with his knees drawn up to his chest, a worn coat wrapped snugly around him in spite of the warm weather. It was strange to think of setting foot in a building like that, though, something so official. He'd avoided it most of his life, and surely someone would come out soon. It was nearing evening, after all, and they had to go home sometime.