I Fought The Law...

[Ramlock]

Cyril looked at the words with a certain sense of wonder when he saw the pen ink above the page, mostly at who would and could write such a thing on his paper. And why? It made no sense. Who was trying to contact him? Someone with access to his newspaper? That was strange, and a bit worrying. He wasn't dead, and the person didn't seem to be hostile, really, but who was it? His employers? The photographer? Eri? Strange...

Stepping outside, Cyril would look around for anyone, though he didn't really expect to find a person there. It was just... Strange. The paper was generally left right outside his office, where anyone could access it if they entered the building. It was unlikely the person had accessed it at any other point. To that effect, he would bring a piece of newspaper with him, writing "No" on it and setting it outside his office before returning inside if he was empty-handed. It was true, after all...

-------------------------------------

...But there was no one. Cyril now had a bigger problem. Who was watching him? Fortunately, the solution was simple: a day of leisure. Cyril would simply spend the day in and around his office, watching faces and trying to read anyone he saw. Chances were, someone was hiding in plain sight, male or female. With that in mind, Cyril would keep to old business, traveling around near the office and waiting...

[Nayt]

That day, no one showed up. It was late anyways; Cyril's treks around town following circles and dead trails wasted about three fourths of the day away. The sun was going down--no one was going to show up that day. It was just too late, at least for folk that had a mind for the nightlife of a town . . .

But, the next day . . .

"You're a hard man to track down."

Her voice was seductive--but coy. Perhaps moreso than it was remotely sensual. It was as if she was bragging at the same time she was stating a fact--but bragging about what? That Cyril was a hard man to track down? Or, rather, that he was hard to track down, and yet she still did?

Cyril was in office at the time when the coy voice of a young woman interrupted whatever thoughts he had the time--or, perhaps, any phone calls he might have had. Of course, without a doubt, it was a situation worth putting off a phone call, be that the case. The hair color of the woman standing in his doorway might well tip him off first and foremost. A person could always be called back. A chameleon couldn't always be located twice. If he was too busy, she could always not come back at another time.

She was just like the descriptions: a young Asian woman, about twenty five years old, who stood at about five feet and six inches tall without heals--a couple inches were added, and all the rumors were true: she did, in fact, dye her hair pink. It wasn't too bright, in fact it was a little dark, but it was distinctly pink. She wore a form fitting single colored dress--low and behold, dark pink just the same, a strapless dress which hugged her body straight down to her knees. Her heels were more like boots--much more practical than the alternative, and her hair was trimmed into a semi-short bob-cut, fairly popular in big cities like this.

The woman had a newspaper in hand. Without giving the private detective a chance to respond to her first statement, she asked, "Do you have a pen?"

A chameleon walked circles and hid from view in plain sight, always-- until it wanted to be seen . . .

[Ramlock]

"Hey, listen, I'll call you back. Something just came up."

Cyril would hang the phone back on its receiver, a smile crossing his face. All the leads and trails he'd been trying to follow to find this girl, and here she was, showing up at his office? And what a bombshell, too... No wonder Kiosna had tracked her here, and was so eager to find her... She was even better than the picture. And her voice and the simple fact that she had tracked him down, then come to see him herself... Beautiful...

"Yes, I do. Have a seat..."

Cyril would reach forward, picking up a pen and offering it to her, which would place Eri in front of a small chair in front of his desk. He was quite interested in having a sit-down conversation with the woman, even past the fact that he was supposed to find her for Kiosna. That job was something that would hold, particularly since he could talk to her without her disappearing at the moment. He was perfectly capable of hiding in plain sight, as well...

[Nayt]

At first, she didn't sit. Rather, Eri stood in front of Cyril's desk and kindly accepted the pen he offered her. Eri placed the newspaper down on Cyril's desk and bent over to lean on his desk. She stuck her rear end out int he process and leaned in almost parallel to the ground. The view didn't show much cleavage, as her dress covered everything between her chest and her knees, but gravity had a way of giving a man a treat to the eyes, even if it was ever so slight. Eri soon set the pen down and slid the paper forward to Cyril.

Eri had crossed out what Cyril had written-- that no on the page, and wrote something beneath of it, this time much easier to read than the last: Found you.

By the time he'd read it, Eri would be sitting in the chair in front of Cyril's desk, one leg crossed over the other, with a smile spread across her lips. Perhaps, at some point, a game had started. Neither knew they were playing the game, but it started, and it drove them. Perhaps Cyril didn't want to be found--perhaps he wanted to do the find, and perhaps Eri Tetsuken was just the same. And if at some point they had been partaking in an unspoken game of tag across the city, well, Eri had won.

[Ramlock]

Cyril couldn't really help his eyes when Eri bent over in front of him to collect the pen, but certainly wasn't one to complain. Eri was certainly cute enough that he didn't want to see her go. When he saw her note, though, he couldn't help but smile. She really had outdone him, and found him before he had gotten more than a whiff of her. And then, shown up straight on his doorstep...

Picking up another pen, he would write another note across the paper, before returning it to the desk, finished with it: Maybe I wanted to be found. The question was now, what was he going to do? He should honor his contract, certainly... What did Eri want from him, though? Cyril wasn't concerned about the niceties of Chicago politics (and the manner of Eri's dress making it impossible to carry a significant weapon was relieving), but it was still rare to talk to anyone who didn't want something...

"Should we worry about introductions?"

They certainly each knew who the other was...

[Nayt]

And just the same, Eri may well have wanted to be found after awhile, too . . . by Cyril--but, then again, nothing short of standing in plain sight might have given her away to the man. There were probably a dozen other leads and trails in the city that all lead in circles, and in no way connected to other circles, just the same as the last couple Cyril had gone through.

"Hmmmm . . ." Eri thought aloud--a hum, stylistic, more than likely intentional. A woman like her killed off all those unintended habits that might draw the wrong attention. Of course, this one might very well draw the attention she wanted. "Well Mr. Shariph, I guess that all depends on the kind of gentleman you are. Are you the kind of man to take a woman out for hours and treat her to all the niceties before going back to her place, or are you the kind of man who skips all the bullshit and cuts straight to what he wants?"

It wasn't a very direct answer--more or a less, a way of expressing that it didn't really matter to her either way, by use of a metaphor for dating. Eri was the type, though, who was more in charge when she was out with a man than the man she was with. Chances were, if she ever was out with someone who just cut the bullshit out of the equation, there was probably something she might want out of him--go out together, buy some liquor, go back to his place and liquor him up 'til he can barely stand. Play along for a little while; he'll pass out soon enough--then his whole apartment or house whatever he's got is free game, and she'd barely even need to get her hands dirty.

"Frankly," she paused as she leaned back to relax in the chair, "They both have their merits."

[Ramlock]

That was quite a philosophical question. Eri was similarly quick and to the point... Though Cyril wasn't in a particular hurry. After all, Eri had done most of the work involved in his finding her. Besides, she was an intriguing woman... He wouldn't mind getting to know her. He knew enough to not want to get inebriated around her, but a night wouldn't hurt anything.

"Well, Miss Tetsuken, I'm a man who likes to treat a lady right. Business can always come after pleasure, after all. In fact, I've pretty much finished here at the office..."

Cyril was indeed finished with work for the day, and she seemed to promise him at least the information of where she lived if he treated her right. And then there were the other benefits that could come from a night with Eri. He knew better than to trust her, but there was no reason he couldn't enjoy himself...

[Nayt]

In no way did she seem disappointed. From all the stories Cyril had heard by that point, he'd probably have enough evidence to suggest that it was probably the course of action. Eri had a love for the night life. All the stories pointed to her going out for hours on end, sometimes from sundown to sunup. But then again, with a girl as tough to locate as her, nightlife, while enjoyable, probably entailed a vast number of ulterior motives, and times where she stayed out from dusk 'til dawn were probably times she couldn't find the right sucker in a crowd.

Eri grinned a bit as she spoke, "Well . . . since someone tattled on me at my favorite joint, I'll just have to settle with something else."

Someone who also sat in the room with Eri. By the tone of her voice, it was likely that she knew exactly who ratted her out with a solid lie, and probably just as likely that she didn't fight it at all. After all, people who ran those sorts of establishments didn't put up with that kind of shit. If there was a problem was a person, they weren't coming back. It was just that simple. The legal issues were way too heavy to take any unnecessary risks for anyone, regardless of how good or frequent of a customer they were.

"I'm sure a man of your profession knows all the best places in town . . ."

[Ramlock]

Cyril smiled as well, remembering the incident in question. It was fine; Cyril didn't exactly want to hang around that crowd, anyway. Not that he wanted to hang with the high-class crowd, either- if alcohol at seedier establishments was distasteful, alcohol at higher-class establishments was dangerous. It carried the dangers of a lot of money and a lot of pride in the same place...

"Yes, I suppose you could say that. I'm not welcome at most of those places, but I'll see what I can do..."

Cyril would finish packing up his desk, standing and walking around the desk to the door. There, he would hold the door open for Eri to leave, grabbing his long coat from the nearby coat rack. He still had a pistol tucked beneath his arm, which Eri was likely enough to have noticed, despite the fact that he was still wearing his jacket. Cyril wasn't one to wander out into the dangerous Chicago night with a dangerous Chicago companion without a bit of protection...

[Nayt]

Eri waited patiently as Cyril got ready to leave. He had a weapon on him. That was commendable. Chicago was a dangerous place, and she might very well have been dangerous company. Just one, though? Sometimes, people carried more than one weapon on them. That was the good thing about slacks. They were usually a little baggy, making it impossible to tell if there was .22 caliber gun strapped to a man's calf.

Coincidentally, Eri, for all her allure, didn't carry a weapon on her--unless, of course, it was tucked up under the skirt of her dress, but with the way her skirt hugged her hips, it was unlikely that she was actually carrying a weapon, which could have been quite dangerous for a woman like her . . . After all, Chicago wasn't a safe place in the least. Without a doubt, there were people that were angry with Eri Tetsuken, and probably just as many who wanted her bad enough to commit a crime. But a woman whose actions were as deliberate as hers probably had a backup plan of some sort--or perhaps just a plan altogether. Whatever it was, a man might only be able to speculate.

Once Cyril was ready, she stood and took his arm with a smile. Where they were going to go was entirely up to him--Eri didn't mind. Mixing business with pleasure was just fine with her. After all, she enjoyed what she did. Even better was when a man could let business wait until later . . .

[Ramlock]

There were people who carried multiple weapons in Chicago, but Cyril rarely did. Carrying a weapon, or a larger weapon, broadcast certain things about you. A man could be confident and secure without a weapon. Just having a little bit of help was a good thing, though. Larger guns, such as the Thompson guns that seemed so prevalent around the city, were designed for killing, not for protection...

"Well, Miss Tetsuken, what exactly is it you like to do? I've gotten a lot of conflicting stories in the past few days..."

Eri was still mostly a mystery, and Cyril couldn't help but wonder. Her family was some sort of noble family in Japan, but she spent her time in seedy bars? Doing what, exactly? The bars in Chicago weren't exactly the places to find a noble, or a Japanese resident, for that matter. Cyril was curious what exactly she did, even as they started walking out of the building and towards a nearby park to start. After all, it was just the end of the working day: there was no sense in fighting the inevitable rush of people about to drink on their way home or whatever else they may be doing...

[Nayt]

A park didn't sound like a bad idea at all! At least, Eri didn't complain about it when it was clear where they were going; she didn't frown, either. She just kept smiling, just the same as she had when she was talking about going to a speakeasy or somewhere else to purchase illegal alcohol.

"Oh, you know . . ." Eri trailed off.

There really could have been hundreds of things, considering all the stories. Some people described her as neurotic and needy, while others, like Scott Thompson, called her an attention whore. A few others, though, had actually described her as silent, and preferred to keep to herself. More than likely, they were all ruses, designed to attract the attention of a certain crowd, all to her benefit.

"Oh, this and that . . ." Eri mused, "Like-- sewing. I take personal orders for custom outfits--I'm a seamstress and a tailor, you know? You'd be surprised at how easy it is to advertise in a place like, well, you know . . . --what about you? What is it you do, Mr. Shariph? Well, other than chase foreign girls around town . . ."

[Ramlock]

A seamstress? That was certainly something he didn't expect. Chicago women, he was used to dealing with. They had as many faces as they needed, and switched between them whenever it suited them. It was still strange to hear she was a seamstress, though. He had expected nothing like that, considering the situation. Or maybe she was toying with him...

"Whatever I can make a few dollars doing. Asking questions, taking pictures, that sort of thing... And on occasion, I'll work with radios..."

She had told him a hobby, it was only fair he share one of his own. Cyril worked somewhat with radios when he had spare time, despite their relative newness. The idea of being able to communicate straight through the air was still new, after all, and quite exotic. Marconi was quite a talented man to make such a device work...

"But my main job is like you said..."

[Nayt]

"Chasing exotic foreign girls?" she asked after his last statement--reiterating her previous remark about his occupation, and it somehow having to do with women like herself.

Once in the park, Eri instinctively found the nearest park bench. She liked to sit down and watch things. Exercising was fun, certainly-- how else would a woman like her stay in that kind of shape, if she didn't enjoy getting out and walking around? But that could very well have been a daytime activity. All the stories told about her usually had her sitting at a bar, anyways. As illegal as it was, she was still sitting down.

She waited for Cyril to sit next to her, folding one leg over the other as she did. The park was nice in the evening, there was no doubt about that. It certainly helped that Eri didn't necessarily require booze to have a good time. After all, that was more like a work utility-- a tool, per se.

"Must be an exciting job," she mused, "Does it pay well?"

[Ramlock]

"Whenever there are exotic foreign girls to chase..."

Cyril would sit down on the bench beside her, but not really turn his eyes on her. He could see pretty well from the corners of his eyes, enough to get a sense of how someone was moving, but he tended to look around a lot. It wasn't so much in an anxious way as... Perhaps, a detached way. Cyril tended to watch things as well, often with a camera. It was so much easier to see when you weren't wrapped up right in the middle of things.

"I earn enough to keep working and living, and enough to have some fun once in a while. I'm not a bigshot, but I never really wanted to be..."

Physically, Cyril was built in something of a strange way. His legs were relatively short, and his torso and arms were large. As a consequence, when he and practically anyone else was sitting down, whoever he was talking to inevitably had to look up to see him. It was something that tended to work to his advantage, but like many other things, Cyril chose not to press any advantage until it was appropriate.

"I would ask you what you do, but for two reasons, I won't. First, I wouldn't want it to get out that my job is easy. Second, I wouldn't want to make you lie to me..."

It would be nice if Cyril could pretend he had drawn Eri into meeting him with a deliberate purpose, but he couldn't really claim that. All he could do was try to keep her around...