[b]Joseph Thawne
Tagged;; Ysabella Mei[/b]

As Joseph wandered aimlessly through the crowd of carnival-goers, his hands resting in the pockets of his pants, and his striking, crystal blue eyes gazing ahead of the men and women coolly, the man went over the events, so far, in his head;; something he often did to sort and organize his thoughts. He had entered the carnival, bought an arguably delicious stick of cotton candy, was forced by a boy to smash a faux High Striker machine, gave the same little boy a giant bear from the con-man that ran the faux High Striker machine, and then decided to walk through the festival until the damn thing ended. Jolene was most-likely scamming a bunch of no good thugs into doing her bidding, but regardless, as long as she didn't hurt any innocents, he didn't really care. The girl was old enough to make her own decisions, and although he would stop her from doing anything morally disgusting and/or bad, she was free to live her own life. He had things of his own to take care of. What were those things? Eh...he didn't know, honestly. He had quite a few jobs, and he spent a lot of his time beating up different gangs within the city, so that was a thing. 

As he walked passed two giggling school girls - both of whom blushed and giggled even more when his eyes glanced down at their forms - the sound of dashing footsteps caught his attention. A woman - sobbing, make-up smeared, and rough-looking - ran up to him, immediately lashing onto his right bicep. Joseph, on the other hand, didn't even appear startled, pausing in his walking to give the girl his attention, the tip of his hat shadowing his face. [i]"P-please, you have to help her. They came out of nowhere, I d-didn't know w-what to do."[/i] That immediately answered any doubts and questions. There was only one girl related to him, and only one girl that would call on him whenever they were in trouble, albeit stubbornly, and that was Jolene...his little sister. Joseph's face didn't change much out of it's stoic, disinterested frown, but you could tell that he was paying all of his attention to the woman. His eyes grew sharper, and almost into a glare, that would break even the toughest of men. His broad shoulders tensed, as he turned his body to the woman, taking his hands out of his pockets. Idly, he cracked the knuckles, the loud, almost brutal sound cracking through the crowd, making some men wince.

[b]"Where are they?"[/b] He asked shortly. His deep, low voice, despite holding no extreme emotion, had a razor-sharp edge to it, his crystal eyes practically melting into Ysabella's face.