Desmond had been lucky, really, to secure a place in the boarding house that he had. Not only was it in a central-enough location among Caledon's many districts, but Ms. O'Hara's services were impeccable, and her rooms were in high demand. The only reason he [i]had[/i] gotten the room was because he and the previous tenant had become quite closely acquainted over a few drinks - the man, was celebrating the acquisition of a new job as a clerk for a prominent company in another city. They spent the night drinking and talking, and by the end of it, the man had proclaimed to Desmond that he was his very best friend, and that since he would no longer be in town, that he would vouch to the landlady for Desmond.

It was lucky, really, that the man had kept his promise. 

It was also lucky that the lady of the house was the very picture of discretion - if her tenants wanted their privacy, or if they came and went at odd hours, she never asked questions, only reminded them that meals were served at seven, one and seven o'clock, and to be quiet after eleven. Desmond, whose [i]current[/i] job prospects meant late nights and early mornings, following up on leads, well... he appreciated that.

Tonight, though, it was just him and Ms. O'Hara, and it was well past suppertime. The older woman - a 'loveable spinster', she liked to say - was packing leftovers up into tins, and Desmond, in a rare mood for company, was sat at the table, mostly scrawling nonsense into his notebook at the dining table. It was a comfortable silence, and one he was loathe to break, but, well. There were questions on his mind. He coughed politely, and waited. She kept at her work for a few moments, before glancing in his direction. Desmond took that as leave to speak.

"So where are my neighbours this evening, do you think?"

Ms. O'Hara considered for a moment. "Well, at least one or both of Tanner or Cooper has gone out for a drink. And I think young Leander has a new sweetheart she’s been seeing."

Desmond nodded - that all made sense, from what he knew of the other tenants. "And Marston?"

She sniffed, giving him a look. "I wouldn’t rightly know. He enjoys his privacy. Much like you enjoy yours."

He shrugged back. "I merely found myself curious. I don’t see them much, and I find myself perhaps in need of friends."

"What you need, Desmond," Ms. O’Hara chided gently, "Is a [i]job.[/i] Jobs come with colleagues, and colleagues can [i]become[/i] friends."

He laughed softly. "You have no idea what journalists are like, do you?"

She turned, waving a spoon in his direction. "I know that the one living in my house has been respectful and kind, and that he's got a mouth to him when he wants to. That's enough for me."

Again, Desmond laughed. "Well, if you can send him my way, it sounds like he and I would get along swell."

Ms. O'Hara shook her head, jokingly exasperated, then, seemingly struck by an idea, reached over and grabbed the newspaper from the stack of evening post, and then tossed it in Desmond’s direction. He stared at it for a few moments.

"The Caledon Times? I’ve already tried them."

She shook her head again, “No, look at the headline.”

He did, and then he read some of the article itself. Things happening in the sewers... orcish involvement... and the 'trusty constabulary', of course...

"You need a story, right?" She waved her spoon again. "There you go."

Desmond considered it for a moment. This [i]did[/i] have potential... and if it was hot off the press... 

He stood, folding the newspaper under his arm. "Best to strike while the iron's hot, then. You'll be alright on your own tonight?"

Ms. O'Hara blinked in surprise. "I'm hardly a fragile flower that wilts without company, but - Desmond, is now really the time? It's after dark!"

He flashed a grin. "If I wait, someone else could get the scoop before I do. And believe me, sometimes the night shows what daylight hides."

With that, he made a quick stop in his room to grab his coat and a few essentials - and then he was off, headed in the direction of his new quarry.