The bell chimed once more, signalling a new customer, as a man entered the diner, black sunglasses framing his face and hiding his eyes. His form was covered in a black suit, dressed as finely as he could despite the heat of the day. In his right hand, a matching black briefcase was held tightly, a small slip of paper taking up his left hand as he gazed down at it. What could be seen, though, showed tanned skin from much time spent out in the sun.

A young woman came up to him, a drawl to her voice. She clearly didn't like being at the diner. Given the wages, the man couldn't blame her. “Hello, sir. Is it just you today?” she asked politely, reaching for a menu.

The man shook his head, a small smile appearing on his face. “I'm meeting someone,” he responded in a light hearted voice. Despite the seriousness of his dress, he seemed like he couldn't have been older than his early twenties. Walking past her, he made his way to a table where a lone boy sat.

Seeing his target, he placed down the slip of paper on the table, revealing it to the boy. It was a picture of the young boy in question. “You must be Gilbert Solberg,” he stated, no question in his voice. “My name is Enrique. I had need to speak to you if I could have but a moment of your time.”

~ ~ ~

A sigh escaped the lips of the young blond as he leaned against the hood of the black sedan, staring up at the apartments he had been instructed to. In his hand, a picture was held, studying the girl in the photo.

Teres Wratherton. It had been annoying to search the girl out, but orders were orders. He was sure this would be less eventful than his second stop.

He ran a hand through his sandy blond hair, grown out to his shoulders. Dark shades obscured his emerald green eyes, but it did wonders for framing him in an ominous light, pale against the black suit he was instructed to wear. It was such an annoying process. Why couldn't the boss have gotten someone else to do this? Well, whatever. At least she wasn't hard on the eyes. That was...something, he supposed. Not enough to appreciate this damn job, but something.

Slipping the photo into his breast pocket, he crossed his arms, staring up towards the room number that he had been told she remained at. With any luck, this wouldn't take too much convincing and he could be on his way.