[center][img]http://fontmeme.com/newcreate.php?text=Suspect%201&name=BlackCasper.ttf&size=15&style_color=A1A1A1[/img][/center] [indent][color=00aeef]I should probably explain why I've been quiet recently. I got an email about... you know those kidnappings in Kingston? Where I live? Yeah. They think I did it. No, I'm not kidding. I found out -[/color] Backspace Backspace Backspace Backspace Delete[/indent] No. [i]That[/i] was a stupid idea. He gently closed the screen of his netbook and began to drum his fingers on it, the metallic plastic sounding brittle on each tap. He checked his watch. About time. He had places to be, apparently. Stowing his laptop carefully in its case, he swung the strap over his shoulder and swiped his oversized plastic cup of chilled coffee, cream, milk and a foolish quantity of chocolate syrups. Expensive, yes - more than he should really make money for, but, still. He took a swig, eyes gently frowing behind the huge swirl of cream obscuring his face. "Going so soon?" The barista, a mousy, if forthright, woman in her thirties called to him. She was used to him working in the coffee shop all day; he was usually the only customer, which was, of course, precisely why he went. It wasn't for the décor, paint peeling from the walls and a once-ironic plastic flamingo that had by now abandoned all hopes of remaining pink. It wasn't even for the coffee, because he knew for a fact that it was mostly cream. He took another thick slurp. "Yeah. I've got a, uh, meeting." "A meeting, huh?" She sort of winked at him, a shudder of her whole body rather than a precise movement of the eye. She obviously didn't think he had a meeting - of the 'official' variety, anyway. That was fine. She could think what she wanted to think. [hr] The coffee was almost dead by now. Just a few smudges of chocolatey goo and crushed ice dregs were to its name. Still, as he approached the police station, a fat, grey blot on the landscape, he subconsciously bit the straw and inhaled tensely through it, gently regulating his own breathing. There was somebody there, waiting. The trench coat gave him away instantly. This was the guy he was apparently supposed to meet.