[center][h1]August Dupin[/h1][/center]
[center]Physical State: Tense.
Mental State: Calming down[/center]

[u]“I’m sorry, I…I wasn’t paying attention. I hope I didn’t ruin your…”[/u] The man who'd bumped into August paused for the briefest of moments as his eyes made contact with one of the various horrifying photographs strewn about in the snow-it was an act August took note of. [u]“…photographs…”[/u] 

Following the strangers gaze August's eyes fell upon a rather well framed photograph that was the only publicly released picture of one of the many gruesome suicides around town and its accompanying story. August immediately recognized the framed moment in time that held this strangers gaze.

Suicide wasn't an unknown to August at this point in his life; quite the contrary in fact as he'd seen the vile act enough times to form some basic things to look for when dealing with the subject. Needless to say in Augusts' vast experience people tended to choose what they believed to be the least painful way out when taking their own lives-hell, even those with a guilty conscience often opted for a quick bullet to the head or the quite release that certain narcotics often brought. It was for that very reason the Killigan suicide had so clearly stuck in his head and why he recognized it at a mere glance: afterall crushing yourself to death beneath a slow hydraulic lift was pretty high up there on the [i]“painful ways to die”[/i] list, something that made August question the whole thing entirely. 

Seemingly lost in thought the rude stranger before him didn't even respond until August prodded him with another similar question [i]“Hey, I asked you a question. Do I know you?” [/i]

Finally the man piped up while simultaneously scrambling to help August pick up all the scattered evidence. The way he spoke made August take it as a question initialy. 

[u]“August Dupin?”[/u]

The man went on speaking, his voice much more assuring in a way that made August genuinely believe him for the moment.

[u]“I do, yes, when I think about it. It’s been years, but I do remember having met you. France, during the war, right? You probably don’t remember me, I looked different back then, it’s funny how war changes you.”[/u] [i]So that explained it[/i] August found himself thinking. Now knowing what to look for August quickly decided that the man did indeed carry himself with the tell tale signs of a war veteran much like August himself did. He was actually surprised he hadn't noticed it right off the bat. Nodding in silent agreement while his eyes clearly tried to place the face-even though he couldn't remember specifics of the man currently talking to him he was also more than willing to believe that somewhere among the sea of faces he had met during the Great War there had to have been one or two that completely escaped his memory. 

[u]“It’s been long since that though. I take it you’re a reporter, since you have the photograph of a suicide victim? I knew him, actually, it wasn’t a grand time for me back then. So what are you doing with the picture, is there something new the newspaper has discovered?”[/u] 

Quick to chase a lead and fall into a given roll August nodded his head in agreement. All the momentary anger from before having seemingly vanished from equal parts respect and the sudden need to make the man like him. [i]“Quite astute of you, Jeremy was it?”[/i] The name rolled off his tongue before August even realized he had no real way of knowing that was in fact his name. He simply went on speaking however. Somehow he was sure of his words. [i]“I am in fact a reporter for the Arkham Herald.”[/i] He lied through a smile, repeating the name of the paper delivered to his rented room each morning. [i]“And if I'm being completely honest with you Jeremy, soldier to soldier,"[/i] He gave the man a wink [i]"the paper isn't necessarily releasing any new information as mutch as we are chasing down leads that the unfortunate...events...that befell Mr. Killigan may have infact been tied to a bigger picture of sorts. I'm just doing my best to connect some dots at the moment, hence this stack.”[/i] He slapped the now fully collected photographs against his free hand to signify that he was talking about them. [i]“In fact if you have the free time, I would love to ask you some questions? Perhaps over a cup of coffee? Afterall, you never know where what random factoid you could provide might lead.”[/i]