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[h1][b][i][color=39b54a][center]Felix Hausten[/center][/color][/i][/b][/h1]

[center]Location: The Block - Apartment 3B[/center]

America. How long had this place existed? How long had this land of opportunity and glory existed? But how long had this place been filled with such juicy and rotten stories! These were the thoughts Felix had always thought about the country many detested but many also liked. Who cared about the country? What he cared about was the stories that lay within. The gang rivalries, the stories of lovers intertwined in some sort of tragic adventure that ends in a truly dramatic twist. Exploring these real life goings on had always appealed to Felix.

And that appeal had reached a peak when he had heard about the death of Peyton Glencross. It was labelled a suicide, and from what he had heard around various forums and links he had in America, it was a very suspicious suicide. What better timing! The current writers block he was facing was needing an end, inspiration was required. And in swoops this little treasure of Peyton's suicide. What better inspiration than a seemingly suspicious suicide. He'd found himself drawn to this. Like a moth to a lamp.

Everything was in order. He'd arrived at the airport, come out of the private plane his father's friend had let him use and took his belongings throwing them in the back of the movers truck. Before long he was at the block, jumping from the vehicle and admiring it with a grin. During the ride he'd heard stories. Oh such wonderful stories. Another suicide, closely tied to that of Peyton, a suicide, they were sisters. These thoughts raced through his mind as he walked to the apartment he had been given, taking everything with him.

On his last trip from the moving truck to the apartment he let out a giddy giggle, spreading his arms out in glee before, letting out a loud chuckle before making his way to his new apartment, placing his stuff carefully around the place, admiring the belongings of his new room mate laying around. He never had a room mate and perhaps it would also be a good inspiration for what he was calling "American Poison". An interesting title he was sure would catch on.

He smiled and went back downstairs, looking from the door to the building to the police tape, staring in astonishment. [color=39b54a]"My timing is impeccable as always, one day sooner and I would've been a suspect" [/color] He smirked, looking around as he shifted the leather jacket onto his body.