[h1][b][i][color=39b54a][center]Felix Hausten[/center][/color][/i][/b][/h1]
[center][img]http://66.media.tumblr.com/04e4ee377a162567df4ec598c5494dd4/tumblr_inline_o8irfb3jTm1tae3h3_500.gif[/img][/center]
[center]Location: Boston Heights [/center]

The words were like music to the man;s ears. They were what he didn't know he needed, but right now he just let the feeling of success hit him like a bus. He diodn't now quite why he felt success. He felt like, he had control of the story now, well more control. COntrol to make sure it didn't get too anticlimactic or too predicatble. A perfect perch to shake things up. But still something wasn't clicking. Something was wrong.

He shrugged that thought off and observed his phone before smirking and nodding. He'd be in their pocket, but they'd also be in his strings. He wasn;t gonna be a goody two shoes for the FB fucking I. He had a high octane thriller to write. But for now, appearances had to be kept in check.

[color=39b54a]"Own personal Castle huh...I like the sound of that"[/color] He grinned, and glanced outside for a moment, back to Marc. [color=39b54a]"I'm sold...but you promise me you keep me up to date on this whole case, any slip ups and I'm out"[/color]