[B]God hath given you one face, and you make yourself another.[/b]

[right][i]"You remember Mori-san? Who got fired six months ago?"

"Didn't he get hired by the, uh ... what was it called? The delivery company?"[/i][/right]
The milkshake was cool to the touch, her fingers carelessly wrapped around its circumference as she sipped away at it with a bright pink straw, its colour almost as intense as her shockingly bright mane. Here, hunched over the counter of a small diner and finishing off the remains of her morning meal, it was remarkably easy for her to listen in on the conversations of other customers. Her ears tended to pick up every detail with astonishing accuracy no matter how unmindful her eavesdropping may have been, and the words being exchanged by the pair of salarymen in the booth near the back of the venue ([i]beneath ceiling air vent[/i]) were no exception. They may have thought they were being quiet, but nothing they said had managed to escape her attention.

Nor did the awkward shuffling sounds of the teenage couple sitting closest to the entrance, clearly unsure of how to conduct a first date.

Nor the coughing of a mother with a pram who was clearly developing a cold from staying up too late to take care of her child.

Nor the mumbled, unconscious self-aggrandisements of an old man who had decided that the diner's sole toilet was a perfect place to take a nap.

If she were to wait a few minutes longer, she suspected she would be listening in on the cursing of a frustrated customer clearly wishing the (slightly premature) death of the toilet's occupant for stalling their stress relief.

[right][i]"Yeah, bloke got a quick turnaround. Thought he'd be scrambling around for longer."

"Hah, he got lucky there. But if someone like him could jump into a new job so quickly, maybe we have a chance too if stuff gets bad."[/i][/right]

Most of what she listened to, of course, was utterly uninteresting. She couldn't deny that everyone had a story to share, but her tastes were more tailored towards the works of the God of Novels or Arthur Conan Doyle. There was just an insurmountable distance between them, but she was still listening to them anyway. Even if she tried to ignore them, they were still far too audible to dismiss as background chatter.

Except, sometimes, there [i]could[/i] be something worthwhile.

[right][i]"Don't jump to conclusions there. He really isn't lucky. I hear he's been calling in sick a lot. Stress or something."

"And he hasn't been laid off?"

"Surprisingly forgiving bosses, I know. But I think the place's just bad. You know that some others there always feel drained, right?

"More tired than we usually get?"

"Definitely."[/i][/right]

'Something' being that.

The sound of milkshake being consumed gave way to air being sucked through a straw. She glanced down at the milkshake bottle in her hands with blood red eyes. It was empty. Not a single drop of liquid remained inside. There was a sudden pang of disappoint in her chest; it would have been more prudent for her to order a larger milkshake if she wanted it to last longer.

That was probably a benefit of hindsight.

[right][i]"You been calling around his place?"

"Yeah. Dropped by Kosho and everything. Must be a bug or something going around. That Fumihiro got hit with it."

"Guess we're lucky we're not him, eh?"

"Got that right!"[/i][/right]

She gave her thanks to the girl at the counter before standing up, grabbing her folded jacket as she did. The black garb soon found itself donned over her crimson button-up shirt in one smooth motion, and a second later she was already out the door, the empty milkshake bottle successfully thrown into the bin at the edge of the sidewalk. She basked in the morning sunlight for a brief second, before turning right, the pitter-patter of her feet joining the chorus that was the city's sounds as she began to make her way to her destination.

It was really convenient, being able to stumble onto something that seemed off so early in the day. It usually took a bit more searching to find trouble, discounting any night time outings. And the conversation between the salarymen was definitely a 'something'. She could feel it singing in her blood. This Fumihiro Mori man they had been talking about ... she was doubtful that he was being hit by some bug or sickness. It felt off to her.

The fact that there seemed to be a link to their current "case" was a clue in that regard.

Maybe she could be wrong, but that wasn't something she was going to entertain.

She looked up at a road sign. Kosho was right near that large park, so it wouldn't be too far of a walk.

Giving the place a look would confirm her suspicions.

But first-

She rummaged through her pockets. Nothing.

She needed to drop by an office supplies store.