[hr][center][color=slategray][b][h1]Harry Kingsfield[/h1]
[IMG]http://www.oystermag.com/sites/default/files/imagecache/article-image-650x580/images/dale-cooper-i-only-have-time.png[/IMG]
Location:[/b][/color] Halsey's shop[/center][hr][hr]
	Harry wasn't sure what to make of that look that Halsey had given him. Did she think that it was a weird question? Well it kind of was, but that wasn't quite a "What did you just ask me" look. Perhaps there was something related to all this that she didn't want to share. Harry made a mental note to keep a lookout for any cues that she might be trying to conceal any pertinent information. They could be verbal, but they'd most likely be a bodily action. A sudden shift away in the gaze, a lowering of the head, closing off of the body, something like that.

	[color=slategray]"Coffee,"[/color] he responded to Halsey's invitation to have some sort of beverage during their chat. He'd already had a cup earlier at the B&B, but really that was nothing compared to how much of the stuff he could drink. But she also confused him by referring to him as one of the "young people." He had stopped thinking of himself as that awhile back. He was a bit into his thirties at this point, and he had long since lost touch with what teenagers these days thought was "rad" or "hip." Perhaps in comparison to Ms. Halsey he could be considered "young," but that wasn't a really good metric for age, especially once you started getting advanced in years. Just like how it wasn't a good idea to use yourself as a meter stick for what was short if you were especially tall or especially short.

	[color=slategray]"How about we begin with the earliest you can go,"[/color] Harry said as he pulled out his notebook and pen, opening the former to a clean page. He had a feeling he'd have a lot to record. [color=slategray]"Like a time period around the colonial era, when Red Lake would have first been founded. Also, don't be afraid to leave in any supernatural rumors or stories. Those as well could potentially be related to the disappearance of Ms. Walker."[/color] The private investigator walked over to one of the seats by the coffee table and sat down, crossing his injured leg over the healthy one, pen at the ready to begin scrawling down anything that caught his attention.