[center][img]https://i.imgur.com/vdDX5gd.png[/img][/center] [color=mediumspringgreen]“So we’re supposed to be looking for someone by the name of....what now?[/color] [color=mediumspringgreen]Adolow?”[/color] Eris asked, their arms behind their head. Roland and Phoenix had insisted on stopping for a break on the investigation, so they chose a small, quaint dessert shop. Eris propped their feet up on the table, much to Roland’s dismay who gently pushed them off the table. “Yes. I’ve been trying to find out more on this Jerome Adolow, but so far no luck. We’ll just have to keep searching. In the meantime…” Roland leaned forward. “You two are going to have to question Charlton more about Eric Garland, and that...room.” Eris nodded, turning to where Charlton was standing by the checkout counter, presumably waiting for a receipt. [color=mediumspringgreen]“I feel I should talk to him about it.[/color] [color=mediumspringgreen]I mean, we usually talk about stuff like this so…”[/color] Eris said, quietly. [color=maroon]“I feel that is for the best as well.”[/color] Phoenix spoke, his hands in his lap. [color=maroon]“I...neither of us know Charlton very well, Roland.”[/color] Roland flinched, but nodded. “Yeah, you’re right.” He cleared his throat. Charlton walked back to the table, setting down a cup of steaming tea, his face a dower mask. Charlton looked at them all, somewhat more uncomfortable with their silence. “So..what next?” He asked. Roland quickly explained that he would be at one of the local stations to set up a little office of his own until they can go back to Georgia, and that Phoenix and Eris would ask him more about Eric. Charlton shifted in his chair when he heard Eric’s name, but soon straightened his posture. “Yes. Of course.” Roland nodded to all of them, and then got up to leave. Phoenix watched him go, a troubled look in his eyes [color=maroon]“Uh..I will go and...do more research on Jerome Adolow, like Roland is.”[/color] He announced to the two of them, and then he too followed suit and walked out of the door, leaving Charlton and Eris alone. Eris turned to look at Charlton, who seemed to not even be able to look them in the eye. [color=mediumspringgreen]“Charlton-”[/color] “Eris, there’s too much history. Too many things that have happened in the past, I don’t think I could unpack all of that at once.” He whispered. Eris heard him perfectly though, and raised a hand on comfort. [color=mediumspringgreen]“Hey it’s fine.[/color] [color=mediumspringgreen]We can work our way up.[/color] [color=mediumspringgreen]How about you start somewhere easy, like how you and Eric met?”[/color] Eris suggested lightly. Charlton laughed bitterly. “That is the hardest story to tell, because it is the start of everything.” Eris looked down, not sure what to say to that, but then Charlton continued. “I fear I don’t have a choice anymore, Eris. I’m going to start with someone else. He was very close to me, though it wasn’t always like that…” ………………………………….. [i] The wind was a nuisance that night, it was so terrible that it had ripped Charlton’s winter scarf down the middle, fraying it like an old flag on a pole. He could do nothing against the buffeting air hitting him from all sides but brace his shoulders and take the brunt of its power. I can’t believe the weather here, He thought bitterly. He was a young, 17 year old boy, still looking for work in the middle of Canton, Georgia and he was experiencing some of the worst that nature had to offer. The sidewalk he stood on was making his feet numb with how long he had been standing there, waiting for the doors to the old record shop to open. “Can I help you with something? This is my shop.” He turned around meeting strange, silver eyes. The boy was short, slightly stocky but only a little. He had very light, blonde hair that was neatly combed and cut. The stranger stared at Charlton, questioningly. “Oh. I came about the job opportunity. I saw your ad in the paper.” He answered. “You need someone to watch your records, right?” Charlton thought the boy looked rather young to own any kind of shop, but judging by the expensive crest on his shirt, he knew age had nothing on money. “Yes I do.” The stranger said. He looked Charlton up and down, probably judging if he could do anything relating to record keeping. “You don’t seem like the type who likes records.” He said. Charlton cocked his head, confused. The wind had calmed down by now, and the boy had decided to unlock the doors to the small store front. “What do you mean by that? I know plenty about records.” Charlton said. The boy scoffed. “Sure you do. With those kinds of clothes? Are you kidding me?” He chuckled, patronizingly. “But it’s fine. I am hiring after all, and I guess someone like you can think of this as a money grab, right?” He smiled at Charlton. Charlton just met his amused glint with level, impassive eyes. “Do I get the job?” Charlton asked. The boy laughed. “Of course! The jobs yours. You just have to prove yourself now. Paychecks start rolling in around the fifth, make sure you’re here everyday for the next month and a half.” He said. “What’s your name anyways? I probably won’t remember but-” “It’s Charlton. Charlton Gaslowe. And I’ll make you remember it.” The boy smiled, softer this time. “Thaddeus Goodoire. It’s a pleasure.” Charlton nodded at Thaddeus, who in turn just smirked. Charlton looked around the small store, eyeing the darkened interior. Boxes were piled high in the corner, and Charlton could only guess that they were filled with records of every shape and size. He moved to one pile in the corner, and Thaddeus left him alone for the evening. As the weeks dragged on into a full month, Charlton saw Thaddeus everyday after that, and their relationship was still strained with Thaddeus essentially teasing and making light of Charlton’s poverty stricken life. One day in particular, Charlton sat at the counter, now cleaned off and clear of any stray records or vinyls laying around, when Thaddeus came into the shop. He was wearing expensive clothing, as usual, and he also seemed to be in a sour mood. Charlton spotted a dark smudge of something on his shirt, and judging by the look he had on his face, it wasn’t anything nice. “What’s got you in such a bad?” He asked Thaddeus. Grumbling, and swiping at the stain on his shirt, he muttered “Some brat at the coffee shop spilled coffee all over my shirt when she handed me my order.” He stalked over to the counter. “You probably wouldn’t even know how much it’s gonna cost to get this stain out.” Charlton was used to the jabs at his money, so he just responded with a weak shrug. “I probably don’t. But I can guess way more than what’s necessary.” He said. Thaddeus scoffed. “Are you kidding? This shirt is satin, it requires special care.” He leaned on the counter, Charlton scowled slightly at his elbows on the polished wood. “It’ll cost at least 100,000 to clean and press. And that includes the cute little bag they’ll put it in.” Charlton laughed, and Thaddeus glared at him. “What are you laughing at?” “You. You’re wasting your money for something so small.” He said, smirking. “You’ve never even seen satin unless it were on curtains in a store. How would you even know how to clean it, huh?” Thaddeus pouted. “Are you implying that you know more than me about things like this?” “Yeah, basically.” He chuckled. Thaddeus glared at him, before smirking in turn. “Fine then, since you know so much about clothes this rich, you can do my laundry. How’s that sound?” He asked. “Nope. I refuse. Go ahead and blow 100 grand on your shirt.” Thaddeus laughed, lowly. “Oh no. It’s final. You can start with this shirt. I’m going home now, and when I come back I’ll have all of my laundry ready for washing.” “There isn’t even a place to wash clothes here.” “You can do it at your house, can’t you?” “No I can’t, I have other things to do, you know.” “What happened, just a moment ago you were ready to lecture me on my own clothing.” “I wasn’t lecturing you on any-” The door to the shop opened, the tiny bell sounded announcing someone’s entrance. In stepped another young man, this one with equally immaculate blonde, combed hair. “Thaddeus? Is this the dump you were talking about earlier?” He said, walking in. “Eric, nice of you to finally drop by after all these weeks. I finally found someone to look after it for me.” Thaddeus gestured toward Charlton, who in turned nodded at him. Eric smiled at him, extending a hand. “Eric Garland, nice to meet you.”[/i] …………………………………………………… [color=thistle]Prepare for a little short story with Charlton for the next few posts![/color] [hider=To the Halftime show we deserved, but didn't get][url]https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=k9iYm9PEAHg[/url][/hider]