[b][color=blueviolet][center][h3]ȤЄƝƖ ƓƛƬƛƘƖ[/h3]
Location: Bumfuck, USA  //  Interaction: [@BlackXIII], [@BenG85][/center][/color][/b]

	After opening her mouth, intent on answering the officer-or, [i]Deputy[/i], so fancy - of this backwater, the slim brunette watched the interaction between the two men, enjoying their contrast of awkward and slick city manners.  Arched eyebrow almost hitting her hairline at this point, Zeni sipped her coffee, thinking that this town was much weirder than even the artists' commune she'd lived next to in Boystown, Chicago.  Curfew?  Eyeing [i]The Suit[/i], as she'd dubbed the agent, she decided that the overly smooth quality of his personality did not... [b]suit[/b]... the town.  He seemed out of place.  

	She probably shouldn't find her own puns funny.  Probably. 

	Shaking herself out of her own amusing reverie, she realized the Agent had asked her a question, responding to it with a brief nod and a soft, "Ms. Gataki".  Her grandmother would quite literally slap her silly if she allowed some Suit with out of date haircut call her by her first name.  Yiayia was odd like that sometimes.  She tugged self consciously at the collar of her giant black cardigan, glancing down to make sure the scars were fully covered.  Something else occurred to her, head snapping up so her dark eyes met his directly.

	"Speaking of [i]local [/i]authorities, since when does the Bureau build field offices in extremely remote locations with little to nothing going on in the way of criminal activity?  I find that much more interesting than my accommodations for the night."

	Hearing the shuffle of feet, Zeni then remembered the homeless neckbeard, turning to him briefly and taking in the state of his bloodshot eyes.  "I don't carry cash, sorry."  Returning to her conversation with The Sui-err, Agent Brand, she awaited his response with a tilt of a smile.