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[img]https://i.postimg.cc/L5r26P82/Star-Fox-Final.png[/img]

[color=5edaf6]Level:[/color] 5 (45 -> 47/50)
[color=5edaf6]Location:[/color] Sandswept Sky - Al Mamoon
[color=5edaf6]Word Count:[/color] 975 (+2 EXP)
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The point wasn’t lost on Fox. He knew the towering detective had been keeping a loose tail on him. He wasn’t exactly trying to hide the fact, even if a man of his size and mass with built-in noise makers was somehow capable of doing so. Whether he trailed him to act as contingent backup or out of underlying suspicion was up to him, but either would be understandable. Even if they meant well, a seasoned investigator worth his salt couldn’t rightly be expected to fully trust some ragtags he just met.

If anything could be said for sure about him, it’s that he better knew how to play the field--and more--for what he needed. It didn’t take Band long to post up outside of a heavily trafficked locale to put his instruments to good use. It took Fox a second from the initial twitch of his ears registering jazz tones to realize what the Big man was doing. In applying his unique talents to create a more comfortable, inviting, and perhaps disarming atmosphere, he made for himself a perfect cover from which to observe the crowd as patrons and passersby came and went. Fox respected the idea such that he almost wanted to drop a tip in his hat if not for lacking in physical (or presently any) currency to do so. At any rate he had more important things to think about; namely taking advantage of the distraction provided to slip off into the cracks in the scene, and looking for anyone else who would be doing the same.

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Alas, after nearly an hour of searching for conspicuous oddities among the bustle, he came up cold and dry, figuratively speaking. He ended up ducking off into a shaded alley to find a minute of respite from the midday desert heat in the midst of his thus far fruitless search for anything at all. The boredom of it was starting to get to him more than anything else (as tended to be the case), as he was left with a moment to consider what he had been doing wrong, the first and most obvious thing being working out of his element in general. Matters of the covert and any requiring greater discretion or a more discerning eye weren’t exactly his forte, as one who seldom needed to hunt down a target.

Perhaps his newest acquaintance with lifelong experience in the criminal could provide his particular insights on the case. Fox might have had a mind to contact him and ask if he only knew how to reach him. In any case, he had a feeling they wouldn’t be seeing him again until later in the day, closer to (or at) night. Hopefully, by then, he will have at least found out more than them.

Until then, he had naught else he could do but retrace his steps and reconsider his approach. It occurred to him on the trek back to the bar where he left Band that he may have stood out a little too much to anyone looking back, who didn’t want to be found. Perhaps deviating from the scene rather than immersing himself in it was the wrong move; that he was checking the wrong places in the wrong way. He was now realising that whoever he was looking for could (and may very well) have just as easily blended into the setting when given the opportunity. It was a bit late for it now, but setting aside a moment to relax--or at least appearing to--may better benefit his end of the investigation than a dedicated (ergo [i]visible[/i]) effort. At that, he actually find a restful moment of peace by accident in [i]pretending[/i] to try.

It seemed that moment would come slightly later, for when he made it back to the block where the Hound Pits was located, He found empty space formerly occupied by Big Band when last he saw him. Further inspection confirmed that he wasn’t inside the establishment either. A quick ask to an attentive patron/staff about the whereabouts of the one visitor they couldn’t miss would lead him vaguely in the direction he had taken off in, whereupon he happened upon the scene of a thwarted crime, thanks to Band himself, as he found out. With a small sum of convincing, Hunnigan gave him the briefest rundown of what had taken place mostly in her fortuitous absence, and pointed him in the proper direction where he could find the detective to reconvene. He thanked the office attendant for the information (what little she could assuredly provide) and went on his way.

Within the cool, misty cafe he would find not only Big Band, but the better share of the rest of the crew as well. Thus came that moment of relaxation as he joined them, pulling up a seat next to the detective. He would mildly regret reintroducing his now mist-moistened fur to the desert sun to suffer the humidity later, but it couldn’t be helped. Having grown up on [url=https://starfox.fandom.com/wiki/Papetoon]an arid, desolate desert planet[/url], and been consistently underdressed (even [url=https://static.wikia.nocookie.net/starfox/images/3/30/Fox_on_Ice_Mountain.jpg/revision/latest?cb=20120924183434]sleeveless[/url]) in the snow, he was never one to be openly bothered by the elements.

[color=5edaf6]“I’d ask if you found anything on your end, but… I think I’ve already seen it,”[/color] he addressed to Band specifically. He tried--somewhat convincingly--to bury his frustration with coming up empty-handed beneath a bearing of forward objectivity [color=5edaf6]“So what’s our play?”[/color] While the question was meant primarily for the detective, anyone with additional leads or answers was free to offer them, for which he waited and read the table. On this particular matter, he was content to let the Big man take the lead, being clearly the most experienced at it. That didn’t mean, however, that he would be getting comfortable enough to cease looking over his back for any would-be pursuers.