[center][sup][h1][color=black]Marion Lovelace [/color]
[color=7BCDC8]Marion Lovelace[/color][/h1][/sup]
[@TokyoPewPew][/center]

[sup][color=a9a9a9][color=7BCDC8]"Sir, hold on a moment. Let me help you with that..."[/color]

The old man grumbled inaudibly. [color=ffdead][i]Great. Another one.[/i][/color]

As the woman approached him, her shoes clicking off the flagstone and coming onto the gravel, he held up a hand, moving with a uncharacteristic spryness.

[color=ffdead]"I'm good, lady. Don't need the help, but..."[/color] He pictured her dead in the forest, mangled, limbs lost to the wilderness, and lowered his hand. [color=ffdead]"Thanks for the offer."[/color]

He took note of the area and the woman, picking up on the fact that she was here seemingly before him. The observation made him feel uneasy as he picked up the cleaning bottle, no safety diamond in sight. [color=ffdead]"Little early for the library, aint'cha? Ain't open for another couple hours. There's a diner down the street; should be open right 'bout now. You can hang out there. See that sign? No loitering."[/color][/color][/sup]