Malcolm Davies yawned as he trudged to the little dining room off the lobby. The Hawkeye Inn was quaint, picturesque, tastefully decorated. Colm didn't give a shit. It was just another in a long string of motels, each one further away from Seattle. He had rolled into this little town in- Nebraska? No, wait, it was the Hawkeye Inn, not the Cornhusker Inn. It had been three in the morning, his eyes heavy with fatigue. He vaguely remembered the desk clerk, a tall woman with dark hair and blue eyes. Her name had been Siobhan, he was pretty sure. An old Irish name.

Like Maureen.

He shook his head angrily at the thought of his erstwhile girlfriend. Come on, Davies, get it together. Still yawning, he ran through his plan for the day. Get a cup of coffee, maybe some eggs. Gas up the Tahoe, keep heading east. Maybe hit Chicago next. Or maybe that was too far. Maybe just as far as the Quad Cities. He hadn't gotten much sleep. Not with that thing peering at him from the bathroom door.

It was still earlyish, eight or so. He had just given up on sleeping. A holdover from his long nights on stakeouts, watching some punk's home for any sign of activity, anything at all. Except this time it felt more like he was the one being staked out. By a bunch of mice, no less. What a load of bullshit.

The French doors to the dining room were invitingly open, and Colm smiled at the inviting scent of a dark roast. Smelled like good quality stuff, too. Far and away above the usual motel coffee. Always a plus. His pace quickened slightly.

Colm came to an abrupt stop as a man came out of the doorway. He was very tall, nearly seven feet, rail-thin. Caucasian, with that smooth unblemished skin that makes it almost impossible to guess an age. And dressed in a dark green suit, a bit old-fashioned. The tall man grinned at Colm, with a mouth that seemed like a huge slit cut in his face. The grin was almost impossibly wide, almost literally from ear to ear. Colm was almost taken aback at the sheer size of the man's mouth.

"Watkins was right," the man in the green suit said.

"Beg pardon?" Colm asked. He wasn't quite sure what the man was trying to say.

"You are going to breakfast?" the tall man continued. His voice was just off. He had no accent, but the inflections, emphases, and pauses were just all wrong. Like he read English perfectly but rarely had the opportunity to speak it.

"Yes, sir," Colm replied patiently. He had come across several eccentrics and harmless crazies in his time as a cop. All you could do was wait them out.

"Good, good!" the man said with his enormous smile. "That is how you get big and strong!" Maybe it was the man's height, but he seemed to be looking past Colm. Like he was speaking to someone else behind him. "It is always good to eat, and this town is so good for eating!"

"Of course," Colm said with a nod.

"It is an intersection. A crossroads. The best eating is always there. But there's more to life than food, eh?" The tall man winked, his huge grin still stretched out as he walked off in long, ambling strides. "And welcome to Rainey, Detective!"

Colm stared for a moment, unsure whether he had mentioned his vocation. After a moment he shrugged. He had probably said something in his sleep-deprived state. Getting out of this town was sounding more and more attractive.

Colm sauntered into the dining room, poured himself a cup of what proved to be an excellent Colombian roast, as well as some eggs Benedict and bacon. Even for this complimentary breakfast, all the food was of very high quality, cooked with expensive ingredients. Maybe that's what the tall man had talked about.

He looked around the dining room, saw only one other person eating. A young man with shoulder-length hair and a blue turtleneck despite the summer heat, leafing through a newspaper. Might as well leave him be. He settled in at an empty table, eyes on the door. Cop habit. Always good to see who was coming and going.

Tallah Walker ambled into the Hawkeye Inn dining room mid-yawn, as she raised her arms over her head in a luxurious stretch. She was dressed comfortably in an overly large t-shirt and a pair of sweat pants. Covering her feet were two mismatched socks, but hey, why bother with shoes at a cheap hotel? She certainly couldn't care less what the other guests thought of her bedraggled appearance, especially after being suck here for three days. At the moment the focus of her attention was locked on the buffet counter serving breakfast. Her stomach rumbled at the smell of fresh bacon and eggs, among other foods. Even though she'd been trying to escape the little town of Rainey, its hotel certainly had a few perks.

As she scooped a generous helping of scrambled eggs onto her plate, Tallah's mind wandered to the previous night. She had slept very well considering her shadow buddy decided to make multiple appearances throughout the night. He seemed to be showing up more often lately. Maybe he was lonely. I should set him up on a date with the shadow of that pretty mannequin I saw at the store. He could use a girlfriend, she thought, smirking to herself as she lathered a bagel in cream cheese. Maybe that's what he wants from me: to be his matchmaker. Lord knows he could use the help.

Tallah finished off her heaping plate with a few strips of bacon and some sausage. She turned towards the dining room, her chocolate brown eyes scanning the empty tables as she pondered where to sit. Across the room, she spotted someone she hadn't seen before. That's new. A dark skinned man with a shaved head and a hint of facial hair was sitting at a table by himself. He was watching the door kind of intensely, like he was expecting someone to walk in with a gun. She made a split second decision and strode across the room.

"Is this seat taken?" Tallah asked, although she didn't wait for an answer as she pulled out the chair across from him and plopped herself down into it. She lifted a forkful of scrambled eggs to her mouth and took a bite, letting out a satisfied sigh. "Oh man," she continued after swallowing. "It doesn't get better than this. This place has the best complimentary breakfasts. I would know. I'm a scrambled egg expert - self-proclaimed, of course." She took another bite.

"Oh right," she looked up from her plate to meet the man's eyes. "You're probably wondering who the crazy girl that keeps talking to you is. My name's Tallah." She extended her hand across the table. "And who might you be, Mr. Tall, Dark, and Handsome?"

Sebastian opened his eyes and, for a moment, wondered where he was.

The room he was in was much smaller than his room at home. The bed wasn't his. There was a rucksack beside the bed–

He remembered now. Despite everything, a smile spread across his face.

He was free. He'd packed up, withdrawn all his savings (well, only the money from his summer jobs: about three thousand dollars, most of which was carefully tucked into various hidden compartments in his bag) and headed out of town. It was the first time he'd gone anywhere by himself (bible camp didn't count).

And now he was roughing it in a small town somewhere in Iowa. It was the first time he'd stayed somewhere where they didn't leave chocolates on your pillow, at any rate.

After brushing his teeth and changing shirts, he went down to the lobby. He'd seen a dining room somewhere around here; he could have breakfast and maybe check out the community college he'd spotted yesterday after–

He didn't see the man until they collided.

"S-sorry sir! I didn't see you!" He really hadn't, Sebastian realised. He was six foot two but the man was a foot taller at the very least. He wore a green suit with absolutely no creases at all; Sebastian wondered how much starch the man used to keep it like that.

The man smiled. At least, his mouth stretched sideways and his teeth were visible. "Don't worry about it, boy. Grabbing a bite to eat?"

There was something strange about the way he spoke. Like he was saying the words out one at a time with no thought of how they would sound together in a sentence. Or like someone who'd never heard anyone speak before.

Politeness compelled him to respond. "Yes, sir."

Hoping the man was simply making small talk, he almost missed what he said next.

"...so rare nowadays. Good! You look like you could use a nice breakfast...and lunch...and dinner. I can see your bones, you know!"

"If you say so, sir."

"Come now," the man laughed, but there was something off about that as well. "Do I look old enough to be called 'sir'? But never mind. Rainey is an intersection, a crossroads. The best eating is always there."

Sebastian felt like he should say something. "Because more people pass through?"

The man's grin widened, if that was even possible. Sebastian wondered if a smile was supposed to have that many teeth. "You're a sharp one, and no mistake." He clapped a hand on Sebastian's shoulder. Despite himself, he flinched. The man stepped back.

"Well then. Enjoy your stay, Sebastian."

Sebastian frowned as the man strode away. Had he given his name? He couldn't remember.

He looked down and found he had two shadows.

"Decided to tag along, Mr. Gone?" He said under his breath. "At least I have company. Come on."

Mr. Gone was technically Antigonish, after a poem he'd come across in high school. At that time he'd wondered if the writer had his own stalker; the words described it perfectly. He'd been afraid it was a demon, but it seemed to come and go when it pleased no matter how much praying he did.

Then high school had happened, and...well, a demon wouldn't have kept him from killing himself, would it?

So the demon became Antigonish, and sometimes Mr. Gone for short. The poem was no longer completely accurate: he didn't want it to go away anymore. Not completely.

He found the dining room easily: the smell of coffee was unmistakable. The room was rather empty at the moment: a bald dark-skinned man sat by the door eating eggs Benedict and bacon, a young man in a blue turtleneck sweater was reading a newspaper, and a rather messily dressed girl was at the buffet counter loading her plate with all manner of foods.

Sebastian took a plate. Seeing the food the other two guests had, he picked out an eggs Benedict and a plain bagel. As he was trying to decide where to sit, he saw the woman sit next to the bald man by the door. Making up his mind, he sat at the table next to them and started on his eggs Benedict. Much to his surprise, it tasted exactly like the ones he'd tried at the five-star hotels he'd stayed at in the past.

Perhaps the Hawkeye Inn wasn't as rough as he'd thought.

Emma slammed the door of her rental car, annoyed. Not one single Subway. Nor MacDonalds, nor anything British that could make her feel a little at home. Defeated, she had finally decided to draw the car into the parking lot of a small hotel after an hour of cruising aimlessly down foreign, wrong-sided roads - it was the first one she'd seen - which the sign declared as the 'Hawkeye Inn'. She had sat a moment in the driving seat, her head in her hands at the sheer vastness of this new country, before pulling herself together and forcing herself to crack open the door and scramble out. She caught sight of her reflection in the dusty windows of the rental as she did; her hair was a complete mess of dark tendrils, having only had the opportunity to drag a hairbrush through it in the airport toilets, in the early hours of morning. She cringed a little, but then, ignored it. It was currently the least of her worries.

She had so far gathered that she was in the state of Iowa. She had no idea of where she was going or, indeed, how she was getting there. She was hoping that this spontaneous road trip would reassure her enough to shake her OCD - show her that not planning everything to the last, minute detail wasn't necessary - but so far, it had only convinced her that she needed them more than ever. She had nearly missed her plane and then, had locked her keys in her flat. In the present, she could already feel hands itching for the hand sanitizer stowed away in her luggage.

She extracted the suitcase from the passenger seat of the car, and made her way up to the entrance. She figured she could check in now and then go hunt for some diner or something, to eat at. Her stomach rumbled in approval.

She entered and sauntered up the reception desk, checking in and retrieving a key. She glanced past the lobby at a small eating place and she sighed in relief, dragging to and leaving her luggage next to one of the seats in the lobby (she was past caring whether anyone stole it) and walked over, determinedly. She crossed the threshold and the warm aroma of cooked breakfast hit her - delicious.

She scanned the area. It was fairly quietly and only a couple of people were seated, grazing their way through their own breakfast. Perfect. She hated crowds.

She grabbed a plate of her own and served herself breakfast, barely looking at the food she was placing on her plate - only ensuring that nothing touched and that she had everything in near equal amounts - before turning back to the tables, wondering where to sit. Most people (and by most, she meant three) had collected on a table in full view of the doorway and so, too wearied to think of a argument not to, went and sat a couple of chairs across from them. Usually, she was hyper aware of the fussy manner in which she ate and no longer liked to eat in company, but surely a few Americans that she was unlikely to see again would care.

She discrete wiped the handles of her knife and fork with one of the napkins, and cut her bacon into square, tentatively beginning to eat. The smell of coffee inviting her to grab a cup but she resisted. Coffee and her were never a good combination - as if she wasn't constantly on edge enough already. After the first mouth full, she had nearly moaned at how good the food was, filling her empty stomach and warming her up.
And she hadn't even sighted Whisper - her 'stalker', the product of her damaged, over active imagination - for a good 12 hours now.

Maybe things were looking up.

Maybe this trip was just what she need.

Robert awoke to a blinding light directly on his face, the sunlight cutting through the gap between the drab curtains. He let out a soft groan, always been one of those people who struggled to get back to sleep once they had woken up. He turned to see Chris and Michael both unconscious, the elder brother with a stream of drool running down his pillow. Shuffling out of bed Rob's stomach decided it was time for breakfast, letting out a monstrous roar. He felt his entire body shake at his body openly cried out for nourishment. He scoured the floor, still trying to regain his vision after being blinded by the sunlight. The familiar feeling of a shirt underneath his foot let him now he had found his pile of clothes from the previous day.

Breakfast, shower and then wake up these two...

Leaning over to the bedside table he picked up his phone and headphones, putting them into his ears. He cranked up the volume and put on one of his mixed playlists, although the majority of it was heavy metal. He wasn't always into it but something in him changed as he got older that made the heavy bass, ear shredding riffs and unholy vocals touch his soul. As he left the room he found himself nodding along to the beat.

The corridor wasn't the biggest, he had to turn his shoulder as a young couple left their room with their bags, seemingly in so much of a rush that they didn't even want breakfast. The wallpaper wasn't to his taste and at some places it was started to peel away from the wall, but he didn't mind, he was getting more than what he had paid for. He realised that more than anything when he arrived at the dining room. There was a large buffet at the far side that sent out the smell of freshly cooked bacon, teasing its way up his nostrils.

Jesus...cannot wait...

He had not been a fan of the american style of bacon, much preferring that of his native country, but it had started to grow on him. Still, in a straight up choice he would always go with his nans grease riddled rashers every time. He spotted several people sat about the place, catching glimpse of a woman trying to stealthily clean the handles of her cutlery. The way she carried herself was a clear sign of someone who was pretty uncomfortable with her surroundings. He shrugged his shoulders and continued on towards the buffet, banging his head harder as the next song kicked in.

Robert was greeted by a variety of different foods but there was only one plan for him. Picking up his plate he began to stack a mountain of bacon and sausage, before smothering them all in in baked beans. He topped the almost volcano like mound with several hashbrowns before taking a seat on the table across from the OCD suffering girl. He caught a glimpse of her again as he sat down, seeing the pleasure across her face as she took her first mouthful of food. He quickly turned his gaze back to his own sustenance and dove in. As he chewed he still nodded his head, getting lost in the sound of the music. So much so that he had started to hum along and occasionally banging out a beat on the table. He wasn't intentionally trying to annoy anyone, music was the only thing that kept away the memory of losing his girlfriend.

Brown eyes flickered open, sweat sticking unruly short brown hair to a damp, flat pillow. The last time that Parker remembered looking at before clocking out was 7:33AM, and before that, 6:59AM, and before that, 5:42AM. Now... the girl reached a lanky arm for the other side of the bed, where her phone lay charging. Not. Apparently in her nightly fits, she'd accidentally smacked her phone and the charger in separation, and her phone battery blinked at a warm seventy percent. Reaching for the charger that'd fallen to the ground, Parker easily snapped the two back together, her phone buzzing in her hand. Eight o'clock. Well, perhaps that was enough sleeping anyways.

The girl slowly pulled herself up, repeating a soft mantra of, "Deep breath in, deep breath out." There was always something disorienting in waking up to unfamiliar places, which was why Parker tried to do so only when necessary. She sat at the side of her bed, resting her elbow to her knees, her thin arms looking even thinner from the odd shadows placed by the leaking sunlight. "Deep breath in," she whispered as she inhaled, counting to eight in her head, "Deep breath out," her breath came out as a low hiss, elongated to ten seconds. She did the ritual three more times before rising to her feet, making her way to the curtain covered windows and tossing them aside. Man, how was she gonna earn enough for those plane tickets? Maybe she could just hitchhike her way home, thought Parker to herself as she started to her bed once more, the idea of hitchhiking tugging a smile on her lips. That was possible one of the stupidest ideas she could've thought of.

She unplugged her phone, disappointed to see that it'd only charged two more percents than being completely charged despite the small amount of time that'd passed, tucking it in between her shorts and underwear, seeing as she found no other place to put it given the lack of pockets. Parker made her way to her partially unzipped luggage, opening it the whole way and tossing on a tee over her tank top, slipping off her shorts and gripping her phone as she changed into another pair- these with pockets, and not as short as the last one. Her stomach growled as she slam dunked the short shorts in with the rest of her luggage, and Parker decided that it was probably a good time to head down for some breakfast.

Her foot accidentally knocked against another bag she'd bought with her, filled with her electronic needs, and as she did so, accidentally knocked out a box. It was, perhaps, a bit foreignly effeminate given that it had been a gift from her mother. A makeup bag, her mother had told her, as though it was something she would use. Even as a child Parker had been a bit of a tomboy, but the idea of makeup was so terrifyingly obscure that she strayed from it. Why bother learning about something you weren't good at, anyways? Well, as for the kit, it was now stuffed with her female goods, as well as the bottle of medicine and vitamins she found necessary to take with her.

Reaching a tan arm towards the fallen kit, Parker opened it and pulled out her medicine bottle, deciding that perhaps she should take it today. It had been, after all, a week since she'd touched the things. Then again... it /had/ been a week since she'd touch the things, and she was fine. So, maybe... Parker placed the pill bottle back into the kit and zipped it shut, tossing the heart patterned box onto the bed. Slipping on sandals, she headed out of her room, making sure her key was in her pocket.

The small corridor made /it/ not too hard to miss. Parker remembered her lessons, however, and avoided eye contact, turning her body so her back faced the glowering owl. It had only been a glimpse, she noted to herself, but the hallway seemed much smaller after seeing Miss Fortune. Parker reached for the wall to her right, wondering if it was perhaps because of how cramped the owl man had looked, contorting his body to fit in the slim rectangular shape. Before she could continue thinking, her nostrils were filled with the scent of food, and her stomach growled again.

Her dark brown bangs bounced over her eyes as she walked past a head banging individual, obviously quite enamored in his music. She heard him take a seat behind her, and it was only then did her eyes sweep over the room, to catch the number of people seated. It wasn't too large, but it wasn't as though everyone was alone either. Though, spare the two loudly chatting it up, it did seem everyone was rather... well...
Parker turned to grab herself a a meal, conversation hummed dimly behind her. Opting for two bowls rather than a plate, Parker poured herself a bowlful of cereal and milk, the other bowl piled high with a mix of vegetables and fruit. She passed by the coffee machine as she made her way to an available seat across a man with a mouthful of egg and a plateful of a plain bagel, her nose scrunching instinctively at the stench. Never was a fan of coffee, and it embarrassed her as an "adult" to admit it- someone giggled in the distance, as though having noticed her face, but Parker put it off as someone else minding their own conversation.

"Hope you don't mind," she nodded to her seatmate, regarding her occupancy of part of the table, taking a spoonful of cereal before the other party could respond.

Benjamin snapped awake, as a heavy buzzing filled his ears, penetrating deep into his bones. It wasn't long before the buzz was accompanied by a light tune, one of his favorite songs. Groaning a bit, he sat up, reluctantly answering the phone. "Yeah, Johnny?" He muttered, disgruntled at the rude awakening. "Now isn't the best time. If you couldn't tell, I'm not exactly on the stick right now... Can it wait.?" He asked, laying back down, his head heavily thudding down on the pillow. In the background, he could hear some muffled talking- that usually meant that there was a meeting he was supposed to be in.

"Yeah. Ben. We've got some pretty important business going on right now. Pull your lazy ass out of bed, and be a little bit useful." The man responded, his tone clearly unhappy.

"Hey, nosebleed, its my day off. I think you can make it though one meeting without me. At least lemme refuel, and I'll hit you up again later." He could hear Johnny starting to protest, but hung up before he could actually let out more than a sentence. Benny let out a loud yawn, stretching out as he stood up. After he shook off the initial tiredness, he quickly took a shower before getting dressed, putting on his favorite white and black checkered suit. As he shuffled some of his things around the small hotel room, sprucing the place up a bit, he looked up to see Flush staring at him, in the doorway. The... thing looked as creepy as ever, shadow drenching the trench coat clad man. Benny thought he might be able to see a few extra limbs, but for whatever reason, he could never focus on Flush.

"Ah, don't look at me like that, buddy. You know I deserve some time off. Anyways, what is that stick-in-the-mud going to do? Fire me from my own company?" He asked the dark figure, not expecting any real response. "Don't let me rattle your cage. Let's get some grub." He said, walking out past Flush, to head down to the dining room, where he had spent quite a bit of his time during his stay in Rainey.

Having been there for a couple of weeks now, Ben was able to find his way down with no problems, not really paying much attention to anything on his way. Every now and again he would look behind him, to see Flush standing there, watching over him. Though at first Flush had been very shy, never appearing in public, He was now fine with being seen by an errant passerby or two- he still wasn't a fan of massive crowds, though. Occasionally, someone would notice him, and make a scene about it, but more often than not, people were too busy going on with their usual business to actually care about Flush's presence.

So, when Ben reached the dining room to see the small group of people, he was very surprised to see Flush vanish, hiding farther away, through a window. "Ah, don't be such a pooper. There ain't more than ten people in here. You know you love the coffee here!." Ben said, louder than he had meant to. He turned away from Flush for just a second, to give him time to come back, but was disappointed to see him staying put, watching from a distance. "Fine, be like that, you germ." Ben muttered, turning away from the window. He walked over to grab some food, ending up with nothing more than an apple. He looked at the rather crowded congregation currently clustered at the table, and considered sitting with them. After all, the group was so mismatched, it was more likely than not that they had just met.

His better judgement took hold, and he took a seat at an empty table, though still close to the others. Something he couldn't quite put his finger on drew him to the group. After taking a sip of some nondescript liquid from a flask he carried with him, he shot one last glance at flush through the window. "You sure you want to stay out there? I'm sure we can find some nice cool corner for you to stare at people in." He asked, again a bit louder than he wanted to, considering how close he was to the others.

Now that he had some food in him, Sebastian found himself thinking more. Doubt was beginning to creep in: yes, he'd gotten away from his parents, he'd chosen his own path for once in his life, but what was he going to do? Even if he wound up attending the community college here, he wasn't sure the inn would let him stay for two years. He couldn't plan anything properly–

If he had his phone, he could have distracted himself. But he'd left it at home, worried that his parents could trace its signal and track him down that way. Even if they didn't care enough to go looking for him, his father had bought it and he always cared for his money. It was the same reason he'd only taken money he'd earned himself.

He looked around at the other people in the restaurant instead. Another woman had taken a seat a few tables away, eating methodically. It was like someone had taken his mother's lessons on table manners completely to heart. A man sat opposite her, with a downright enormous amount of food in front of him. He nodded along to a beat Sebastian couldn't hear as he ate, occasionally tapping out a rhythm on the table. It reminded him of the few metal-heads at his high school. He'd sat with them at lunch a few times, but they were obviously uncomfortable around him, and eventually he got used to eating alone.

Of course, it didn't hurt that the man was rather– Sebastian clenched his fists. He knew it was wrong, but he couldn't seem to help it. Besides, it wasn't like he had a chance.

"Hope you don't mind," a woman said somewhere to his left. He looked over.

She was tall, about as tall as him, and dressed in a shirt and pants. She didn't look much older than him, but then he'd never been good at guessing ages.

"Oh, uh, sure... I don't mind..." He trailed off as she sat down across from him without waiting for an answer. Suddenly he was painfully aware of the faded lines and marks running all the way down his arms, and the short sleeves of his shirt.

Had she seen them? She seemed focused on her bowl of cereal, but...

Sebastian put his left arm in his lap and picked up his bagel. He'd never had a bagel before, but he imagined a good one would taste like this.

One more person had entered the dining room in the meantime. He wore a black-and-white suit and seemed to be talking to himself. Then again, he figured most people had, at one time or another.

He turned back to the woman across from him. No one had ever voluntarily sat with him before. He wasn't sure what the rules were in this case.

Probably best to start with a safe, normal topic.

"So...what are you doing here? In this town, I mean."

Colm blinked, a little taken aback as the girl sat down across from him and began a relentless stream of commentary and questions. A bit startled at being shaken out of his reverie, he looked around the room. The girl seemed pretty young to be traveling alone. Was her mother or father along with her? Not to mention being addressed as "Tall, Dark, and Handsome" by a girl who looked no older than eighteen made him feel distinctly uncomfortable.

A shadow seemed to move outside one of the windows, gone by the time he looked fully at it. His jaw tightened. Was he being visited by the Great Mouse Detective? In broad daylight and a public place? Where was it going to stop?

Colm forced himself to the present, and forced a smile on his face as well as the young lady extended her hand and introduced herself as Tallah. "Uh, Malcolm," he said, giving her hand a quick pump. "Just call me Colm. And yeah, the food here's real good. Heads and tails over other hotels. You know, it's weird, there was a guy just now. Real weird-looking guy. And he kept talking about the food in this town. I thought he was a little touched in the head, but now that I've had some of these eggs I see where he's coming from." Colm gave a smile at that, trying to seem light and at ease. But he was having difficulty focusing on Tallah, instead looking over her shoulder, out a window looking out into a small grassy courtyard.

It was there.

The leather jacket, the tie, the peaked hat. And below, where there should be a face, just dozens of mice piled together, crawling over one another and sniffing at the air, but always maintaining the same general shape of a human head. The clothing sometimes bulged, stretched, receded, and Colm could only guess that there were hundreds more mice underneath that coat. It stood in the courtyard, leaning casually against an ash tree, looking towards the window. Did anyone else see it? Could anyone else see it? He had never really dealt with it with other people around, aside from Maureen, of course. This was a first.

He took a long, desperate sip from his coffee, trying to hide his discomfort. He wasn't going to draw attention to it, he decided. If someone else noticed, great. But he wasn't going to say anything.

"So," Colm said, maybe a little too cheerfully. "Where you headed, Tallah?"

It was as if the Universe had combined every thing in the Universe that annoyed her and sat it across from her, just to gauge how she would react.

The dark haired man that had taken the seat opposite her on the table at which she sat - closer than the two meter radius she usually liked to sustain between herself and strangers - and the clothes he was wearing looked crumpled, as though they had been worn before or deliberately creased. She was naturally self conscious considering the case was probably similar to herself (she had not given herself time to change at the airport) but to see it one someone else, just irritated her. Her hands were itching for an iron, for both their sakes'.

And not only that, but the plate of food that he had piled up in front of himself was absolutely vast. It was in direct contrast to her own ordered plate and she tried not to stare at the grotesque mash-up of seemingly random breakfast foods into a stack of mixed up beans, bacon, hash browns...She resisted the urge not the shudder. She slowed in eating her food, a little more aware of her surroundings now she had sated the worst of her hunger. She piled the bacon into a neat, little tower, in an attempt to soothe herself. It didn't work.

As if to add insult to injury, he was wearing headphones that were blasting out music and he would occasionally bang a part of the tune out on the table or hum it loudly. She frowned, her hands tightening into small fists. This was more than she could take. Perhaps this was a divine test to see whether or not she could cope with everything her OCD forced her to hate. She stopped eating and stood up to retrieve herself a drink, edging out past the people that had taken seats nearby. When she returned, she was clutching a glass of cool orange juice which she placed next to her plate, checking that no one had touched her food or cutlery. Despite the fact she had kept her eyes on her seat during the whole walk to and from where they were serving food.

She took a sip, her hazel eyes still staring at the man with loud music. Was he doing this deliberately?

She put the glass down on the table with a little more force than she had expected to use. She cleared her throat but she was sure her voice had been buried beneath the loud beat undoubtedly assaulting his ears and so she tried again, using every effort to force a half hearted smile. What was it that her counsellor had told her at times like this? Focus on patterns.

She glanced across at the wallpaper on the walls of the eating place. The pattern was a little bold for her tastes but it was a pattern nonetheless, repeating every foot or so. She sighed a little in relief, drawing strength from the small slice of order in her little world of chaos. The fists her hands had formed loosened a fraction.

"Excuse me; can you turn your music down a little?" she plucked up the courage to address to man, her voice sounding painfully quiet and ending up a little more high-pitched than she usually spoke, tinted by nerves. She racked her brain quickly, searching for something to soften the conversation. What did people normally say in these kind of interactions? She had lost many of her friends long ago and this situation had grown foreign to her.

"My name's Emma," she continued, relaxing a little as she become accustomed to talking, proceeding to cut up the sausage into equal sized mini cylinders to keep herself calm and her voice even "Umm...what's yours?"

Tallah smirked at the man's obvious discomfort at what she said. The past few days at this hotel had been pretty boring, so she was letting out some of her pent up energy on the poor guy. She was just about to add a followup comment, but her good humor vanished when she noticed his expression darken slightly. He seemed to be focused on something behind her. She glanced over her shoulder, too brief to notice anything, and turned back to him. Whatever it was, it probably didn't concern her.

Maybe he's just losing it, Tallah thought, her mind wandering to Waldo. Like me. She doubted it. What were the odds that Waldo had a brother who also liked to stalk people, and that she would meet the other victim here?

"Uh, Malcolm. Just call me Colm. And yeah, the food here's real good. Heads and tails over other hotels. You know, it's weird, there was a guy just now. Real weird-looking guy. And he kept talking about the food in this town. I thought he was a little touched in the head, but now that I've had some of these eggs I see where he's coming from."

So he had a name. He was also a bit of a rambler. Tallah nodded but wasn't really sure who Colm was talking about, even though she prided herself on knowing many of the other Hawkeye guests. Colm made a weak attempt at a smile, but whatever was distracting him must have really set him on edge. Tallah frowned.

"Hm, you know it's rude to check out other girls when talking to a lady," she joked, trying to rein him back into their conversation. Colm didn't seem to hear her though. She looked back, but didn't see whatever it was that he was staring at. Maybe Waldo did have a brother after all. Or maybe his girlfriend was cheating on him and he was stalking Tallah to get revenge. The idea amused her.

"So, where you headed, Tallah?"

"Here, there, everywhere," she replied vaguely, lifting her shoulders in a shrug. "I was headed to Wisconsin, but, you know, stuff happened," Still vague. "and now I'm staying here for a while." She didn't feel comfortable sharing the truth: that she was actually stuck here because she couldn't find her way out of town. Colm would either think she was hopelessly directionally challenged or deranged.

"This place gets all sorts of weird people," Tallah abruptly changed the subject. She was looking around at the people who now sat in the diner. There was a skinny, hunched-over guy; a girl with a severe case of OCD who was cutting her food into small, equal bites; a guy headbanging to music that only he could hear; another girl (at least she looked semi-normal); and a man who seemed to be talking to himself. She looked down at her own bedraggled clothes and ran a hand through her messy, unbrushed hair. "Well, I suppose I'm not one to talk." She laughed.

"Anyway, what brings you to this jolly little town?" Tallah asked.

Parker was absorbed in finishing her meal, the creamy whiteness of her milk was replaced with flecks of cereal here and there. Just as she was about to take the bowl and put it to her lips, she heard the last few words of her seatmate- "...doing here? In this town, I mean." Dark brown lashes flickered as her eyes looked to the male she'd chosen to sit with, saying nothing as she continued to drink.

What was the typical response to a question like that? Then again, Parker thought behind gulps of milk, she wasn't even sure if the guy really talked to her. Inwardly, she cursed herself for not bringing her meds with her, swearing to take her daily dose as soon as she went back up. She also cursed herself out for choosing to sit next to someone in the first place. She knew she was anything but a conversationalist, so why would she put herself in such a situation? Honestly it was enough for her to smack herself.

Resting the bowl on the table with a light clatter, Parker licked her lips as she thought of a reply. Something not to obvious, something that would seem like a nice conversation starter. That way, if she /had/ been hearing voices earlier, at least if she replied it would seem as though she was merely trying to engage in conversation. And being awkwardly friendly was always much more preferable than looking like a loon, in Parker's opinion.

Dipping a hand into her bowl of fruits, her slender and slightly tan fingers plucked at a cantaloupe cube. "This place seems nice," she replied after five seconds of deliberation in her head, placin the fruit in her mouth. That should have been a decent enough response, she inwardly approved, besides, even if the guy really was talking to her, it's not like she was going to spill her life story right there. It was tactless. And probably impolite.

"What are you doing here?" asked Parker as she used her free hand to tuck a stray strand of brunette behind her ear, sounding as though she were starting another conversation rather than continuing another one. Squeezing a grape behind a closed mouth, Parker swallowed and continued, softly, "In this town, I mean?"

The bass notes of the song were such that if they were being played at a gig, you would feel them reverberate through the entirety of your body. The food had almost taken a secondary place to the music as he had only managed to make it half way through the mountain. He was a pretty lean man but he could put away more food than most. From the day of his birth he had a grand apetite that he struggled to keep quelled. However no matter how much he ate, his body shape rarely changed... luckily for him.

As the song began to die down at the outro, Rob raised his head to see the nervous girl talking to him. While the music was in fact getting quieter he still couldn't hear her voice over it. She seemed to stop talking and just looked at him. Reaching into his pocket he turned off the music and pulled the headphones from his ears. He contemplated standing from his chair as a sign of respect, possibly offering a handshake but then the thought of her potentially severe OCD kicked in. She would probably recoil at the offer of a hand. As a few awkward seconds passed Robert looked her in the eye apologetically.

"I really am sorry lovely...I didn't hear a word of that...I guess the music was too loud...i'm really sorry..."

He looked back down at his food and poked at a half eaten sausage with his fork. His glance returned to her face and he did his utmost to not go into the details of his reliability on music.

"My names Robert but everyone calls me Rob."

His Welsh accent was thick and clearly out of place in this part of the world, but it had a novelty value that had seen him welcomed in every place he had stopped on his trip.

"Feel free to take a seat...could always do with some company."

"What brings you to this jolly little town?"

Colm shrugged. It was a natural question, anyone would ask that. Truth was, he didn't know. He could easily have just stayed on the 35, gone south to Des Moines, continued on to Kansas City. But something had made him pull off onto the little state road, drive through all the cornfields, and come to this little place, all in the middle of the night. He didn't know why, but he was here in Rainey.

"Just passing through, I guess," he said, still not wanting to tear his eyes off the Great Mouse Detective, but trying to be polite and not call attention to his stalker. This poor girl must think I'm insane. "Not really on the way to anywhere, to be honest. I just, uh, had some time off from work and I thought I'd see the country for a little while." He looked over to the next table, his curiosity piqued by the two British accents he was hearing. He had thought Seattle was a long way from here, but those two had covered quite a lot of distance.

Colm suddenly gasped as a hand slammed onto the table. He looked up, into the face of the one man who had already been in the dining room when he arrived. The man with the tangled mane of blonde hair and the turtleneck sweater. Unlike the fella in the green suit, he seemed decidedly normal aside from his poor choice of summer clothing.

"Sorry to interrupt," the man said with a smile. "Billy Blue. I'm the deacon at the church here. First Presbyterian, right over on Locust Street. I don't normally do this, but we're having a little meeting this afternoon at the church. Spiritual guidance, moral support, that sort of thing. If you're lost or lonely or unsure, it might do you guys some good. Bring you a little peace. Especially if you're stuck in the middle of bumfuck nowhere," he said with a self-deprecating grin. "So, you know, give it some thought. And if you've maybe got a friend who keeps following you around and just won't leave you alone, bring them too." Deacon Blue closed that remark with a wink, huge and obvious, to both Tallah and Colm. Colm could only watch, dumbstruck, as the man wandered off to the next table over.

The deacon approached other tables, where breakfast was being eaten, and gave more or less the same message. Robert and Emma were told of the meeting and to invite their "friends", as were Parker and Sebastian. Benjamin was also relayed the same message. Always accompanied by a big sloppy wink. Nudge nudge, say no more. Finally, Deacon Blue gathered up his newspaper and strolled out of the dining room after speaking to each guest.

Colm looked over at the other guests, quietly confused. Does he know? No, it's impossible. "Well, I don't know what that was about," he said, loudly enough for the entire room, trying to reassure himself. He barked a nervous laugh. This place was getting to him.

Tallah jumped at the unexpected thump of a hand on their table. She looked up to see the man who was dining here earlier. He was wearing an odd turtleneck sweater despite the summer heat. She had seen him around once or twice before, but never really thought much of him. He always seemed like the quiet type, so his sudden intrusion shocked her.

"Sorry to interrupt. Billy Blue. I'm the deacon at the church here. First Presbyterian, right over on Locust Street. I don't normally do this, but we're having a little meeting this afternoon at the church. Spiritual guidance, moral support, that sort of thing. If you're lost or lonely or unsure, it might do you guys some good. Bring you a little peace. Especially if you're stuck in the middle of bumfuck nowhere," (Tallah thought it was unusual that a religious man would use language like that.) "So, you know, give it some thought. And if you've maybe got a friend who keeps following you around and just won't leave you alone, bring them too."

Tallah froze at the mention of the "friend". How could he know about that? She flicked her gaze towards Colm for a second to see her own momentary panic reflected in his eyes. That only increased her confusion. Why was he afraid? Unless he shared her problem... but that wasn't possible... was it? She turned back to watch Turtleneck saunter off to the next table and repeat his offer to the people sitting there.

What's going on?

Tallah had been stuck here for three days now and nothing particularly unusual had happened. Why the sudden change? She looked around at the other unfamiliar faces in the diner. Could it be because of them? As she felt a new wariness for her fellow hotel guests, she spotted a moving shadow out of the corner of her eye.

I found Waldo, Tallah thought sarcastically. She shot her stalker buddy a glare for his poor sense of timing. He couldn't have picked a worse moment to appear. Then again, he usually showed up when she was feeling out-of-sorts like this. It was just his nature. She glanced back at Colm, who still looked unnerved. He surprised her by suddenly bursting out in a laugh.

"Well, I don't know what that was about."

Somehow, Tallah doubted he was as clueless as he tried to imply, but she kept it to herself. Despite her boisterous exterior, she was a very observant person. Plus, Colm wasn't covering up his anxiety very well. She offered him a friendly grin in an attempt to lessen the awkwardness of the whole situation.

"I don't either," Tallah responded, chuckling lightly. "What an odd guy. And did you see that hideous sweater? Talk about a fashion statement!" She made a face as if she were completely disgusted. "I bet he's only a deacon 'cause he can't get a girl. Celibate by force, y' know?"

The woman didn't respond, and for a moment Sebastian wondered if she had heard him. She started on her bowl of fruit, and he was about to repeat his question when she spoke.

"This place seems nice," she said as she popped a cube of some fruit he couldn't identify into her mouth. She tucked a strand of hair behind her ear. "What are you doing here? In this town, I mean?"

Like he hadn't asked the same question earlier.

Sebastian bristled, and it was all he could do not to narrow his eyes. Was she making fun of him? The people at his school had done that too: pretended not to hear him ask for his books back or his assignments returned, then repeated what he said in a mocking falsetto. After that they usually threw said books or assignments across the room, or if a teacher was around, directly at his face.

No, there was no way she could've known about that. She probably hadn't heard him, and was just trying to make conversation, same as him.

He relaxed, and was about to give a carefully-worded reply when the man in the turtleneck sweater he'd seen earlier walked up.

"Sorry to interrupt," he smiled. "Billy Blue. I'm the deacon at the church here. First Presbyterian, right over on Locust Street." Sebastian looked at the man curiously. A church on a road called Locust Street? It seemed like a strange coincidence. He was reading too much into this, most likely.

"...we're having a little meeting this afternoon at the church. Spiritual guidance, moral support, that sort of thing. If you're lost or lonely or unsure, it might do you guys some good. Bring you a little peace. Especially if you're stuck in the middle of bumfuck nowhere." The man gave a self-deprecating grin. "So, you know, give it some thought. And if you've maybe got a friend who keeps following you around and just won't leave you alone, bring them too."

Sebastian blinked. His extra shadow had disappeared while he was eating, and a red-eyed silhouette was standing a few metres behind and to the left of the deacon.

Don't look at Antigonish. Don't look at Antigonish.

He looked anyway. When he looked back, Deacon Blue winked as though he'd said a huge secret but wanted them to know it was safe with him, and walked off.

No one spoke.

"Well, I don't know what that was about," the bald man sitting by the door said. He laughed, a bit too loudly and nervously. Sebastian couldn't think why.

"Still not as weird as this man I ran into earlier," he said to his seat mate. "I was going to check out the community college here, but I think I'll stop by the church first." There was something he was forgetting...he kicked himself mentally as he remembered.

"Oh, and my name's Sebastian. What's yours?"

"I really am sorry lovely...I didn't hear a word of that...I guess the music was too loud...i'm really sorry..."

She nodded, taking a couple of deep breaths. The painful need to correct disorder had waned slightly and she managed to relax a little, her grip on her knife and fork loosening from 'vice-like' to just 'tight'. She even graced him with a semi genuine smile - something she hadn't allowed herself in quite a long time. She picked up her glass of orange juice and took another careful sip.

"My name's Robert but everyone calls me Rob."

His accent was certainly not American and when Emma recognised it as Welsh, she felt instantly reassured. It reminded her of home and she was beginning to realise just how much she missed it. Just how stupid she'd been to take this pointless trip. She was just taking another gulp of her juice when a grinning man, with blonde hair, approached their table. Emma tensed, instinctively.

He introduced himself as Billy Blue, the Deacon of the church and Emma raised an eyebrow, never considering herself very religious. She continued to drink, only half listening to his spiel until he mentioned something about a friend who wouldn't leave them alone. She nearly spat orange juice across the table in surprise but forced herself to gulp it down, before turning to him.

"What was that address?" she blurted out. It was too much of a coincidence. It must be divine sign - either that, or they had her medical file. How else could they know about Whisper, her long-term hallucination? Both scenarios were unnerving to think about and she noted down the place name mentally, deciding to go. She turned back to Rob, a little shaken and tried to smooth over her facial expression. She didn't need people thinking she had another mental illness, on top of her OCD.

"I'll probably go, you know," she said, quickly, trying not to appear as crazy as she felt "For inner peace, and all that mumbo jumbo. I'm a little far from home and could do with a little 'spiritual guidance'. Even if I am a sceptic - I suppose it's something to do."

Licking at the grape juice dripping down to her wrist, Parker looked up with mild interest at the new arrival. Her eyes wandered first to the other boy, hoping to see his attention directed to the man as well. Thankfully, it seemed as though this new fellow was real, and named Billy Blue at that. Parker's eyes rested away from the deacon and back to her fruits, listening barely as she picked at the pineapples, her fingers sticking with natural sugar. "...And if you've maybe got a friend who keeps following you around and just won't leave you alone, bring them too."

Dark brown eyes lifted at this final commentary, just in time to catch the man wink at the other person in the table. What was going on? Did the two know each other and had an inside joke thing going on? Parker gnawed on her bottom lip, biting down a bit too hard at the sound of familiar clacking. Ah. This was the friend the deacon was talking about. The deacon walked off, Parker lifting a sticky hand to her head as the clacking sound only got louder, her face paling at the nuisance. She jumped at the loud laughter, glancing once more at her seatmate to assure that it wasn't just her that had heard it. Not that it mattered, given there was another goddamn noise that was filling her head.

"Still not as weird as this man I ran into earlier," started the male as Parker weakly reached for another grape, shoving it in her mouth. Discreetly, her eyes wandered the room, trying to ignore the deacon, trying to find Miss Fortune. "...stop by the church first," continued he, adding after a pause- "Oh and my name's Sebastian. What's yours?"

There was another pause in her answer, this time shorter as she was trying to swallow the fruit stuck in her throat. Absently, Parker commented, "I'm Catholic." Her eyes made eye contact with an own proportioned oddly against the doorframe, and her mouth dried up. Reaching for a cantaloupe cube, Parker seemed to only realize then what she'd said. "Wait," she interjected, "My name... I'm Parker. I meant, I don't know if I should go to his church. Which is Presbyterian." She nodded awkwardly, heat rising in her neck as her shit explanation no doubt would pull a laugh or a weird look from Sebastian, both of which she didn't enjoy when directed at her. "Because I'm Catholic."

Never one for religion- she only went to church every Sunday because her mother urged her to- Parker doubted her other heavenly affiliations would deter her from visiting the church. She didn't believe in exorcisms, if that was what they were planning to do, but given the new surroundings, Parker decided it may as well have been a nice impulsive thing to do while on forced vacation. Munching on her cantaloupe, Parker weakly added, "I'll probably go, too."

"I'm Catholic," the woman said as she glanced in the direction of the exit. She seemed to realise something. "Wait. My name... I'm Parker. I meant, I don't know if I should go to his church. Which is Presbyterian. Because I'm Catholic..."

It looked as though Parker was as awkward as him. That thought made Sebastian feel a bit better and he smiled slightly, trying to reassure her.

After a pause she added, "I'll probably go, too."

"Great!" He grinned at her. "I wouldn't worry too much about denominations if I were you. My parents are Evangelicals. Besides, it's all the same God, right?" And it doesn't mean people will be nice... His smile began to feel forced. He looked away.

"I'm gonna go get a drink." He set his half-eaten bagel back on his plate and made his way to the buffet spread, returning with a glass of iced water. Had that been too abrupt? Parker hadn't looked all that comfortable when he was talking to her; had she actually wanted to be left alone and was simply being polite? Unconsciously, he pressed the cold glass hard against his palm as he drank.

Somewhat half-heartedly, he asked, "Are you doing anything later?"

As the deacon approached Ben, disgusting smile plastered on his face, he conveyed a message nearly similar, if not identical to that relayed to the rest. Not that Ben needed to listen. He had a bit of a habit of eavesdropping on others conversations. You might call it rude. He called it business. Still, Ben listened intently, impressed by the mans commitment.

The polite smile fell off of Bens face when Billy said something he really shouldn't have. "Give you a bit of peace. Especially if you're stuck in the middle of bumfuck nowhere." Ben let out a bit of an angry chuckle, while still managing to keep a stern scowl on his face.

"You think your god is going to offer me guidance, pal? Your 'god' left me 'in the middle of bumfuck nowhere' when he killed my parents. You know what that does to a kid? It'd take a little more than some 'spiritual guidance' to bring me any peace. Nah, there ain't no god in this world, and if there is, he sure as hell isn't a helpful one." Ben said, his voice slowly getting louder as the fake 1950's accent faded away. He tended to get sensitive about religious things, especially when it came from people so clearly blind to the pain he had gone through.

Still, he instantly regretted having made a scene about it, and began mentally berating himself for the uncivilized reaction. As he opened his mouth to sputter out some weak apology, the Deacon raised his hands, interrupting him. "Hey, it's fine. I understand. Listen, life gets hard. You can't do anything about that, but as long as you have someone by your side, it'll all turn out fine, and I'm sure you've got a close friend with you."

A confused look rested on Bens face, as he took in the implications of the mans statement. As it registered, the look only got stronger, his thick brow furrowing as deep wrinkles cut their way into his otherwise unblemished skin, dark cracks marring his pale visage. As the man left to continue preaching to whatever hotel dining rooms would listen, Ben halfheartedly called after him. "Wait up now- What is that supposed to mean?"

Unsurprisingly, he was met with no answers but silence. Sighing, he looked out the window, to seek advice from Flush. Ben was a bit shocked to see that Flush was nowhere to be found, which was very out of character for him. He was always there for Ben when advice or guidance was needed.

He had to have been talking about Flush, right? But there's no way that he could have known about him, right? But then what was he talking to the others about? Does Flush visit them, too? He stared deep into the wall as the questions ran through his mind, like a plague of locust, buzzing and angry, each vying to get his attention, only to fall back into the swarm.

Hesitantly, he resolved to later stop by the church, where he could hopefully answer at least a few of the questions. An aggravated growl left his throat. This was supposed to be a simple business trip. In and out, take one or two phone calls, then be done with it. Speaking of business, he thought to himself, as he felt a vibration disturb his pocket, soon accompanied by the smooth tunes of Frank Sinatra. With no hesitation he picked up the call, responding with a simple 'no', before hanging up. This day was not his best, and he had a feeling that it was going to get worse as he looked around, taking mental note of those others that the deacon had approached. No matter how many questions he thought of, one always rose above the others. Who are these people?