[color=f7941d][h2] [centre] Victor Henson [/centre] [/h2]
[h3] [centre] Friday Night >>> outside of the Flour Meadough Bakery [/centre] [/h3][/color]

  The man continued to move about impatiently waiting for someone to answer occasionally blowing into his cold hands and rubbing them together. His thoughts drifted back to his mother and what she had said to him, “[i][color=ec008c]now victor, when you go to this address. Ask for Derek Thompson.” [/color][/i]She paused between coughing and smiled, [i][color=ec008c]“they don’t know about you and frankly I don’t know about them, not anymore really.”[/color][/i]

  [color=springgreen]“Sir?”[/color] His thoughts were broken, and he was brought back to reality by a soft and sweet voice from the door, [color=springgreen]"I apologize, but the bakery is closed as of right now. If you're interested in buying something, my grandmother will have a stall at the winter ball later today."[/color]

  He took a moment to look the younger girl over, short, Petite, maybe a little frail with straight brown hair and mossy green eyes. She looked good in the subtle orange of the street lights and white of the light on the building. Victor broke from his thought once again and smiled at her, “[color=f7941d]o no sorry I’m not here for the bakery. I was uhh, told to come here and uhh ask for Derek Thompson[/color]” he paused for a moment and looked away rubbing the back of his head. [color=f7941d]“I’m not looking for handouts or anything, but my mother told me this was a good place to start looking for my father.”[/color]

[@Poi]