Member
Another day in this city of his. Another day of mysteries and hidden truths, faded values and little white lies. Shrine City was many things, of course. Love, life, and luxury were a few of the many things to be found here. After all, with all youth of today, who could say any different?
Oliver took a drag of his cigarette, lifting up a photograph of a young woman who had came to him for a prior case, blowing smoke across the faded film. Such a young woman, with her curly brown locks and tender gaze that captured the soul with cognac colored eyes. He couldn't forget her, how she'd been looking for her boyfriend who had gone missing for a week after leaving for a fishing trip. He had just vanished, never returning her texts, all calls going to voicemail.
The detective thought it was the first of something serious in his long career of private investigation, getting his hopes up in preparation of what he thought would be a defining moment in his career. Yet, like so many cases before it, it resulted only in disappointment.
It turns out the boyfriend has sent his sweetheart and email stating he was in the next town, forgetting his phone charger and forgetting to call her on a payphone just outside the hotel he was staying at. Oliver had wasted his time over a lady who didn't check her emails, with the only thing bearing fruit of his efforts was an adequate sum of Yen with a USD equivalent of five hundred US dollars.
He took another drag of his cigarette.
Another dame he remembered due to her stupidity.
Ah well, there was always next time, he guessed.
"I've been cooped up in my office for too long," he muttered to himself, standing from his desk and rolling down the sleeves of his shirt. "I need some coffee, been a while since I had any." Buttoning down his vest, he combed back his hair, reaching for the coat rack and slipping on his overcoat. Not forgetting his tasteful fedora, he took another drag from his cigarette before snuffing it in the ash tray he kept on his desk, before taking another one out from his pocket.
He'd suck on it for now, and light it when he actually got to the cafe.
.......
It had been a quick drive for him, pulling into the parking lot in his Bentley Continental GT Convertible. He stepped out, and sauntered up the front entrance.
"Mochavine Bar and Cafe, huh? Interesting..."
Strolling to the bar, he placed a hand on the counter.
"I'll take a coffee. Tall. Black. No cream or sugar."
Oliver took a drag of his cigarette, lifting up a photograph of a young woman who had came to him for a prior case, blowing smoke across the faded film. Such a young woman, with her curly brown locks and tender gaze that captured the soul with cognac colored eyes. He couldn't forget her, how she'd been looking for her boyfriend who had gone missing for a week after leaving for a fishing trip. He had just vanished, never returning her texts, all calls going to voicemail.
The detective thought it was the first of something serious in his long career of private investigation, getting his hopes up in preparation of what he thought would be a defining moment in his career. Yet, like so many cases before it, it resulted only in disappointment.
It turns out the boyfriend has sent his sweetheart and email stating he was in the next town, forgetting his phone charger and forgetting to call her on a payphone just outside the hotel he was staying at. Oliver had wasted his time over a lady who didn't check her emails, with the only thing bearing fruit of his efforts was an adequate sum of Yen with a USD equivalent of five hundred US dollars.
He took another drag of his cigarette.
Another dame he remembered due to her stupidity.
Ah well, there was always next time, he guessed.
"I've been cooped up in my office for too long," he muttered to himself, standing from his desk and rolling down the sleeves of his shirt. "I need some coffee, been a while since I had any." Buttoning down his vest, he combed back his hair, reaching for the coat rack and slipping on his overcoat. Not forgetting his tasteful fedora, he took another drag from his cigarette before snuffing it in the ash tray he kept on his desk, before taking another one out from his pocket.
He'd suck on it for now, and light it when he actually got to the cafe.
.......
It had been a quick drive for him, pulling into the parking lot in his Bentley Continental GT Convertible. He stepped out, and sauntered up the front entrance.
"Mochavine Bar and Cafe, huh? Interesting..."
Strolling to the bar, he placed a hand on the counter.
"I'll take a coffee. Tall. Black. No cream or sugar."
