wilbur cross.

She isn't blind to the way his hand brushes her neck in passing as he returned to his seat, perfectly painted lips twitching upwards into a soft little smirk. This man? He knew what he wanted. He carried an air about him that was magnetic to her own. There was something about him she wanted to dig her manicured claws into. To rip apart and learn about. "Well, I'm okay with keeping one thing short between us, if you catch my drift," she hummed, lips pursing back into their resting smirk. "I do think you're incredibly attractive, and I feel as though I would have noticed you long before today if I had seen you around before..."

"Oh, I believe I do, Mrs. Monroe," he murmurs, settling into his chair in a way that he was leaning back into it. He has a leg stretched out beside the chair, boot dangerously close to her own shoes. His other staying planted firmly on the ground as he pushes his hands into the pockets of his jacket. He licks over his lower lip as she mentions having not noticed him around town before and he gives a nod, "That would make sense."

He lifts a brow, a curios expression befalling him despite her statements and own curiosity of him, "I'm passing through... making a pitstop to be more exact. I got some things to settle here in Hatchetfield. Don't know how long that's going to take, but I wouldn't mind the company of knowing someone beyond those I need to seek out."

It's too cold to be out without a jacket, and even without looking directly at the apple the shade of green is so saturated it makes her head hurt. Maybe if he was only strange she would have left it at that, an anomaly. Hatchetfield is strange, and it would not be the first incident of strangeness that the girl turned her head away from whether at Webby's behest or her own. But he knows her name, and he knows Webby.

Something in her gut twists violently as she forces herself to look at him directly. Never in the eye, but taking him in more directly in spite of his wrongness. Even as she knows better than to engage, she can't help it, tugged by the invisible string of curiosity. "...how do you know my name?"

He chuckles low at the mention of her stating she didn't speak to strangers. Good practice. Nothing is said on it, instead he lets her stew a moment with her thoughts before turning his own head after she's already looking at him. how do you know my name? Another chuckle, quiet and absent of any humor. He turns the apple over in his hand, but doesn't look at her. Instead he continues to admire the green shinning skin of the fruit, contemplating whether he wants to use his teeth of a knife to cut into it. But as he debates, he does speak up, low and crooning with his accent, "Oh, I know a whole lot of nothing and plenty about you, Hannah."

The contradiction of the statement was meant to draw her curiosity, but he continues to not look at her. Doesn't stop him from running his mouth, something he's very good at doing, "I know you got a friend you call Webby... I know she makes you feel safe, protected, like she could share wonders of the world with ya." He tosses the apple up only to catch it with the opposite hand so he could bring his now free one to his jacket's pocket. He reaches in, focuses, then withdraws a pocketknife that he flicks open, "She says something great is coming or something terrible. Warns you about nightmare time and its inevitability here in Hatchetfield."

He presses the blade of the knife to the apple and easily slices through it, cutting off a small piece, "So how 'bout rather than assume I'm a stranger... consider me... an acquaintance." Pause, eyes flicking to her from the corners as he keeps his head pointed forward and slightly down, "Or would you feel better with titles that you've given to Webby?"

getting home late and arriving to work early has become a constant in solomon's life. there's nothing for him at home , not really. the only times it matters is when he has to remind his foolish offspring that she can't just do whatever she pleases. that actions have consequences -- as so piss poor grades. if it were up to him , he would never leave his office , never lay in an empty bed and be forced to be alone with his regrets thoughts. unfortunately , keeping appearances include the facade of a well rounded family man. usually , he finds himself waking up at his desk at home , piles of papers as pillows and half a dozen files open behind his locked computer screen. this particular morning , he'd woken with a start , nearly tipping over in his leather bound , and realized that his usual morning call from miss tessburger hadn't come. he must have forgotten , the previous night , to account for her alleged "illness."

Wilbur knew well enough that the mayor could call on security at the drop of a hat, but he wasn't worried. He knew his presence would be intriguing alone and he knew that he was about to spark interest. Maybe some fear and anxiety, but he wasn't here to toy or play games. He wanted to know what Solomon knew about the Book beyond its use he'd had of it. He needed to know if anyone else ever knew of the book. Perhaps it would come off as obsessed, but was he not? In the wrong hangs-- like a certain witch.... that book could be powerful against his Gods. He had to find it and he would take it by force if he had to.

He waits for the mayor to take a seat, eyes locked on the man as he watches him a moment. He chuckles lowly, "Oh, I'm not someone who is lookin' to cast their approval for you into a hat." He didn't care if that hurt his chances, he wanted to be pointed, "Let's just say I was sent by someone who knows quite a lot about you, Mr. Mayor. Someone who knows your deepest of secrets and rather misses your loyalty and sacrifices." His smile stays transfixed to his face almost venomously like a snake waiting to attack, "Y'see, Mr. Mayor, I'm lookin' for somethin' I know you had last in this here town. A book and I don't have to tell you the name of it for you to know which one I speak of, especially after mentioning my friendy-wend."

linda's marriage was . . . complicated. she and gerald had been open for a while, and it seemed to work fairly well for them. they had their fun in opposite directions with partners of their choosing. and for a while, it felt like they were each other's central ground. she hadn't spoken of the distance she had felt lately, and certainly not to her father, no. she didn't need him to poke and prod at any potential failures she might accrue. she was not a fucking failure. but this man? this tall drink of water with a drawl? well, he certainly could be another name in her little black book.

a smirk climbed across painted lips as he pressed a kiss against her knuckles, lips ghosting against her soft skin. oh, he knew what he was about. as her hand slipped from his, she cleared her throat, gaze dropping to the pushed in chair across from him before flicking to his expectantly. he was a southern gentleman after all, was he not?

She clears her throat and glances from him to the chair and he can't help the small chuckle that bubbles up his chest, low and amused. He licks over his bottom lip in thought about it before giving a roll of his shoulders and rising to stand. He towers over her as he does so, pausing to take that into account before moving to step around her-- frame brushing to hers. A hungry desire starts to bubble through him at the smell of her overly priced perfume, the scent running its way up his nose and down his spine. He knew she'd be wearing something, but it felt almost instant how it consumed him and only enticed him further. He wasn't going to sidestep that thought. He knew what this was about to be, he knew the potential this conversation and meeting could carry.

He steps behind the chair opposite of the one he'd been sitting in, his hands drop to the back of it and he pulls it out with a slight turn in order for her to sit. He waits a beat as she does so, giving her time to adjust before aiding in pushing the chair back in some. His hands leave the back of the chair, but one grazes against her neck and the softness triggers that hunger again. He chuckles low to himself then moves back to his own chair, lowering into it then quirking a brow at her, "I get the feelin' we aren't conversin' just for the fun of it."

He was in Hatchetfield for this very reason, meeting and learning about Hannah Foster. He knew her sister was also powerful, but she wasn't nearly as knowing about what laid in her mind. Hannah though? Hannah knew she was special... strange perhaps, but special. She had a power like none other in Hatchetfield and there were plenty of kids her age that held similar abilities. They weren't exactly like hers, but they were special too and they were hidden away deep within the bowels of this town. All of them paid to be quiet on the upside and fighters on the inside-- money that came from Charles Coven and his little fighting ring. It was cute, truly... the disgusting dogs of Hatchetfield watching as powerful teens fought to prove themselves better than the others. They were all betting pools of wealth, but Wilbur? He was there to understand and analyze... he had to know which of these children would be problems in the future. Spitfire. Sophia. She was someone to look out for and he'd had a long conversation with Charles about being mindful of how powerful she was. Charles had first tried to dismiss him, but... Wilbur pulling the very gun from inside the man's jacket without moving across the room had him listening. He made it clear to Charles that this playground of his was just that and eventually something else would come along, something far more powerful looking to take control of these children and their abilities. He told the CEO to watch himself and let popularity run wild amongst the teens, money and power... they'd behave until they were being swallowed by something otherworldly. It had sparked questions, but Wilbur just tossed the gun towards Charles and wished him a good day before taking his leave.

But again, those teens with their showmanship powers were nothing compared to the likes of the Foster girl. There was something about her that made his God angry and ready to fight. But they couldn't fight until they knew what they were up against... so here he was to bring Hannah to the very ring he found amusement in. Putting her in with those others would give him and Wiggog the ability to know what she was capable of. He just had to figure out his approach... but he knew the best way to. He knew how to get into her head with ease because there was already someone there... a White Goddess with a power to annoy and frustrate her brothers. He just had to be louder than Webby. So he approached the girl late in the evening as she waited at the bus stop, denim clad figure coming around to where he could take a seat on the opposite end of the bench. He watched quietly as she opened her eyes, glancing his way then past him at the schedule beside his head. He chuckles a low sound and shifts to lean back against the back of the bench. He kicks his legs out and crosses them at the ankle, hand sliding into his jean pocket and other reach into the interior of his jacket. There's a pause but then he's drawing out an apple, crisp and green.

"You're going to be waiting a while for that bus," Wilbur says calmly, eyeing the apple then brushing it against his abdomen to clean it slightly with his shirt. He brings it back up and sighs, "So why not tell me, Hannah, when the last time you spoke to her?" He flicks his eyes towards her, frown touching his lips.

it was a typical coffee and pastry date with her girls, women of hatchetfield's finest breeding that knew everything about every happening in town. they'd combine forces every so often to share other people's business and keep each other in the loop, and to be honest, it was the closest thing linda had to friends. did that mean she was immune to the gossip? not at all. they'd tear each other to shreds just as easily as anyone else should someone miss the meetings of the minds, but it was better to be a part of a group than none at all.

she had caught the eye of a handsome man from across the way and did a double take, a little smirk on her lips when their eyes made contact. he grabbed and held her attention, steering her away from the conversation before she spoke up.

" if you'll excuse me, ladies, " she hummed, grabbing her handbag and pushing herself up. it spurred questions, of course, those of which were answered as she crossed the way.

" i do believe you were staring, " she greeted the man with a smirk. " and i can hardly blame you for it. i'm linda monroe, and i don't believe i recognize you . . . and i know everyone in this town, " she mused as she lifted her hand to present it to him, showing off her delicately manicured nails and the flashy watch and rings she wore. " could i join you? "

Wilbur watched as she rose from her table of friends, not bothering to say anything beyond a dismissal of herself. It made him chuckle softly, gaze flickering over her frame and the way she walked so confidently towards him. It was attractive. He couldn't deny that. He may not be a man of emotion, but he was of natural desire and needs. He could admire and find a woman attractive, but it didn't mean he felt anything beyond that attraction... and right now... Wilbur would be lying if he said he wasn't interested in whatever she might be here to offer him. He'd been active here or there in fleeting moments since his disappearance into the portal, but it was never at the top of his priority list. Didn't mean he wasn't a fan of it-- who didn't like the idea of breaking tension within you and releasing with a rush of adrenaline? That wasn't to say he suspected Linda would offer him that, but with what information he'd gathered in just gazing at her... knowing what he knew from the whispers in his head. It wasn't out of the question that she wasn't about to offer her company to him beyond conversation.

She offers her hand towards him and he takes it with a crooked smirk, eyes casting a look of desire and admiration. She speaks easily and he reaches up, his own hand gently taking hers in order to lean forward and press a delicate barely there kiss to the knuckles above her ringed fingers. "It's Wilbur and I'd be honored." He releases her hand in order to hold his towards the empty chair opposite of the table he's sat at.