#mike001

It was something of a tradition on Sunday mornings - church and then breakfast afterwards at the Four Seasons. It wasn’t exactly the ideal way to spend his mornings, but he would grin and bear it through a plate of lemon ricotta pancakes and a few cups of coffee before he was on his way again, hopefully not having to face Michael until the next week.

But he was only halfway through his first cup of coffee, holding it tight between his palms as he tried to think about what exactly he could say. “The vote for the Disarmament Bill is coming up next week, I’ve been kind of swamped with all that,” he offered, like his father wan’t probably painfully aware of anything and everything to do with the bill. “Maybe once all this is done I can finally come and have dinner like Mama wanted last weekend. I hate to keep on disappointin’ her.”

with @mikethompson​

Despite popular belief, Seungho did have some idea of new developments that happened in the town. He was socially awkward and lost in his head, but living at the Mermaid Inn had the unexpected perk of being a bit of a hub for gossip. So he knew someone at some point had gotten sick with something in the past however long. He was never good with remembering details, especially second hand. But he wasn’t just going to let this happen. He’d been busy all morning, going back and forth between the Ocean’s Farmhouse and his room only to emerge with his arms overflowing with thermoses. Right a bag would make this easier. Re-emerging moments later now wielding a tote bag overflowing with thermoses, he set out to look for a victim, no test subject, wrong again, volunteer.

There is no concern for poverty when it came to the actions of the renown forger as he saunters about the bustling streets. Fingers are expeditious accompanied by a gentle bump -- a distraction -- as apologies are briefly exchanged. Unbeknownst was the mark who wanders off as digits thumb through the leather bound object, nosing through their current cash and plastic cards. Nothing of interest seizes his attention, pivoting swiftly upon his heel to return the item as if they had dropped it. For it was not theft he was after, merely something to stave off boredom for the time being.

Thus the cycle continues, this time with a brunette which azure hues rest on momentarily. One step shifts, their shoulders colliding briefly enough to relocate his attention from the swipe of his wallet. He waits patiently before once more opening to inspect the contents inside, sifting through pockets until a certain identification card freezes his very movements. Sliding it up, he reads through it... only to feel a twinge of homesickness permeate through his chest at the discovery.

It is within this moment he turns so he might trot in efforts to catch up to the other with bubbling anticipation to converse with him. His approach is not akin to how he might have done if heeding the exact method to garner this intelligence. Vocables call out with a quick 'Hey!' alongside the raise of his hand, halting his strides once he arrives to his destination.