Private RP between NorthernSoul & I.
October 12th, 1892. London, England.
October 12th, 1892. London, England.
Gloomy and musky, those were the only two words to explain the way the atmosphere around James felt. It would very well be a result of the unpleasant news he's been informed with, but then again, entire areas of London felt as if a blanket of black smoke has been laid over the once dazzling, elegant city. This was in James' opinion, there is no doubt that the revolution was a good thing, but it was dirty and sickly. There's just no feel good remedy for an atmosphere that is almost dominating. The man lived on the outskirts of London, so the atmosphere was minimal. He hardly felt the pity for men and women wandering the streets in search for work; he always believed he need not worry himself with other people's problems. Especially strangers. It wasn't an issue of cold-heartedness, well, maybe it was. Though he was convinced that it was bad for the soul to be associated with people of bad luck.
Currently, though, the man was surrounded by bad luck. He had just buried his older brother, spent the last couple of nights comforting his sister-in-law, and spending time with the kids. That wasn't on the agenda this October. He's spoken to John's solicitor, worked out all the papers. Now the only thing he needed to do was head to the Mill. It wasn't required for him to do because the law will take care of whatever happened there, but James was as much doubtful of the law as John was.
Drawing his coat tighter around his chest, James entered the heavily scented Mill. The expression of distaste was so powerful, he wondered if he should cover his jaw with his palm. He didn't have to, before long, he was directed into the small office room that John would have ruled in. There was a Law officer and a forensic detective already standing in there. Without shame, they were commenting on John's strange collections. Apparently, they hadn't noticed James walk in with John's solicitor.
James cleared his throat, causing the detective to turn around abruptly, his heavily furrowed brows almost masking the indifference in his eyes. "Mr. Worthing, I do believe, has finally decided to join us," Mr. Jenkins, the detective exclaimed to the law officer, clearly mocking the late arrival and the clear situation of this meeting. James, after all, could be a suspect, but there were no clear indications, and as others would mention, James and John did get along quite well.
"Mr. Keith," Jenkins shook the solicitors hand, having been in acquaintance before. The lanky, shy man, only nodded in response, speaking after a tense silence.
"I-if you don't mind, Detective, Mr. Worthing has requested for a tour of his brother's Mill," Mr. Keith stuttered, his beady eyes jumping from Jenkins to the officer.
"Oh, of course. Do take your time," Jenkins let out an exasperated sigh, patting his broad waist.
"If it is such an inconvenience for you, Detective, I suggest you return tomorrow. I've no time for sarcasm games," James spoke up, his irritated eyes fixated right on Jenkins' indifferent ones.
"It is no inconvenience, we can wait," Jenkins replied, the sarcasm knocked from his breath. With those words, both Mr. Keith and James left the small room to make a round throughout the Mill. There was an unpleasant feeling in James' gut as he watched all the laborers bustle around. It was almost as if he felt pity.
Currently, though, the man was surrounded by bad luck. He had just buried his older brother, spent the last couple of nights comforting his sister-in-law, and spending time with the kids. That wasn't on the agenda this October. He's spoken to John's solicitor, worked out all the papers. Now the only thing he needed to do was head to the Mill. It wasn't required for him to do because the law will take care of whatever happened there, but James was as much doubtful of the law as John was.
Drawing his coat tighter around his chest, James entered the heavily scented Mill. The expression of distaste was so powerful, he wondered if he should cover his jaw with his palm. He didn't have to, before long, he was directed into the small office room that John would have ruled in. There was a Law officer and a forensic detective already standing in there. Without shame, they were commenting on John's strange collections. Apparently, they hadn't noticed James walk in with John's solicitor.
James cleared his throat, causing the detective to turn around abruptly, his heavily furrowed brows almost masking the indifference in his eyes. "Mr. Worthing, I do believe, has finally decided to join us," Mr. Jenkins, the detective exclaimed to the law officer, clearly mocking the late arrival and the clear situation of this meeting. James, after all, could be a suspect, but there were no clear indications, and as others would mention, James and John did get along quite well.
"Mr. Keith," Jenkins shook the solicitors hand, having been in acquaintance before. The lanky, shy man, only nodded in response, speaking after a tense silence.
"I-if you don't mind, Detective, Mr. Worthing has requested for a tour of his brother's Mill," Mr. Keith stuttered, his beady eyes jumping from Jenkins to the officer.
"Oh, of course. Do take your time," Jenkins let out an exasperated sigh, patting his broad waist.
"If it is such an inconvenience for you, Detective, I suggest you return tomorrow. I've no time for sarcasm games," James spoke up, his irritated eyes fixated right on Jenkins' indifferent ones.
"It is no inconvenience, we can wait," Jenkins replied, the sarcasm knocked from his breath. With those words, both Mr. Keith and James left the small room to make a round throughout the Mill. There was an unpleasant feeling in James' gut as he watched all the laborers bustle around. It was almost as if he felt pity.
