Snippet #2361507

After a bit more hustle and bustle, or what the officers called "protocol," Kaz drew Grant aside and squinted into his eyes curiously, indeed seeing shock and confusion, but the underlying Viren inside. Not liking this stage, Kaz kept his mouth shut about it, not wanting to scare Grant either and simply asked, "Did you receive a letter this morning?"

**

Winader Bus Station. Hopping out and tossing the loose end of his scarf over his shoulder, the newcomer breathed in the air, not exactly fresh, and readjusted his thin black bag on his shoulder. Usually he contacted who he wanted to find beforehand. Made things easier, but interacting with a Keeper these days had to be handled with care.

Especially this one.

Brushing a lock of white-blonde hair aside, Viktor blinked his deep green eyes once and took out his GPS briefly to guide him in the right direction. If he was correct, the Keeper was staying in a bar. So Viktor found a motel just across the way and strolled his way there with a lean grace. It took an hour, but walking always suited Viktor because his thoughts ran on a constant rhythmic beat anyway. Beat. Beat. Beat. And walking provided a counterpart, a way to play with the constant metronome inside his head.

Once the room was paid for, Viktor waited, laptop up and eyes trained out the window to the bar across the street. He would give it a day. If he didn't see the Keeper, he would look elsewhere.

Viktor sniffed at a small bag of fries he had purchased earlier that day. Where he came from, such fried foods weren't allowed. He tasted one, winced, but ate another. Then tried the red ketchup sauce. Strange, but not bad.

He put his boots up on the opposite chair, green gaze fixed on the bar between the slits of his blinds.