She moved the salad around the big shallow bowl, finding the usual greek salad fair, plus the surprise of cucumbers. With a small lift her he eyebrow she took a bit. It was superb, but then the food here always was. She took the time to think while she chewed.
"At this point I am almost positive you know more than the police. As to if my story is real or just a cover for some wild party, well Mr. Evans I am not going to defend myself. I do not lie. I have not told you anything but the truth today. The only thing I'm covering is my rescuer's identity. I think even you will agree that everyone is allowed anonimity from time to time."
She took another bite of her salad, the chicken had been grilled over some kind of smokey wood and was a lovely fit with the tangy lemony salad. It really was odd to be omitting a few things, but she'd be damned if she was the one to blow the lid on the Kin, it wasn't her place and it just might get her hunted and killed.
She leaned forward, her grass green eyes staring deep into Kyle's. "I can damn well garuntee that I would rather have had a party get out of hand than have this psycopath stalking me. I fear for my life, and the lives of the people I love. You will not know his name from me."
Cheetos, Lies and Video Tape
Kyle dug his hand into a bag of cheetos. As a recovering, strung out alcoholic, his addiction to alcohol has been replaced with another oral fixation.
Eating. A lot.
He leaned foward and grabbed another handful of cheetos as he read over the morning copy of the Times, specifically his second page (inward cringe) piece on Marthinus T. Steyn's collaspe. He figured it was better to not have it featured blatantly on the front page. Less attention for Steyn, less attention for Kyle. He shuddered as he thought of the woman he fondly refers to as Shera.
A stray cheeto fell to the floor causing Kyle quickly to bend over and pick it up before the 5 second rule ran out. Popping it into his mouth, he noticed the email notification icon on his desktop computer was blinking. With orange fingers, Kyle opened up the email.
****
From: (unknown)
Topic: Gothic-ah murders.
Attachment: murder.avi (86.3mb)
To Kyle Evans of the Nachton Times
It may be of interrest to you to hear the police have received new evidence in the Gothic-ah murders. A security tape has appeared, that was overlooked at first. The tape is attached.
Enjoy
****
'Whee,' Kyle said as he clicked onto the attachment and started to watch the video. The video was clear but the angle left very little to be desired. It showed a man and a woman. The images start to blur a little as the female starts to attack and apparently kill the guards. Probably due to the quality of the video.
Kyle tilted his head, trying to make out what she was doing to the guards but it was clear that they were dead or dying. However, at the end of the video, their faces are clear enough to get a print image, which is what Kyle does.
Leaning over to his right, he watches the printer spit out the screenshot of the male and female assailants. 'Fun, fun,' Kyle said. He would contact the paper's IT department to see if he could trace the email, but he wasn't expecting any interesting results from that.
'Gothic-ah,' he said slowly and googled the name on his computer. 'Ooh,' he said. A fetish store. That should be interesting. Kyle made a mental note to check out the lead as he ate another cheetos.
Meegan
18 years ago
Kyle Evans
18 years ago
Kyle had inhaled his lunch and was quite happy now. 'Alright then, Miss Masters'. He stood as he wiped his mouth with his napkin. 'Then that's that. I have your story, now I'll fish around and see what else I can find.'
With a nod to the butler, Kyle dug out a twenty and a ten dollar bill. 'Thank you for the invite to lunch, this should cover my portion.' Kyle felt it necessary to cover his lunch. He didnt like being indebt to anyone. Taking a moment, he looked over the fetish store owner and grinned. 'I'll be in touch if I have any further questions and you know how to get a hold of me.'
With a slight bow he walked away from the table.
((Kyle out, pending response))
With a nod to the butler, Kyle dug out a twenty and a ten dollar bill. 'Thank you for the invite to lunch, this should cover my portion.' Kyle felt it necessary to cover his lunch. He didnt like being indebt to anyone. Taking a moment, he looked over the fetish store owner and grinned. 'I'll be in touch if I have any further questions and you know how to get a hold of me.'
With a slight bow he walked away from the table.
((Kyle out, pending response))
Meegan
18 years ago
Why on God's green earth was she suddenly mad at this guy. She knew. It was because no one had ever dared just walk away from her like that. She didn't take being treated in such a fashion well, but this was not the time or place to make a scene about it. She took a deep breath, picked up the bills, shoved them in her pocket, and took more out of her purse. She paid for their meal, stood and left the restraunt.
She asked Jeeves if he had an envelope, which, of course, he did. She pulled Kyles money out of her poket, shoved it in the envelope and wrote his name and the adress of the Times building on it. She took the stamp Jeeves offered and stuck it to the upper corner. Turning the envelpoe over she signed her name, and stuck the thing in the bistro's mail box, and tugged up the flag.
"I hate reporters." She mumbled, and entered the door held open for her. It had been childish and petty to return his money to him, but it made her feel better. Well it would for about twenty minutes, at which time she might be calling the bistro and have them take it out of the box, but it would beher luck it would be picked up by then. She sighed deeply and slid down in the seat, arms across her belly.
"Home, please."
((Meegan Out))
She asked Jeeves if he had an envelope, which, of course, he did. She pulled Kyles money out of her poket, shoved it in the envelope and wrote his name and the adress of the Times building on it. She took the stamp Jeeves offered and stuck it to the upper corner. Turning the envelpoe over she signed her name, and stuck the thing in the bistro's mail box, and tugged up the flag.
"I hate reporters." She mumbled, and entered the door held open for her. It had been childish and petty to return his money to him, but it made her feel better. Well it would for about twenty minutes, at which time she might be calling the bistro and have them take it out of the box, but it would beher luck it would be picked up by then. She sighed deeply and slid down in the seat, arms across her belly.
"Home, please."
((Meegan Out))