Chapter 320: Chapter 320 - Wisdom Expects The Unexpected Fox
After hearing all about the details and getting a work order sent to my phone, Dave Morrison left. It is not like he has everything required to do this on that beat up old truck of his.
Sending it to Claire gets a line of messages back that ultimately end in her approving it. Which is to say, that she is capable of leveraging her abilities and position in order to nullify the lead times on the components he marked as ’need to order’.
> Two days for delivery so he can start getting to work on this is better than a minimum of two weeks. <
Pacing around for a while, the thought of leaving the empty container with all my belongings just squirreled away elsewhere in this building does... agitate me. It is one thing to place it down temporarily - with the knowledge that I could come pick everything up all at once in a hurry.
"The times I did so far, just so I’d have the Stash ability free, were already mildly nerve wracking."
Staying in this warehouse all day won’t solve anything. My body is craving more food than I’d given it again. Not to mention, I’m feeling a little annoyed that my apartment feels off limits to me as well.
I might as well take a walk through the city to ease my nerves. The fact that whoever was responsible for me feeling this way has to stoop to traps tells me they are frightened of direct confrontation... at least with Kyrie Voss.
⧖ ☾ ❄ ☽ ⧖
Ending up in the vicinity of Anise and Edgar’s apartment building felt like the natural outcome, to me. With food in my stomach and looking to get things done instead of wallowing, I could of course do nothing but bask in the idea of ’sickness’.
The seamstress herself was at her boutique, as evidenced by where the system map had her marker. But the blind old man was in the building I once saw that same drunken lady enter.
"So now I’m the stalker. Should have gotten his phone number at some point. Hells, I should have just asked Claire."
However, much like my reliance on parts of the system... relying on that woman’s assistant so much is beginning to feel like a crutch. More importantly, I’m sure I would have wanted to come see how he is doing for myself.
> No, it is not to gather some sage advise about what is going on lately - I got enough of that from the witch. Yes, I know I claimed that I prefer more transactional relationships whenever possible. <
Vrika is digging into my trail of choices because it thinks I left the Alpha ’alone’ only to come to the city and visit other people. It’s not entirely untrue, so I have no strong recourse other than to tell the spirit trying to act as a second conscience to simply... shut up.
Walking over to the door reminds me that this is another secure building. Though, having had at least two werewolves waltz up to my own door does make me wonder how they pulled it off.
It could be they waited for someone else entering or exiting and plunged through... but that does seem quite suspicious and not the way I think Luca would operate - for as much as I truly know him. However, this electronic panel over here gives me more context.
A digitized directory list and intercom system. Well, if this was the first time I was using technology I might be intimidated, but I feel quite at ease trying to use it to find Edgar Miles. Quickly I realize they are alphabetized and listed by last name first.
But even when I get to the M’s... I see nothing at all.
> Was I wrong? Is this not his- no, he is clearly at this building right now according to the system. It could be that the apartment is not registered in his name or a false name... or maybe there is some option for not being listed? <
He seems quite like an open and sociable person each time I’ve met him, but that certainly is while out and about. Privacy at home might be quite important to anyone. Let alone an elderly man who may not want to be contacted by strangers he isn’t sure he can trust.
Drumming my fingers on the wall, I go back and find the button meant to contact the apartment’s ’concierge’. I’d only briefly talked to mine, once. The woman was a little cool and unfriendly - plus I hadn’t needed anything at the time other than for her to explain what exactly I could use her for.
"Front desk, how may I help you?"
"Hi there, I came here to see someone, but he doesn’t appear to be in the directory and I never got his number. I’m not sure what to do."
"Some residents prefer to be unlisted, Miss. Please tell me the resident name, your name, and if he is expecting you?"
This man, at least, sounds a little bit warmer over the intercom. Professional but not suspicious. Of course, I’m not pestering him about the rules of pool access after ignoring all the ’help’ a concierge could be if needed.
"His name is Edgar Miles. He shouldn’t be expecting me, but my name is Citra Lomdi. If you could tell him that-"
"Oh. So you are Ms. Lomdi. Sorry to interrupt, but I’m just a little surprised to hear from the person... who I added on the same morning recently to *three* different resident’s permitted guest list. I’ll still call ahead and make sure he wants to receive a visitor today."
The same day? Was it after the night I followed Anise home? I suppose if he understands I now know where he lives, it is something he... might consider.
However, this is still more example of how the people of this world seem to take to trusting me too easily. Also, three? Him, Anise... and... oh. That’s right. Mira Thornfield.
> She actually allowed me to be a guest the day after I scared her with blabbering too much information about a ’situation’ with another pack’s Alpha that she didn’t want to be in the middle of? ...What is wrong with her? <
My wolf concurs - though it would agree for me to stay away from any woman werewolf, as if that is my exact ’strike zone’ - barking fiercely in my mindscape... which itself still has not settled on anything great.
Currently, I’ve been letting the spirit wander the halls of a reproduction of the royal court. Which is only just a little better than the forest I arrived here in - or the caves I used to hide in. But I simply cannot bring myself to build that rooftop garden scene, as nice as it was.
"Maybe I’m feeling I don’t deserve the nice things so much. Not while someone else can’t enjoy them..."
"Ms. Lomdi? He’s in Apartment 7G. I’m buzzing you in now. The elevators are to your left."
A soft but audible click comes from the door lock, so I move quickly to open it. I learned already with the phone app that the timeout for these ’auto-locks’ to reset can be quite sudden - which is annoying if you have groceries you are trying not to drop.
> Ah. I just realized I’ve come empty handed... <