- Thu Jun 01, 2017 3:41 pm
Tristan wasn't interested in anything else as he waited, impatiently, for his contact Welsh to respond. He had a pen in his hand, one he fetched from the flat of the table and began tapping it on the wood surface. He sat, cross-legged, slouched against the side of his chair as he beat a steady, anxious rhythm. Then his phone vibrated once more with a chime, and he dropped the writing utensil quickly, replacing it with the mobile device that had just came to life.
He received the file in his emails and a response soon after.
Matthew Cox... Marine...Devil...
"WHAT?!" He exclaimed. It took him a while to chew on that first bit. Both names common, and together, probably common still, but...what were the odds? Was this the same Matthew Cox from his company? Tristan felt his heart sink. He thought his brother was dead. They declared him dead a long time ago--that is, if it was indeed the same person. And he was the Devil of Judgment, to boot? This, the same vigilante scumbag who had been traipsing all over his plans with King for weeks?
Larson and Cox are both being held in the department.
Of all the things he had to put up with in the magical realm, maybe it was just time for Tristan to deal with ghosts. Larson was the next one on the list. Again, another fairly common surname, but things were coincidentally falling together and he started to feel sick. Could it be...Coraline? After all these years searching for her in his off-time, he finally had that name surface and it made the hairs on his arms and neck stand on end. If these two were indeed the people of his past, Tristan not only needed to see them at once, but he had a hundred questions swimming through his mind. The hows and whys, the wheres and whens...
Tristan reached for his drink, a nice tumbler of scotch, he pulled a heavy amount from it and set it down again.
The last part. The Agent, the ex-girlfriend's name Bauer was familiar, but he didn't know any Katarina. It'd take him a while to figure out just where he'd heard that name from, but that was simply because he needed to earmark this revelation for now. He would need time to wrap his mind around all of this, but he knew he had to come up with a plan.
[Over and out.] That was Tristan's way of saying thank you to his contact and that he would be in touch. There was too much to consider here, too much to flip through before more questions could be sent over to Welsh.
In a sudden fit of rage, Tristan grabbed his glass, and threw it at the opposite wall. How is this even possible!?