(Untitled)

[simon_doctor]

[FOR THE RECORD: this is totally AU and not in any continuity whatsoever. I was talking with the mun about various and sundry canons, and this possibility came up, and we both thought it might be interesting (a phrase which here means "jumped at it like a shot"). No animals were harmed in the making of this thread. If symptoms persist, consult

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[still_a_cop]

Charlie Crews has a briefcase, and that briefcase is locked.

He settles at a table on the other side of the room. The briefcase goes flat on the table.

Charlie Crews regards the briefcase.

[walk_ins]

The man -- we might as well call him a man, at least until we have a better term to use -- the man in the yellow coat takes a gulp of his drink.

He's not looking at Charlie Crews.

Probably not.

[still_a_cop]

Twenty minutes pass.

Charlie Crews reaches out and dials up a combination.

The briefcase clicks open.

Out of the briefcase come pictures -- 8x12 photographs of nothing.

Well, that's not true; they're all apartments. Some are neater than others. All show signs of being very lived in.

Charlie Crews lays them out side by side and stands with his hands at his sides.

Charlie Crews regards the pictures.

[walk_ins]

The man hasn't moved from where he's sitting in the meantime, except to order another of whatever it is he's drinking. It arrives steaming, dark as his eyes, and he takes an easy swallow of it without waiting for it to cool.

(The waitrats are giving his table a wide berth, except when he raises a hand to summon one.)