RockXIII Decembre 16th, 2009
Wehc moved in to pull the Aspects off of each other. The last thing he wanted was anybody getting hurt in his presence. "Alright, alright, break it up, you two."
Daebi was currently on top of Jiritina, attempting to yank out her... could it really be called hair? Well he grasped Daebi's arms tightly as he tugged her away from her cousin. She couldn't help but notice that he was a bit strong for a man of his age, especially an obese one at that. She resisted for a moment before completely giving in to Wehc, as was seated into a plush chair right beside the elevator.
"Now, now, sweetheart. Just calm down."
Daebi's head nearly snapped to face Wehc before blushing. Did he just call her "sweetheart"?
Wehc turned to Jiritina and limped towards her; his hip was acting up for some reason, surely a sign that old age was settling in. He was now leading her to the other plush chair opposite of Daebi, saying, "Now, don't you be attacking her, just let it go."
"But," she stammered. "But she threatened the life of-"
Wehc, patting her cheek lightly, gently said, "Hush, dear. Just take deep breaths and look away from her."
She didn't know why, but Jiritina was now blushing and a bit confused. Was he playing them? Was he really a card that wanted a good time? She thought on it for a minute, looking away from Daebi like Wehc told her to, and came up with the answer that he was trying to soften them up so that he could get answers more easily, but he also seemed to care that whether they were happy or not, or perhaps women in general? Flattery did work, though she did not know how often. Maybe it was one of his morals/ ideals to keep women happy?
When she looked back at him, he had already pulled up a chair and was jotting down notes in the "Interviews" notebook. It was a handsome, medium-sized moleskin notebook that had multiple sticky notes sticking out of it, saying something among the lines of "Really important" or "Best of 1979". When she looked at his writing hand, she could tell that his writing style was different than most peoples'; he didn't "draw" with his fingers, but rather moved his arm as a whole, and his pen was in between his forefinger and middle finger. He was old-styled, to say at the most.
He looked up from his paper and looked between the two Aspects. "So. Let's begin, shall we?" he said.
He turned to Daebi first, knowing full well that she would be easiest to gain information from. He also liked her a considerable amount more. "Now, are there any articles in the papers concerning high-rank members of Rocket Logistics? Preferably Rowan?"
"Some of them," she answered. "It was not in the papers, but I know that Rowan was in Towan, looking for something, but I'm not sure what."
Wehc nodded, taking extra care not to miss any detail, though there was hardly anything to miss. He also took care to write this in a special alphabet that only he knew, just in the case that it was stolen and was attempted to be read by prying eyes. Every last single word down, got it, was his basic thought. He looked up at Daebi once more
"Next question: what illegal activities of Rocket Logistics have been blamed on Team Temporal?"
Daebi hung her head. "Many, unfortunately. Mainly involving the bombings of Rocket Logistics buildings and a few murders, though not many. You surely must know more than half of the blamings?"
Wehc nodded. "Yes. All the way up to December fourth."
Now Wehc turned to Jiritina, who was shifting around in her chair glaring at Daebi, who was now glaring her in return. "Please, stop it, the two of you," he said a bit sternly. Reluctantly, they did so, both pouting. He continued, "Now, Miss Jiritina, is there anything that you would like to add or say?"
He knew perfectly well that he would have to give her something important to him, or something sentimental, or perhaps just a random object, but something that belonged to him nonetheless. He would probably try to bargain with her depending on the importance of the information that she would tell him, but if the information proved to be so important that he MUST get it, he would pay with the most valuable thing that he had: A note to his friends in the Mafia saying that he had given Jiritina permission to use whatever money he had put in their personal banks on whatever they had to offer.
After all, this battle between Team Temporal and Rocket Logistics had become a political battle; weapons would be meaningless in the "battleground".