Jacob (aka Jay) "Hi Jay, am I glad to see you!" she said, choosing to ignore his question. "Been working on anything new?" "Not much, but I think you'll like this," Jay said, catching his bot out of mid-air and pressing a small button on it. The bot bleeped and a tiny light flashed three times, then a small hole opened and the camera poked out, but unlike its usual activity, it instead projected an image in the far wall, showing a recording of the last few seconds, "It will help me keep any details I don't remember, and if you lose something, you can just go back on the tapes to remember where it was. Pretty nifty eh?" A goofy grin split his face, and despite the grief hanging in the air he knew that he shouldn't feel guilty about it. Their father had been the kind of man to keep going even when things got hard, and Jay had to make sure that none of his kids ended up on the wrong path if he could help it.
Eddie Cartwright Eddie saw as more people had come over to where he was. This situation was the exact thing he was trying to avoid, being crowded by people he didn't know. He found this quite annoying and he did not appreciate the position he was in. He turned his back to the crowd with anguish. He then began to walk away from the crowd, his feet could be heard tapping against the floor strongly with every step. His fists could be seen clenching and his bot flew behind him, once again trailing him. Eddie soon spotted where his father had been sitting, and threw himself into the chair directly next to. Eddie sighed with furiosity and stared at the ceiling. Once he took his eyes of the ceiling he glanced over to his father. "This is a curve, but it is exactly what I expected." Eddie complained. He didn't want to offend Ruthie, but it was obvious she didn't remember him and then other people flooded quickly. Eddie was just compelled to get out of there. "Well, you never really knew his kids, you just knew Mr.Stanfield." Isaiah commented to Eddie. Eddie sat up, "I guess you're right, the only one I even remotely talked to was that dollface, Stella." he stated. "And she isn't even here." he continued. He was disappointed, but not surprised, he knew he wasn't gonna know anyone. "Just calm yourself son." Isaiah said to Eddie. The older man turned his head towards the seat his son was in but he had disappeared. When Isaiah spotted him, Eddie was near a group of carnies. Eddie stood there looking at them all but keeping his eyes on the gorilla. He smiled up at the group, hoping this could take his mind off things. "You guys are ace!" he said in a voice that seemed like he was a little too excited.
"You guys are ace!" he said in a voice that seemed like he was a little too excited. "We are what?" Kubi whispered to Raki her accent still rich. George huffed, "I do declare, I believe ace, is meant to be a compliment. Although I digress such an action should not be done here." he signed gruffly. "Don't make eye contact." Raki responded, "We don't want to draw anymore attention to our selfs." The two looked away but Kubi was curious about the compliment stared back at him. She waved and then thinking for a moment replied merily. "Thankyou, you are the ace too."
Eddie Cartwright "Thank you, you are the ace too." Eddie smiled at the little girl as the rest seemed to ignore him. Eddie put up his hand and waved as she walked away with her group. He then put his hand over his chin, thinking deeply. "Now, why would they bring such a sweet girl here? To a funeral. She doesn't need to see anyone in a chicago overcoat yet." he said to himself as they walked off. He didn't get as much fun out of them as he had hoped, but it was enough for now, at least he got to meet someone who was nice, though not very near his age. He began to walk away from the door, holding the straps of his Hollywood Slacks, until a cold breeze brushed up against his back. He tuned and noticed another person, he looked about Eddie's age, but Eddie didn't want to get to close to someone he didn't know, he waited to see what this guy was like, while walking back towards his dad.
Stella...is here. "Charlie, darling, how much longer?" "Lord knows, Miss Stanfield. This is preposterous. I can't see how a chap can get out alive in this madness." The middle-aged chauffeur said, catching her eye in the rear view mirror. She laughed in reply. "Don't be dingy Charlie. Chicago was and still is my home...my perfect home." Smacking her lips, Stella pocketed her lipstick in her carpetbag. The deep red stood out among her black attire, a sweetheart gown of luscious chiffon, accentuating her curves. To complete the ensemble, she had slept in rollers the night before. Turning towards the window of her white limousine, Stella's soft curls bounced lightly. Cars lined the streets bumper to bumper, headlights shining in the midst of the downpour. Through the sheets of rain, she recognized the area well. She and David used to go to the cinema nearby. Yes, she remembered those days fondly. Father would give them a dollar each to pay for the movie, leaving the remainder for them to buy any refreshments they desired. How sick they'd gotten the first time... Stella's smile disappeared with her thoughts of Father. The news of his murder hadn't come at the best time. Lester's call had cut through a rehearsal and conveniently her bot decided to give up on her again...for good. Her heart had nearly stopped, as she hadn't the connection to call back. She had never paid mind to memorize Lester’s number. Despite the fact, she knew she had to go to the funeral, no matter how pressing her work schedule. She'd never think to leave her family to deal with the issue alone. Father murdered. Who would want to harm him? Not a friend or acquaintance of course. Had Father been in a shady spot with a new company? Had he said or done something to receive such violence in return? A death didn't seem possible in her perfect life and she'd almost refused to believe it. But here she was going to her father's funeral, that is, if she made it before everyone left. "How much longer, Charlie?" Stella tried again. "Same, Miss Stanfield. Though in all honesty, the car in front of us is making me slightly...uncomfortable." "How so?" Stella leaned forward and peered around the drivers seat to see two silhouettes kissing. "Awww, how romantic!" Stella exclaimed. "Reminds me of playing a guest star role once. Oh yes, I loved that character...the drama!" Charlie rolled his eyes, but to his relief, a miracle happened. The congestion on the roads began to let up. "Finally!" Stella said, slumping back into her seat. She knew she must be an hour late, if not more. Oh well, her mother and siblings would have to understand. The limo turned down a few streets, until settling on a familiar one, the road to home. Soon the Stanfield mansion came into view and Charlie pulled into the drive. "This is the place, correct?" Stella sighed as she stared up at the mansion, her gaze landing on her high bedroom window. "The one and only." Charlie turned off the ignition and opened a front compartment, pulling out a black umbrella. Stella watched as he walked toward her door, "Shall I escort you, Madame?" he asked, offering a hand. Stella accepted and stepped under the umbrella, balancing on the concrete in her three-inch heels. She looked into the old man's green eyes, shaking her head. "I couldn't ask that of you, I will go on my own. Here--" She pulled out a wad of fifties from her carpetbag. "Go sightseeing, get a nice hotel. You can pick me up tomorrow." Charlie didn't argue and exchanged the umbrella for the cash. "My thanks to you Miss Stanfield and again, I give my condolences.” A smile spread across his wrinkled face and he winked. "Remember to behave, little Miss." "You bet I will," she replied, grinning back. With a graceful wave, Stella turned and walked up the steps to her home. Before long she was greeted by their butler, who took her bag and guided her to where the action was. Without hesitation, she glided through the crowd, head held high and bare shoulders back. Her made-up eyes scanned the room quickly and for the first time, saw the casket where her father lay. A closed casket. Slowly, she made her way to it, tears falling freely. She hadn’t cried much during the week, but now, it hit her deep. While being caught up in emotion, she didn’t notice the person walking in her path. And she didn’t notice her heel had snagged on her dress. Stella let out a surprised squeal as she tripped, arms flailing. The room spun as she smacked straight into the person in front of her. A young man, a family friend. Eddie Cartwright.
Eddie Cartwright Eddie had begun walking away from the door once again, thinking if he wanted to leave or not. Sure it would be crude, but he wasn't having a good time. Then again, being at a funeral, was that even possible? Anyway, Eddie began to make his way over to his overcoat and his Homburg hat. In the middle of his steps, the doors flew open once again, the room got a little more quiet after they opened, but he payed them no mind and just focused on the coat rack. He wasn't paying any attention to his surroundings. As Eddie was walking slowly letting his shoes tap the ground rhythmically, the beat was completely ruined. Someone was beginning to fall, he had no time to see who it was, he only saw a black dress out the corner of his eye, but he made a spontaneous move to interrupt the fall. He caught the damsel as his bot flew into his pocket. "Are you all right, doll? I didn't mean to cause you trouble, I am a bit whacky..." Eddie stopped himself, and he looked down at the woman's face. He saw a woman who was flooding with beauty, and was overwhelmingly attractive. He held her tight after noticing who she was. "Stella!"
Stella and Lester Stella took a deep breath as she regained her composure, looking towards the young man who had caught her fall. Her cheeks flushed in embarrassment when she recognized the boyish face. "Ah, Eddie...it's been awhile hasn't it?" She politely pulled away, readjusting her shoulder strap. "I apologize for my fumble there. Always been a bit clumsy." Her bubbly laugh echoed around the room, catching the attention of many. Unfortunately, that included her older brother. She heard Lester before she saw him. "Where have you been?" he said, not trying hard to conceal his anger. Stella turned, her blue eyes the picture of innocence. "Stuck in traffic, dear. It's nice to see you too." She flashed a teasing smile. With a scowl, Lester adjusted his tie. "You didn't care to give me notice? Or answer my calls? That one fault almost put a bad name on this family. " "It's out of my hands that my bot died," Stella said in defense. "It gave up when you called me the first time. Truly Lester, it was never my intention to arrive late. In fact, I hoped to be here yesterday." Her smile turned to a frown as the seriousness of the occasion dawned on her once again. Lester sighed. "Very well." In private he would push the matter further, but he had already caused a scene. Noticing Eddie for the first time since his encounter, he gave an awkward nod in his direction. "Hello, Ed."
Piper and Teddy: Meet the President of the Garden Club Teddy rolled his eyes as Stella made her grand appearance. The woman knew how to make an entrance, but she had about as much depth as a pie pan. He skillful balanced a small plate of lemon tarts and a cup of tea in his large hands, as he maneuvered through the throng. Some deeply ingrained instinct was warning him to get back to Piper as quickly as possible, not an easy feat considering the size of the crowd. The press of people was more than a little wearing. He was no more than halfway across the room when pudgy Mrs. Hilton came flying out of the library into the hall, her hands waving hysterically. "Ghost! Ghost in the library...!" She shrieked. "Miss Anne has returned to curse us all. Ghost!" She rushed from the hall into the heart of the throng still screaming in terror. "Flora. Come quick. Flora!" Teddy swallowed an oath, set aside the tea and plowed through the deepening mass of bodies. Fuming with indignation there were few people who had the courage to block his path now. The crowd parted around him like the Red Sea for Moses. He found Piper seated in one of the wing chairs, her face buried in her arms. Her shoulders were shaking violently. The professor saw red as he reached for Piper, swearing vengeance against the hag who had made her cry. He was taken aback when he saw her tears were the result of laughter, not anguish. More puzzled than angry now, he dropped into the chair next to her. "What the hell happened, Pippa?" At his furious look, Piper started laughing all over again. "I'm not quite...sure." She gasped out between bouts of mirth. "One minute I was alone...And the next...That woman was...calling me...Stella." Drawing a deep breath she struggled to regain a little composure. "I told her...She was mistaken and then suddenly she was screaming about a ghost." Teddy shoved a hand through his thick, unruly dark hair. His gaze strayed to the portrait over the mantle. "I don't suppose you happened to notice the picture above the fireplace." The dark curls shook gently. "No. Why?" "Just look, Pippa, and I think you'll understand." Obediently she looked up, her mouth forming a delicate O. Wearily he shoved to his feet and just as quickly pulled Piper to hers. "Hurry up. If we're lucky we'll make it out before Mrs. Stanfield sees you. We'll rejoin the group at the cemetery when things calm down." Much like a mother rushing her dawdling child to the bus, Teddy bundled Piper into the hall and went in search of their coats. Piper winced as Mrs. Hilton's hysterics continued to drown out any semblance of conversation..."Flora!" Taking advantage of her small size and a handy alcove, Piper melted into the shadows, wishing Teddy would move just a little faster.
David and Stella After everyone was out of the way including his other sibling. David decided to go see his sister. David's face was as calm as usual though anybody could catch some of the glints of happiness at seeing his twin sister in his eyes. How long had been now. Two years at least if anything he should of been angry. But David could never bring himself to hate Stella. And there she stood in all her glory the Hollywood actress. They came into this world together......in a way even before that. "Stella." He said quietly enough for her to hear. Stella turned her head. She'd recognize that voice anywhere, no matter how softspoken. Her blue eyes met their match as she looked towards him. "David? Oh how good it is to see you!" She flashed her smile, but it soon faded. The circumstances continued to weigh on her. "I'm truly sorry I wasn't here when...it happened. He forced a smile. "Its okay.....well...its not but you know what I mean." He continued. "We've always been busy none more then you. Dad was proud of you." He said with sad eyes as he put his hand on her shoulder. Tears gathered in Stella's eyes. "He was proud of you too, he was proud of all of us." Her delicate face tensed as she laid her hand on top of David's. As she did she noticed a newly formed dark spot on her forearm. "I didn't know I had bumped into Eddie that hard," she muttered. David stared at it with interest and his eyes flickered before he responded. "Stella you gotta watch your step. Do you need a doctor?" He asked with clear concern his eyes actually had some tears in them as well. But his mind had gotten sidetracked by Stella's bruise. "It's not that bad..." Stella studied it closer, already having turned an interesting shade of purple. "Yes, I'm completely fine, no need to worry. Besides, we have enough to be concerned about, as Lester clearly shows." She rolled her eyes dramatically. David frowned. "Did he give you trouble? I could talk to him if you want?" "Not anymore trouble than usual. He's certainly a grump, but that's understandable...still, it's not my fault that I had no connection." Stella sighed, shaking her head. "My bot seems to have stopped working." David shrugged and took the Bot from her. He opened up the small back of it and toyed with it suddenly it sparked from the back and it was running again. It flew into the air David lighty pushed it over to Stella and it floated right into her arms. "Well, that sure looked easy," Stella gave a small laugh. Her eyes met David's once more and a genuine love showed through her gaze. "Thank you David, you have always been good to me." He started to walk and way spoke softly. "That's right and I always will."
Lincoln A circus troupe had just walked in to pay their respects... Mr. Stanfield certainly had had very diverse investments, thought Lincoln. He'd skimmed his financials when he'd first started doing business with the Stanfields, and was surprised to see many charitable acts, purchases of night clubs, circus troupes, help for the disenfranchised. Stanfield, to all outward appearances was a good man, a philanthropist. But was that really what he was? Lincoln wasn't so sure, especially after his death. A man does not get murdered in such a brutal fashion unless there is anger involved. And usually when there is anger, there is a share of fault to be had on both sides of the dispute. Personally, Lincoln believed that 'good old Richard' might not have been as good as he seemed. Those that did the most good, usually had the most to hide. But that was just his personal thoughts on the matter, and best kept personal and un-uttered if he wished to hold on to the favor, and monetary assets, of the Stanfield Family. With all that was happening at the moment, it seemed that his presence among the family wouldn't be appreciated. He knew what a desperate banker looked like, and he knew that he didn't want to be one. He had paid his respects to Ruth and David. He had no respects to pay to Lester, but would if forced into an intractable position (his definition of such a situation was loose at best) and when he had a moment, and when it wouldn't seem rushed and contrived, he would pay his respects to Flora. Best to let them celebrate, or decry--whichever was more suited to their nature--the arrival of the prodigal beauty, Stella. He watched from a distance, slightly enchanted by the girl's looks, but also disappointed that she had arrived right before he was going to have a chance to speak with Flora. Patience Lincoln, patience. he chided himself. All in due time. Walking over to the chairs set out, he pulled a cigarette tin out of his breast pocket with one hand, and produced a lighter with the other. He sat down in a chair, and lighted up, taking a long draw. Then he noticed, and he wondered how he hadn't sooner, the girl in the red dress. She had a look like red was her color, like it or not. She was alive, vibrant, and there was no other color that would suit her. Of all the girls in red he'd seen, Lincoln had to admit, this was the only one who seemed to really live the part. And if there was anything that intrigued Lincoln even comparably to profit, it was women. And Lincoln was intrigued. "What's your story doll? Knew old Mr. Stanfield?" he asked.
Soon enough Kubi got bored and decided to explore. She was blown away with the size of this mansion and the wealth in it. She studied every object of worth like a precious stone from larger paintings, to the colorful Vase's. She wandered the huge walls a sense of wonder and perhaps jealousy, but soon, she was lost. At first she panicked and began running down the twisting hallways for a path to escape from her glamerous prison. Then she began looking into rooms but to no avail. Rounding a corner at breakneck speed Kubi collided into and older gentlemen, she hit the ground hard but was just quick enough to spot a very fragile pot about to fall over. She was too far to catch with her hand and it smashed in several pieces on the ground. "Oh no..." She looked up at the strange man. "...please don't tell? please?" she asked with the best puppydog face she could muster. Roland had been on his way back from the room where the refreshments were being prepared when the young girl bounced right off his rather large stomach. The baker looked down at the frightened young woman. She reminded him of a cupcake. Colorful, with irresistible pleading eyes. The buttons on his suit threatened to pop as he stifled laughter at her situation. Then, unexpectedly, he looked around to make sure no one was watching and brushed the pieces of the pot under a nearby cabinet. "Don't tell what?" He asked with a twinkle in his eye. "That you were running around the house like a chicken with her head cut off?" He tsked as if he were disappointed in her behavior then chuckled lightheartedly and offered a meaty hand down to help her up. "Don't worry, cupcake. I won't tell on you if you don't tell that was sneaking one of my desserts early. Deal?" A large smile appeared across her face, her features emboldend with relief the girl lit up like a star. She accepted his hand and got to her feet. "Thank you, thankyou so much." She said in slightly butchered english. She then took a step back and took a short bow, "I am...lost, I only wanted to look around a bit. But this place is.." She had to pause, thinking of the word to describe it in english. "Humoginuseses." She stuttered. Roland found her broken english, interesting, to say the least. He wondered about her relation to the Steinfield family. Perhaps she part of the entertainment for the reception? Would they even have entertainment at a reception for a funeral? He shrugged mentally. Oh well. "Lost? Well, we can't have that now can we? Allow me to be your escort back to the viewing room." He bent at the waist slightly and offered her a well-rounded arm. She took it willingly, and as they walked back Kubi asked. "Your name?" She quiet liked the big guy, kind he was, and it wasn't often she was treated kindly by Americans who were not here to see her perform. "Roland. Roland Stone. And I dare say I'm the best danged baker in this city. And you?" "Vixen." She replied proudly, then she added. "But you can call me Kubi. You are a cheff? does that mean...you are french and eat snails?" "Bah, pah...what..." Roland stuttered indignantly. "Now listen here, Ms. Kubi," He declared not unkindly but very passionately, "I bake real food! Bread, pastries, cakes! Good food! I wouldn't touch a snail unless I was throwing it out of my mother's garden. The french may know how to cook...but I bake. And that is an even more important art!" Before he knew what he was doing, Roland led the girl to dessert table and showed her all the glorious things he had cooked. He held out a cream puff and gestured for her taste it. She took the pastry in her hands, looked over once, and took a bite. It took a moment for the sensation to sink in, Good god is this what she had been missing! How delightful! and in a moment she wolf down the entire thing. "This, this is blessed thing. You are a wonderful cook!" She responded, "I wish the cook at my circus was half as good as you." The circus? Ah...that explained something...mainly her strange garments...but still not how she was associated with this family. Roland smiled and nodded proudly. Nothing pleased him more than watching someone enjoy his food "Well, perhaps I can show him a few things someday." He stuck out his arm again. "Come on, cupcake." He'd already forgotten her real name, but did it matter? He'd given her a better one. "We should probably get back to the funeral, lest it start without us." "I would like them to to be honest, Don't like funerals." She followed him back to the crowd where they all waited.
The man without name, with an unknown face, and from the one no one knew about; the one that nicknamed himself as The Valentine walked with a not too fast, neither too slow step toward the casket. He didn't said any word and bowed his head before leaving to a seat. His face didn't reflect sadness, joy or concern. In fact it didn't reflect anything. But he was working, checking any event on his sight, recollecting information from every point his eye passed by, every sound that crossed his ear. Some figures that showed were well known by him, as with his work he had access to a vast amount of information from any kind of person, he even knew secrets unknown to public but to just certain figures close to their personal or work life. That's the kind of information that this man in black and brown knew. He ocassionally sigued or even giggled when certain people spoke or acted. Yet he wasn't willing to talk with anyone unless asked, just to maintain the appearances. In fact, he didn't wish to interfere, yet his only presence was enough to interfere a bit, what a paradoxical situation usually found on his job. After all, he was there to recollect information, not to modify it or participate on it. Hence if he was seen as no more than a signal or a lightpost, it would be good. His only job was to gain knowledge, not to create events. He found this amusing, as always on this kind of work. Yet that amussement was kept to himself, the same that any information he may gain.... Except that the information will be passed to anyone willing to prize him with some good amount of bills....
Green Suit The boy in the green suit made his way around the room his eyes seemed to be searching for something. His foot steps made noise as the room full of crowded people drowned it them out. The only movements he was making on his face was his mouth munching down on a candy bar. What were his thoughts? Was he friend of Richard or more likely one of the children? Perhaps he was a young upstart that was paying a rival farewell but whoever he was he certainly wasn't up for conversation as he carefully evaded just about everyone that try to approach him. The boy looked thoughtful for moment as pondered something and anybody near him could see him mouth a word with L in it as if trying to remind himself of something.
Eddie Cartwright After Eddie had caught the beautiful dame Stella in his arms, she soon after went to talk to her brother David. "Well that was all wet." he said to himself. He didn't like that she had to leave him immediately, but he understood that she had siblings who wanted to see her, and she had a coffin to attend to. Eddie became intrigued with the house, he had been in it only a couple, maybe two, times. He wanted a refresher. So, he began to make his own tour around the house. He went into the library first, once inside he noticed two other people in there, but he did his best to ignore the, He didn't want to bother them, so he stayed quiet as possible. His eyes began to glow from the rays coming from the fire place. This made his eyes look more outstanding than ever, instead of the blue sky they once looked like, now they looked like a glowing, shimmering diamond. He let his finger lightly slide across book titles, as he looked for something that would entertain him. For a second he though back to what happened with Stella. "I hope I didn't hurt her, my dukes grabbed her pretty hard." he thought to himself. "She'll be fine." he said softly out loud. He stopped his finger and found a book that was unlike the other, it had no title. He pulled it out and he looked at it, it was made of leather, and the inside looked different than just paper pages. He opened it up, and it appeared to be a family album, even ones that dated back a pretty far time. He flipped through it with a smile on his face. Eddie soon began to walk his way into the funeral room with the book tucked under his arm, he had not left the library yet, but he was stepping towards the door.
The Lady in Red "What's your story doll? Knew old Mr. Stanfield?" She simply smiled. “My, my, aren’t we brave?” Her eyes kept firmly ahead, not giving the gent the pleasure of her attention. Instead she continued to study the honoured guests attending, closely following their patterns, mannerisms and speech. Behind her in the corner stood the group from the carnival, waiting patiently to pay their respects; to her left was an alcove shrouding a timid pair both out of sorts, a male and female, clearly not wishing to be here; Across from there through a door stood two figures, a rotund man and a stick thin girl, seemingly stuffing their faces at the glorious desserts table; at the front stood masses of people, pushing and shoving to give their “condolences” to the Stanfields, on the off chance they might actually talk business; and to her right sat this man, with an impeccable three piece suit, in a modest yet elegant brown, which sat neatly on top of his creaseless white shirt and rich green tie. “I’ve had my eye on you for some time now.” She whispered, the words bouncing off her ruby lips. “Oh?” Lincoln’s ego had taken that as flattery, and he edged closer to enjoy her company. She hardly moved, still facing forward. “That wasn’t a compliment, but it’s so very cute that you thought it was.” The lady took another drag of her cigarette, lightly tapped away the excess and then placed her hand along her crossed legs. She paused and prepared herself with a long breath. “By the cut of your suit, you were born into money and you know how to wear it. The stainless steel cuffs, the three piece design, the money clip bulging in your jacket pocket. You’re a man of sharp taste, I’ll admit, and you like expensive toys. At first I was at a loss as to what you do... perhaps a Daddy’s boy… but the way you wriggled up to the Stanfields, nervously waiting for their attention, I’d say you’re just another business man, clearly doing well for yourself. And the way you dress suggests you like perfection, so I’m guessing you work with numbers and statistics, where there is always a perfect answer. Perhaps a Stock Broker? Something in finance for sure. Please stop me if I’m wrong.” The lips pursed together and finally she turned, piercing him with her emerald stare. The Lady in Red arched her back forward slightly to tease him with her cleavage, and ran a delicate hand of through her luscious chocolate curls. She would be lying if she wasn’t a little intrigued herself, but there was a feeling of emptiness towards the man, his reasons for the visit not just. “Finance is so very… drab. But you were brave to sit there. I like that.”
Piper: Observations Piper watched the whirl of people from the relative obscurity of her niche. Mrs. Hilton was still shrieking for the ominously absent Flora Stanfield. It seemed like everyone under the sun had flocked to the mansion, including, but not limited to, an entire circus troupe, a scarlet women, the baker, several young men who seemed to be family friends with the younger set of Stanfields. The investor, Lincoln, currently seated next to the scarlet wonder. Most of the men in the room looked like they would kill to exchange places with him. The late and much sought after Stella had finally put in an appearance. Lester looked furious, a vein throbbing in his forehead. There were others among the throng, however, that were much more curious, going beyond even that of the circus troupe. The boy in the green suit, who spoke to no one and munched on a candy bar, and the snoop who had his ears flapping for pertinent bits of information...Possibly a schemer of some sort? What was interesting were some of the folks not in attendance. There were a few natural connections, who should be present, yet were curiously unaccounted for. Other than Teddy, very few if any, of Lester's friends had put in an appearance, the same went for Ruth's, as well. Most of the local business giants she recognized from the paper, their wives, flocked about Mrs. Stanfield, easily placed by their attire and attitudes. It was almost as if they were waiting for a hammer to drop. Genuine emotion seemed to be something that was sadly lacking. True, there were some hidden depths, but other than Ruth, no one seemed truly broken up over Richard Stanfield's passing. There were agendas, lined and waiting in the wings, which one was enough to warrant such a brutal murder? Piper's thoughts churned with her observations. She knew without a doubt that savagery was involved in the killing, severe damage must have been done. Why else would Mrs. Stanfield agree to a closed casket? Appearance was everything to her. Where were the investigators? Did anyone actually mourn the passing of Richard Stanfield or was it all just a front? The rooms were full, but the guest registry very slim on entries. She wasn't the only one who wanted to remain an unknown, an impossibility at this stage in the game. She knew she would have to face her aunt sooner or later, but whether they liked it or not, Piper was a Stanfield by blood. A familiar niggling tingle started at the base of her neck. Her natural curiosity was finally beginning to overtake her social anxiety. She needed to find Teddy. They were staying. With her usual, easy manner restored, Piper stepped out of the shadows and nearly collided with a man exiting the library. She swallowed a squeak as she jumped back. "I beg your pardon..." It was then that she noticed his hands weren't empty. Why on earth was he toting a photo album around? Instinct was riding her hard as she merged with the crowd. Deftly she pulled a sleek little black and chrome bot from her purse and rolled it into the air. The bitty orb was state of the art, an experimental prototype from one of the University research labs. It follow Piper as she pressed through the crowd, her eyes and ears above the throng.
Eddie Cartwright Eddie walked into the main room with the photo album tucked under his arm. Once he was in the room, he noticed the people who seemingly had never met each other, were starting to pair up, and meet each other. He was a little disappointed that the only person who he had spoke with was Stella, who he had already known. Sure, he talked to the the little girl, but only for a few seconds. He walked over to the chair his father, Isaiah was sitting. He sat in the chair next to him. "Hey, Dad, look at this." Eddie stated while leaned over to his father. The muscular older gentleman reached over and grabbed the book, flipping through curiously. Isaiah stopped and smiled as he landed on a page with a family picture of all the Stanfields. Eddie looked over and said, "Look how have they looked." He sighed and then continued, "It's sad that Mr.Stanfield is now gone." Eddie called for his bot to come out of his pocket, and it did. Though, it flew out quickly and slammed into the wall and got a short circuit for a quick second, after touching it he was immediately electrocuted. "Oww!" he yelled under his breath, but loud enough for anyone within five feet to hear him. After he hit it trying to fix the short circuit which would work for now, he took it and used it to take a picture of the picture of the Stanfields.
I looked over the crowd of people that had come to the funeral once more, I sighed quietly and walked up to the coffin, I knelt my head down and shut my eyes. "May your soul rest in peace, wherever it may sleep." I mumbled quietly, I raised my head and opened my eyes, I looked around and saw David, I walked over to him. "Hey David, my condolences for your father's passing, he didn't deserve to have his life end in such a way, I'm sure that his murderer will be brought to justice soon." I said.
David studied Joe for a moment and it took a moment for him to remember who he was.........the detective. Then again there were a few of them there though. He looked thoughtful for a moment as his mind wandered. Maybe he could start a detective agency. No that wouldn't work out despite being a genius in the field of Bots David was hardly a master of deduction. He shook himself out of his zone and spoke to Joe. "Thanks." He said shaking the detectives hand. The man in green walked by in two as he finished the last bit of the chocolate bar. David regarded him and then Joe again. "So Joe you work closely with the police. Do you know anything or have they come up with anything new?" He asked.
"I'm sorry, but I haven't been hired on just yet, even then I couldn't reveal any information, so far all I know is just most of the information that the public knows, which is shoddy at best..." I said, I remembered that David worked with bots, I'd have to ask him about acquiring one soon, I had been constantly busy that I hadn't gone out to look for one myself, I had heard that they were pretty useful, and if the police did hire me on as a consultant having a machine to help me access information quickly would be rather invaluable if I came across a subject which I had no prior experience with before, I noticed the man in the green suit. "Hm... why wear green to a funeral?" I wondered aloud.
Jay Hmm... Jay eyed the man in green as he stood alongside a few others who clearly hadn't noticed him. He hadn't intended to be seen in the first place anyways, and his eyes flashed keenly as they narrowed, following the stranger. "Hm . . . why wear green to a funeral?" one of the people he was standing near mumbled, and he turned. "I don't know either, but it seems downright disrespectful to be at a funeral in that attire." he replied quietly, flipping on his bot and paging through the recordings. Maybe he could find a clip of where that man had been around...
"Hm . . . why wear green to a funeral?" The Valentine just heard that words, he didn't interfere but allowed his mind to take his place for a while. The question seemed right indeed, but also out of place... Why?... reason is simple, colors had been flowing everywhere on this funeral. Black and grey are no longer the dominant ones, The Valentine himself whore a brown suit with a black shirt at most, while one of the daughter even showed bright colors. So a green color isn't weird at all. Perhaps it was a sincere person... well, not sincere in the strict sense of the word. But this funeral is being attended not only by those who are sad for the departure, we also have some who may be dancing inside of them. In other words, although a way of cortesy, is also a big lie for those who don't mourn the dead to wore the classical black, let that color only belongs to the ones whose heart is sad for this events, others may choose any color to express their joy, concern, disinterest, etc. And talking about himself, his color was brown, who seemed to be neutral even in a funeral, perhaps a fitting color for a person like him.
"I don't know either, but it seems downright disrespectful to be at a funeral in that attire." He replied quietly. I looked at the man who had said that. "Well it could be disrespectful, but he might not have been able to get his hands on a black suit, you have to remember that no one hasn't heard of Mr. Stanfield, there are probably many people from all around the world attending this, so it's possible that he was unable to obtain a black suit if they were sold out or he wanted a tailor made one and it would take far too long, perhaps it's his favorite color, or maybe it's to express his feelings of Mr. Stanfield's death, black and gray are usually the normal mourning colors because someone is either mourning, or sad about the departed's death, there are others here with a different assortment of colors, some out of convenience, others trying to secretly show how they feel about the departed... but I wonder how he feels, if he indeed is using his suit color to convey his feelings... does he feel lucky, or envious?" I asked.
Flora Stanfield: Hauntings of the Past There was no telling that Flora Stanfield wished to be anywhere but her husbands' funeral. Her personage revealed a strong, confident woman as crowds formed around her, giving heartfelt condolences. Any other day, she would gladly bask in the attention, but given her husbands unusual death, her life had taken a sharp turn. A full twenty-nine years she had with Richard; years full of success and happiness, were no more. After a polite word, Mrs. Standfield separated herself from her smothering garden members, dabbing her eyes with a handkerchief. She knew she mustn't cry or risk her make-up running. Intent to take a breath, she turned towards the many seats in the room. As she did, she noticed Stella had finally arrived. Goodness, how much she constantly fretted over that daughter of hers. Her eyes again glanced over the other attendees, all she recognized and all she knew. Most would speak to her more in depth when given the chance. With a sigh, Flora made her way to a large cushioned settee in the corner. Tossing a loose auburn curl over her shoulder, she was careful not to knock her extravagant pillbox hat, lavished in black feathers and dark veil netting. Slowly, she settled in and treasured the moment of not being bothered. "Flora. Come quick. Flora!" The moment had been nice, but brief. Flora glanced up to find a very hysteric Mrs. Hilton rushing towards her, arms flailing and mouth gaping. Mrs. Stanfield calmly rose from her spot, concealing her annoyance with grace. Mrs. Hilton had always been one to overemphasize practically...everything. "Please Mrs. Hilton, do calm yourself. Whatever is the matter?" Flora asked. Mrs. Hilton struggled to get herself under control. "In the library, right under the portrait your husband refused to remove...I saw her. I thought it was your Stella. But no! It was the ghost of Miss Anne. Couldn't be anyone else, I'd know that sweet face anywhere. She's come back to avenge your poor Richard...Flora." Flora frowned. She had only heard that name spoken aloud twice in all her years of being a Stanfield. A ghost? Nonsense, she didn't believe in such things. "Mrs. Hilton, are you feeling faint? Maybe you should take a seat..." Mrs. Hilton's heavy jowls quivered. "I might be old, Flora Stanfield, but I'm not blind or stupid. I know what I saw and it was a mirror reflection of Miss Anne." The old biddy lowered her sizeable bulk into the nearest chair and jabbed a gnarled finger at Flora. "I've known this family longer than you have been a part of it. Richard never told you about his sister, did he." It was a statement, not a question. She was truly in her element now. Neighborhood scandal. "Let me bring you up to snuff." She said with a superior smile. "Anne Stanfield was Richard's younger sister, his only sibling, in fact. It's her picture that hangs in the library. She was some hears younger than he was. Doted on and spoiled, that child was, but so gentle. Disappeared without a trace when she wasn't much older than young Ruth. Some say she fell in love with a boy, who was visiting Richard one summer. No one really knows what happened, but one day she was there and the next she was gone. Her folks refused to talk about it. Some claim old Stanfield killed the child when he found out about her attachment to that boy. But after her disappearance they put up a marked in the Stanfield plot bearing Anne's name. For all intents and purposes, Miss Anne was dead. Old Stanfield removed every last trace of his daughter, except for that portrait that Richard tucked away in my attic. He came back for it after his father's death and returned it to it original spot, right above the library mantel. And the girl I spoke with was the spitting image of that picture. Explain that." Flora put her delicate hand to her chest. To think Richard had never brought such a family scandal to her, she was almost embarrassed to have not known. As she studied Mrs. Hilton's expression, her tight frown remained. "If the girl you saw was Anne, then you're right, she must not be dead." Flora spoke slowly, analyzing the information like the true gossip she was. "But I don't believe you've seen a ghost, Mrs. Hilton, that is indeed too far-fetched. Could this girl still be in our company?" Flora craned her slender neck, scanning the room with a sharp eye. "Possibly. Bitty little wisp of a thing, slighter even than Stella come to think of it. She'll be hard to find in this swarm." Mrs. Hilton conceded. "No one gets past me, I will find her in due time. Now, if you would please excuse me, Mrs. Hilton." Flora gave the woman a gentle nod and turned once again to face the crowd, eyes roving for the pictured description.
Piper: Coming Out of Left Field The man in green walked by in two as he finished the last bit of the chocolate bar. David regarded him and then Joe again. "So Joe you work closely with the police. Do you know anything or have they come up with anything new?" He asked. Piper's sharp ears pricked as she turned toward the source of the voices. Her little bot zipped after her, hovering just a little too low. It connected solidly with the back of David Stanfield's head. She made a lunge to catch the device before it smashed against the tiles. Pink to the roots of her shimmery dark curls, she drew herself up to her full, insignificant height. "I'm terribly sorry, sir. It was an accident." She said, tucking the bot behind her back. This day really can't get any worse...
