[ The tension doesn't leave her when she reaches the top, but her shoulders drop. Just a little. She takes to scanning the rest of the roof tops for any signs of company while Amos moved straight for the pool of blood — but it's deserted. It seems that whoever pushed the man off the edge ( or perhaps he fell? ) got what they wanted ( or didn't foresee it going this way ). Outside of the gentle breeze and the occasional, muffled conversation in the distance — which she doesn't remember hearing in the darkness, but she was also focused on a dying man — it's quiet. Peaceful, almost.
Before she can really look at what he's found, though, her gaze flits to a random part of the roof, catching sight of an upturned book. ] Ah, a moment— [ She jogs over to pick it up. It's a small notebook, well-worn but not exactly well-organized — there are smatterings of blank pages between filled ones in some random order, most of it hastily written. Another clue to add to the first — she brings it back to him so that they could be studied side by side. ]
What do you make of this? These appear to be dates, but... [ There's a quiet, vexed hum at the end of it. The left side of the page seems to follow a very standard format of ##/##/##, but the accompanying words are all gibberish. Either illegible, or purposely written as a cipher. She looks between the two. The notebook first, then the note.
( The whole thing could be a trap, an elaborate series of bait for them to end up just like the man that's been dropped on them. There's no real way to know unless the two of them get to the end — but could she ask a man she has just met to follow her to danger like this? ) ]
There's a room 417 at the motel across the way, I believe. Perhaps the man at the front will allow us to investigate, should we present this as evidence...? [ There's caution in her words, this time. Just in case Amos thinks this is enough reason to stop. ]
no subject
Before she can really look at what he's found, though, her gaze flits to a random part of the roof, catching sight of an upturned book. ] Ah, a moment— [ She jogs over to pick it up. It's a small notebook, well-worn but not exactly well-organized — there are smatterings of blank pages between filled ones in some random order, most of it hastily written. Another clue to add to the first — she brings it back to him so that they could be studied side by side. ]
What do you make of this? These appear to be dates, but... [ There's a quiet, vexed hum at the end of it. The left side of the page seems to follow a very standard format of ##/##/##, but the accompanying words are all gibberish. Either illegible, or purposely written as a cipher. She looks between the two. The notebook first, then the note.
( The whole thing could be a trap, an elaborate series of bait for them to end up just like the man that's been dropped on them. There's no real way to know unless the two of them get to the end — but could she ask a man she has just met to follow her to danger like this? ) ]
There's a room 417 at the motel across the way, I believe. Perhaps the man at the front will allow us to investigate, should we present this as evidence...? [ There's caution in her words, this time. Just in case Amos thinks this is enough reason to stop. ]