westerntrick | June 6th, 1894

June 6th, 1894

It was a fine Wednesday afternoon, only the gathering heat of the day a blemish on what would've been a perfect day for the outdoors. There was hardly a breeze and not quite enough clouds for any relief from the sun, which is why one Deputy Apollo Justice was forced to don his hat as he trekked further and further from the city center. He would've taken more notice of the day had he not been in a hurry, and grumbling under his breath besides.

His bicycle had been stolen again. He'd had it chained up behind the sheriff's office, but some scoundrel had pried a link apart and taken the goods, leaving only the cheap chain there in the dust. Lucky for Apollo, there'd been a couple of witnesses; the only problem with that was his thief had covered his head and his face, making real identification a tough prospect.

Apollo used what he'd heard to follow the trail, so to speak. His path lead down to the river, not further into town but heading out of it, towards where crops were grown using the water diverted from it. There were less people out here to be questioning, so he kept his eyes peeled instead, looking for a flash of metal -

And when he found it, it was on a river bank, half-submerged and stuck in the mud. Muttering a curse, Apollo shoved his gloves on his hands before sliding the short way down the bank, his boots leaving tracks in the mud behind him.

"Damn! It'll start to rust at this rate..."

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Just another day, one like any other, would have hardly noticed the change in month if he had not bothered to pick up a newspaper today. It was the same as usual, but what did he expect? Looks like the government is about to send out troops to help with the rioting around here--good call, Cleveland.

Of course if it were up Yomiel, he wouldn't mind if Los Angeles tore itself to pieces, if the damned river swallowed the whole town, if the judgement of the gods should saw it fit to wipe it from this country. He tosses the paper back to the nearby bench he snatched it from, stuffs his hands in the pockets of his coat and begins his trek back home. "Home" being a loose term, lately it's been whatever abandoned shack he can make due with. Should've brought Sissel today but he didn't imagine he'd be heading so far into town. At least he managed to tuck a few apples in his coat pockets, easy enough to make off with horse snacks when nobody so much as blinks in your direction.

Before long he's leaving the city, heading out toward the country, head ducked to watch the dust kicked by his boots once he approaches the river. Due east now, just have to follow it out but...he's not alone. There's someone here, someone skidding down the bank. What's this about, did he drop something? Curiosity piqued, he diverts from his path to trudge over there, well aware that he'll go unnoticed so long as he doesn't start anything. Only once he gets close does he recognize the man.

It's one of the sheriff's boys.

Well now this changes things. Maybe he'll just give him a shove and be on his way. Standing tall on the bank behind the deputy, Yomiel decides to try letting his presence be known. It only takes a few seconds of scouting before a suitable stone is found. Scraping it from the ground he tosses it at Apollo's shoulder, speaking at the same time in a volume that's louder than usual given the situation. Just gotta make sure he's heard.

"Well lookie here, what's the Deputy doing rootin' around down here? Did ya drop somethin'?"

His hand is already back in his coat's pocket, an amused smirk crossing his features like a man watching a particularly clever theater performance.

Edited 2012-07-16 05:57 (UTC)

The rock that hits his shoulder doesn't do much more than sting briefly, the surprise of it being what makes Apollo jump more than anything. He whirls around about as fast as he can with his boots trying to stick in the mud, then adjusts his hat against the glare of the sun as he looks up at him. It wasn't anyone he'd seen around the city before, and with all those bullets adorning him, he could only assume the man was some sorta bodyguard or mercenary. Someone that went around looking for trouble, in other words.

"In a manner of speakin'. More like someone dropped it for me. So you'll have to excuse me if I'm not too presentable at the moment, stranger."

With that, he leans over to grab one of the handlebars, yanking his bike up and out of the mud. Apollo's not too sure if they stuck it there to make a mess, or out of some sort of mercy so the river wouldn't wash it away, but he could see from here that the thief's trek down the bank had left another set of tracks. So now he knew the thief wore boots, which only eliminated, oh, the extremely small number of folks around here that didn't own a pair.

With a slight frown, he sends a sidelong glance at the strange, but from here he can't see a smudge of dirt on the man. Apollo didn't seriously think someone he didn't know would've taken it, but him showing up like this was a little suspicious all the same.

The spirit listens to the other man talk with that smirk on his lips, only letting it recede into a tightly drawn smile once Apollo goes to pull that bike. He moves slightly in a sway, shifting his weight from one leg to the to the other but not quite willing to abandon his position on the bank.

"So, I am to believe the deputy can't keep his own bicycle from gettin' hustled? Wild times we live in, partner, ain't an ounce of respect around these parts. Figure I've gotten used to it."

The man pulls a hand from his pocket to adjust his tinted spectacles, pushing them further up the bridge of his nose and letting that hand linger there for a second like he might not know what to do with it--blue eyes checking the expression of the deputy before him until a quick chortle escapes him.

"Now you don't think I did it, do ya? Maybe I've come to watch one of the sheriff's boys wallow in the mud as a practical joke?"

He laughs lowly to himself over it, genuinely amused by the thought of even being briefly considered for such an act. With a dismissive wave of his hand, he notes this as maybe a record in the way of conversation for maybe the last month or so. Not counting Sissel, anyway.

Edited 2012-07-17 03:47 (UTC)

"I'll show 'em respect, once I find who did this and introduce him to a jail cell," Apollo grumbles, just loud enough to be heard at that distance. This conversation was getting a little uncomfortable, but he wasn't going to stop to be polite until he was finished dealing with his bicycle. As muddy as it was, the rest of the river was hardly a couple of steps away. Apollo dragged it a little deeper into the water, getting the bottoms of his trousers soaked as he leaned down to start washing it off.

"Did I accuse you of anything, sir? I'm more thinkin' it's a rascal I'm acquainted with that decided to pull this on me. I bet he's off laughin' about it in one of the saloons right now. But if I did have to accuse you of somethin', it'd be that you're finding an uncommon amount of entertainment in the plight of your fellow man."

There's a little sarcasm creeping into his voice already. This just kept getting better and better, between this mean-spirited prank and now having an audience for the ignoble task of retrieving it. Apollo could only imagine how disgusted both Sheriff Cabanela and Deputy Gavin would be if he moseyed back into the office trailing mud and water behind him.

"Besides, you have the looks of a man that'd find more entertainment in somethin' dangerous. Unless you're gonna tell me all that ammo you're wearin' is purely for the ornamental effect."

Yomiel nods to himself in the manner of someone who's taking in new information and agreeing with it, a thin smile on his lips that says the other is correct in his initial judgement. He thinks, for a second, that he likes this man's attitude. It makes him wonder about him, at least more so than 'how would that get-up of his look if I knocked him over and sent him back covered in mud, oh I bet the ole sheriff'd be thrilled'.

"And what a dirty, low-down trick, cryin' shame, that," he responds in a heightened tone, likely for the dramatic effect, "I'll bet if you put up the coin for it you could ride a proper horse like the rest of the lawfolk 'round here. Mind if I ask what someone of your position is doing with a contraption like that?"

Fellow man, there's a nice phrase and he catches himself pondering for a moment if he could ever consider another person a 'fellow man' ever again. The dead shouldn't keep the living for company, if everyone's inability to notice him has said anything about that. Oh well, it pays to mingle when he can, there's the chance this guy won't even recognize him come the following morning. The wandering spirit has found that it varies between individuals, not that he has much hope of understanding it aside from keeping track of those he should worry about trying to put bullets in him. 'A curse' is all he really needs to know.

He hunches a shoulder in a lazy, single-armed shrug.

"What can I say, deputy? You've got me right figured out, dontchya? Entertainment can be hard to come by."

Flashing a white smile in the afternoon sun, he shifts a hand to pat the revolver at his waist.

"No harm in bein' prepared, I've found myself in spots of trouble before, good sir, enough times to warrant it. Maybe someone who takes not to the country often wouldn't understand."

The horizon sits heavy and orange to the west, the way it does once it hits a certain time and seems to hang there for ages. It's a nice view, but the ghost can't help but wonder how long he's left Sissel on his own today. His concept of time could use some work these days.

"What's your name?" he asks the air in an offhanded nature, lifting his gaze from the man in favor of watching down the river thoughtfully.

Edited 2012-07-17 05:48 (UTC)

"... Alright, fair enough. I can't say it's been too peaceful 'round these parts lately, countryside or not." It wasn't carrying a revolver that was strange - nearly anyone that could shoot had one, and even most of the women carried derringers - but more the look of him along with being so over-prepared. Well, if this man didn't want to chat about it, that was fine with him. Apollo usually had his hands full with the ones that actually did cause trouble, with no time for the folks that only looked like they might.

"As for this 'contraption', it's got some advantages over a horse! Gettin' shot won't hurt it, you don't gotta feed it or shovel after it ... 'course, you can't get hanged for stealin' a bicycle. Tends to give little in the way of discouragement for pranksters."

Apollo hadn't particularly considered the other man's lamentations to be anywhere even close to genuine, but then, who would? The running water is doing a good job of cleaning the mud off his bicycle, and some swipes at it with his gloves do the rest. Once it's washed off enough, he lifts it back up and trudges his way out of the water and back up the bank, a little awkwardly thanks to the shape of the frame. Apollo manages to make it back up the side of the bank with minimal slipping, setting the bike back down and peeling off his wet gloves before offering him a handshake.

"The name's Apollo Justice. And yourself?"

"Well, those are some good points, sir," he exhales in a lazy drawl, pausing to let a small chuckle escape him, "But just about anyone could outrun you proper on a horse, where'd ya be then? One less scoundrel captured of your own accord, one more for the bounty hunters. 'Suppose it doesn't matter so long as they're hauled in."

Yomiel takes a polite step backward to ensure he's well out of the way while the other scales the bank, watching with a placid smile on his lips despite examining him rather critically. Kind of on the short side, this guy--dresses the part for a deputy. Whenever the ghost has watched him before it's been at a reasonable distance and he was admittedly more interested in what the sheriff had been up to. Kid must be smart to have won that favor, or quick as a whip. Yomiel couldn't imagine any less who'd willingly work with that dime's worth of dog meat.

Thankful to the gloves covering his hands less the other catch on to his dead man's chill, Yomiel reaches to grip the deputy's hand, giving it a quick shake.

"Fine to meet you, Deputy Justice. Heavy name you have there, I imagine most are fond of the irony."

He pauses now to consider which name he should use. There are whole outfits of men out there who know him as "Sissel" including the blue fellows he's been speaking with. There's a part of him that wants to keep it up for continuity, and another that wants to hear his real name on the tongue of a living man again. Telling the deputy who he is may be inviting disaster should that sheriff catch wind of his name. Although, Yomiel was plenty confident he could handle it. If they come down after him so be it, all it would do is hasten his plans to kill them off anyway. It's too bad that this Apollo might get involved, he hadn't planned on wiping out none but a few from the law force but he'd change his plans if need be. Hell, all the deputy would have to do anyway is describe him and that sheriff will come sniffing around here. Might as well tempt the fates today.

"Call me Yomiel."

We'll see what happens, he figures as he finally drops his hand from the other's. We'll see.

Edited 2012-07-17 15:06 (UTC)

"It's good to meet you too, Mr. Yomiel. Heh, as heavy as my name is, I'm rather fond of the irony myself."

Apollo drops his hand as well, without paying much mind at all to Yomiel's gloves. He takes a moment to turn his own damp gloves inside-out before shoving them in one of his pockets. The other man seemed pleasant enough now, and Apollo couldn't bring himself to be too bothered by the earlier spot of teasing he'd done. It was when it got onery, like with what happened to him today, that it started to get on Apollo's last nerve.

He then casts a somewhat doubtful look back at his bike before directing his gaze at the ground, reaching up to briefly lift his hat. He only holds it out of the way long enough to run a hand over the spikes in his hair, with them springing forward again just fast enough to avoid getting trapped under the ten-gallon. For his part, Apollo doesn't seem to notice the stubborn behavior of his own hair.

"Alright, I'll admit that it'd be mighty hard for me to catch up to a horse. But if you don't mind me bein' blunt about it... as much as I don't want anyone runnin' off on me, I just don't have the dinero. If the Sheriff's Office were inclined for me to have a horse, they'd have to start payin' me enough for ownership and upkeep. Seeing as how I'm so new, I can't imagine that's gonna be much of a priority."

Yomiel keeps his eyes on trained on the other's interesting hair, the corner of his mouth turning upward in a charmed grin. He almost wants to say something about it, liken it to one thing or the other but ultimately decides it's best to keep quiet on the topic.

The ghost nods thoughtfully; he hasn't really caught the time to appreciate how expensive it must be to keep a horse considering how most of his property these days has been blatantly stolen. Easy enough when nobody notices you were even there to begin with--but sometimes they do. Sometimes it gets ugly. He likes to tell himself that he does what he has to in order to get by, there's no way somebody like him could remain hired anywhere, not like this. Even what money he does have was looted anyway, which neatly defeats the purpose.

"I suppose so, kinda thought the Sheriff would be payin' you more on principle. Guess it has been rough 'round here."

There's a pause there, a thought hanging on the end of his sentence, something heavy that threatens to break through. He shifts his gaze away from the other, looking over his bicycle with a thoughtful frown.

"Can I make an inquiry of you, Mr. Justice? What made you pursue the law in this place? Were you born here?"

"There's a lot of ways things are rough here, but we get by. Make no mistake, I'm gettin' by just fine, too."

And discussing his finances too deeply with a stranger seemed like it'd be a case of giving out far too many details, so Apollo was glad for the change in topic... even if it was plenty unexpected. The number of people that had asked him such a question was... one, and that was back when Deputy Gavin had given him the interview for the job. He very much doubted that Mr. Yomiel would offer him a job, so where'd that curiosity come from?

"Well, sure, I've been 'round this city as long as I can remember. As for goin' into law..."

Having never seen him before this meeting, Apollo had to figure that the other man's chances of being a local were slim to none. The city might've been growing by the day, but Apollo's sure he's been around long enough to tell the permanent ones from the drifters. So in that case, it seemed it'd be safe to tell him more of the truth. Not everyone knew that Phoenix Wright was now a drunk and a gambler, but the permanent fixtures did, which was why the way he'd told it to Deputy Gavin had been in a much more vague and general manner.

"When I was still growin' up, the law here was downright talented - and the best of 'em was Deputy Phoenix Wright! That man was a real legend. He single-handedly unraveled the schemes of upwards of thirteen of the Los Angeles' most notorious criminals! Him and that Indian girl that always followed 'im around. ... So he was a real inspiration to me, you could say."

With that, Apollo scratches the back of his neck with a smile that's edging towards embarrassment. It had been a long time since he'd gotten to gush about Deputy Wright, and he wasn't too sure he didn't sound like a moron.

"Deputy Wright..."

He pronounces the name carefully, thoughtfully; as if he were testing it out on his tongue. The name rang a bell to him but it wasn't a very familiar one. If anything, Wright certainly wasn't one of the deputies who handled his arrest--perhaps he was before Yomiel's time or moved on? Then again this Apollo doesn't look that old, could very well have still been "growin' up" six years ago. Maybe Wright met his end at the hand of some criminal? Far be it the spirit's concern to keep track of every deputy around here.

"Can't say that name's too familiar to me but I'm no local, Mr. Justice. Sounds like a right, proper lawman though. So whatever happened to him?"

He nods his head slightly to one side in a quizzical gesture, conveying his genuine curiosity over the subject as his gloved hands find their way back to the pockets of his coat.

"Uh..."

Now this was the awkward part. It would've been better if he could tell Yomiel that Deputy Wright had suffered some kinda honorable death in the line of duty, but then what? He'd just be bound to find out different as soon as he mentioned it to someone else. Apollo's never been a fan of deception in the first place, so lying to him about this didn't seem overly worth it.

Apollo scuffs a muddy boot against the ground, glancing down again, "... There was a case about seven years ago. Some travelin' magicians came through and one of 'em was murdered here, with the other two as prime suspects. Don't know too many of the details, but they say he turned over evidence to the Sheriff that later proved to be false. So, he had his badge taken away. ... Doesn't seem like something he'd do, if you ask me, but that was a long time ago."

A long time ago, and Apollo had never gotten to meet the man. He only knew of Phoenix Wright's rise and fall through the newspapers, and by word of mouth. He didn't want to believe what he'd heard about him being a drunk now, either, but then he hadn't heard any dissent over that at all.

"...Ya don't say?"

Yomiel exhales something of an airy, thoughtful sound, gaze averted downstream. Seven years ago, he was still a living man back then. He was plenty busy with his job, his fiancee, didn't pay much mind to just another murder in a town like this.

"Well, I don't have too many good things to say 'bout the law here myself, no offense to you, Mr. Justice, but you're sayin' he might have concocted his own sort of evidence? Maybe he was set up. Framed. Wouldn't doubt that either."

He tries to remain matter-of-fact with that statement, not allowing his own bitterness over the matter to sink through. Sure he was saddled with someone else's crime back in the day but there's a part of him that seriously considers the possibility of having been framed. He can't quite imagine why anybody would do that, however...

"Well, it's an awful good reason to get into law, followin' a role model... Have you brought any decent criminals in, Mr. Justice? Not letting that Sheriff of yours make off with all the credit are you?"

Apollo had been expecting some sort of criticism, whether on himself or Mr. Wright, or at the least a more cynical statement about fallen heroes and the state of the world. So getting questions instead was a pleasant surprise, leaving Apollo blinking at him before he stops to seriously consider that prospect.

"It's temptin' to think he might've been framed, but I don't have any real knowledge of it one way or the other. I can't say for sure, so I can't properly throw in behind that notion. ... It wouldn't be the first time a good man's gone bad."

As much as Apollo would like to believe that Mr. Wright was innocent, a victim of a terrible injustice, he had to be realistic. It might work out that way for the heroes in dime novels, but it only rarely happened in the real world. What little esteem he had left for the idea of Mr. Wright's career was something Apollo treasured now, and was one of the main reasons he hadn't sought the man out to get his own answers. He was too afraid of what those answers would be.

The look on his face is actually edging more towards a smile at the next questions, and Apollo leans against his bike as he goes on,

"Heh, you know you're talkin' to the newest deputy, right? I haven't done much more yet than handle small crimes and disputes. I'm not even too sure the Sheriff would be around to take credit for nothin', not with the amount that man is on the move. I don't work for the Sheriff directly; I'm under Deputy Gavin, the German one."

Though, now that he thought about it, what Yomiel had mentioned earlier got him curious. "D'you have a reason to be unsatisfied with the law here, sir? I'm too new to be offended, if you're thinkin' that might stop you."

"It surprises me that you haven't talked to him," Yomiel states rather plainly. "If anyone would know it'd be him. Guess I can see why not. Could be right awkward, bet he gets inquiries every day."

The smile on his face has grown from one of casual amusement to something more genuine. It's been a long time, too long, since he's had the pleasure of casual conversation that held mutual interest for more than a second. And here he'd just come over to tease the guy. He nods in acknowledgement: it was easy enough to narrow down 'the German one'.

"Oh right, his name escapes me but I am aware of him. Quiet guy, but he comes with a bit of a reputation. I'll bet you'll do well under him, Mr. Justice."

He pauses a second to wonder just what'll happen in the power-vacuum wake of Cabanela's inevitable death. Maybe that Gavin would take his place, far be it Yomiel's place to care at that point. He'll be long gone. The next question from Apollo manages to catch him off his guard somewhere along this line of thought, almost as if the other were somehow able to read his mind. It leads to an eerily unblinking stare for a moment before a quick, bemused laugh escapes him.

"You could say that! Well alright, it's long before your time there anyway. Back when the sheriff was still green he made a foolish choice to be threatenin' an innocent man with the gallows. Scared him, made him run. That Cabanela and Deputy Jowd--they killed him for it and his betrothed went and hung herself in grief."

Yomiel shakes his head, the portrait of a solemn expression.

"'Course nobody was gonna believe his innocence and who cares about a couple more deaths 'round here? Well, I did, on both counts. It's been 'round six years since and I reckon nobody remembers. Don't think I could properly forgive them for it is all. Anyway it's just another story--everyone's got stories and the only thing that makes them important are people around to care about them. Just a swan song of one bad deed among many, surely someone like you understands."

Edited 2012-07-20 05:28 (UTC)

"Uh, y'see... I've been too busy to seek 'em out! And there's no tellin' if his own mind would remember the events quite right, after all these years. ... Heh, but it's mighty nice that you think so. I'm hopin' I'll do well under him, too."

It was a flimsy excuse for not having visited Mr. Wright, but Apollo was thankfully saved from having to elaborate any further. As Yomiel launches into the tale, Apollo goes quiet, his mouth slowly pulling into a frown the longer he listens.

Though he didn't want to say it, that story of his seemed almost too tragic to believe. And Sheriff Cabanela? Killing an innocent man? That was downright unheard of. Cabanela had a record as spotless as new-fallen snow, having stuck to by-the-book so good that they say the Judge hadn't even so much as scolded him for a single thing. Apollo didn't know the man too well, but he'd heard nothing but good about him for a long time. Now, this stranger was claiming that there was something decidedly not-good lurking back in the Sheriff's history, and it was hard to know what to think.

"... You're not pullin' my leg, are you?" Apollo asks it slowly, watching him with a furrowed brow. "I sure never heard of such a thing. It was before my time, as you said, but ... a lady hangin' herself, that don't happen too often here. It's not supposed to happen." Sure, there was the occasional suicide like with everywhere, but it was an atrocious thing to consider. It got bad enough with the level of violence and death in the city, without folks up and offing themselves to add to it.

"And I don't think I can rightly agree with your opinion on stories. If what you said happened, that makes it history, not just some cautionary tale to forget about. ... This man you spoke of, what happened to make folks think he was so guilty?"

Call it his natural curiosity, but Apollo wanted to know more, wanted to know enough to judge if it could be a fib. Maybe no one would pay enough mind to a suicide to remember it six years later, but a good criminal would be a lot harder to forget. If he could hear it from more than one person, then that would be a sure sign that there was some kinda truth in it after all.

Yomiel exhales something of an airy laugh--an empty sound, the sound of someone laughing at something painful in retrospect or self-defense.

"You don't have to believe me, Mr. Justice, wouldn't surprise me one bit nor would it do a thing to change the truth. I don't think anyone wants to acknowledge that incident, in fact I've watched them go along pretendin' it didn't happen at all. She was dreadfully pretty, his betrothed, didn't have to go and do something like that... Smart too, she coulda been successful or had a family, proper waste of a person goin' out like that."

He frowns to himself more than anything, shooting his gaze away quickly as if in thought while Apollo continues speaking.

"... And what's so important about a tale like that?" he asks, gaze flickering back. "It's already history alright, just a penny's worth of space in a couple newspapers. Look it up if your office bothered to keep em: December of 1888."

It was true, the papers hardly knew what to publish considering how quiet the sheriff's office was about it. Jowd claimed to have killed the suspected criminal when he fled and that was that. The body sure looked like it'd been shot, only Jowd would know otherwise--and Cabanela the only person told the truth of the bizarre death once Jowd found it fit to tell him. What made better news was how a falling star landed outside town; nobody wanted to hear about more deaths.

"He was suspected of robbery and a murder that took place during one. He was a person from out of town who was intimately involved in the banks as of late so they turned to him first. Crazy the way they treated him, a city fella, he wouldnt've killed a fly if it bit him. I guess that's good a reason as any to be in disagreement with the law 'round these parts."

He hunches his shoulders in a quick, defeated shrug.

"I reckon nobody cares about it as they never figured out what really happened with those banks. As far as they're concerned, he's their man. It's a cryin' shame, dead men sure do tell a lot of tales, just ain't no one around to hear it."

The ghost cracks a smile at this, looking oddly like he's restraining a laugh despite the morose story.

"Thank ye for hearin' me out, Deputy, you like like a good kid so I hope fate sees it fit to bring you less troubles."

Apollo moved a hand up as he listened, pressing a finger against his forehead with a moue of concentration. This tale had already caught his curiosity, even if the circumstances were on the strange side. He never would've reckoned that a stranger'd come up to him and out of the blue mention an old crime no one else cared to recall.

"I'm not doubtin' you for the sake of it, Mr. Yomiel. You seem to be speakin' from experience in the first place, but I'm just gonna need more proof than what a talk can get me. I think I will try lookin' for those papers. There's gotta be some sort of record of it..."

It truly sounded like Yomiel was here when it happened, and must have known the dead couple personally. Even aside from how detailed Yomiel's story was getting, Apollo didn't think the man was lying. Call it a hunch ... one he didn't particularly want to believe in, but there all the same. If the Sheriff's Office had really caused the death of an innocent, then there was someone that had escaped being held accountable. And that didn't sit well with Apollo, either.

"The difference between a story and history, sir, is that a story's made up. It matters 'cause real people died. I know it's easy for most to treat the newspaper's words like it don't matter to 'em, but I'm not one of those people."

... Never mind that he only ever flipped through the newspaper for those clever little editorial cartoons. The news around here was most often depressing, and he heard most of what he needed to from the talk around town instead.

"That's mighty kind of you, Mr. Yomiel, but I'd go so far as call hearin' people out part of my job. ... I'll be hopin' to see a little less trouble, anyway." Apollo gives him a faint smile in return, idly wondering what the other man could possibly be so amused over.

"I understand, Mr. Justice. Someone in your position can't go takin' every tale on word alone, can ya? I hope you find those papers, you'll get more information outta those than anything either of the men involved will offer, m'sure."

Cabanela was working double-time to wipe that particular stain off his coat and Jowd was preoccupied with awaiting the gallows in jail. Yomiel shifts his attention to his company's bike, looking though it, seeing that woman with the lavender hair sprawled dying on the floor before him, blood seeping into her spotless floor boards--her house was impeccably clean.

"People die 'round here every other day. I reckon after a while, people stop carin'. Maybe someday you'll end up the same with a position like yours, Deputy. Hold on to it while you can, I suppose."

He offers the other a more sincere smile again, eyes lifted from that dirtied bike. He knows fully well that Apollo will likely come across the name 'Yomiel' in that article. At the most, he'll come off as someone using an alias so long as the deputy doesn't dig up any photographs. That might be worth a laugh. Regardless, he might never see this man again. He wouldn't have even approached him today were it not for the circumstances. There's a strange pang associated with this feeling, a tinge of regret maybe; he really did enjoy conversing with this guy, it's kind of a shame. He shouldn't be messing with the law around here anyway. Shouldn't.

"Not so sure hearin' out somethin' that happened before your time is your job sir, dontchya got more current cases to be worryin' about? You gotta bike to worry about keeping out of the river too, by the looks of it."

He breathes a quick, playful laugh as he shifts his hands in his pockets, taking a preemptive half-step backward.

True or not, Apollo wasn't about to ask either of them about the incident. He couldn't very well accuse the sheriff of making such a bad mistake when he worked for him, and Jowd ... well, Apollo had never much liked poking his head into the jail. He had never so much as shared words with the former deputy, and wasn't all that keen on doing it now.

He can't see the other's mile-long stare, thanks to those glasses he's wearing, but Apollo still gets the sense that he's a mite distracted. The mention of work makes Apollo wince a little, and he speaks up again with a slightly nervous laugh,

"Well yeah, I got other work, but there's the concerns of the community to think about! 'Sides, I'm in the business of Justice, and don't you forget it. Means I'm not plannin' on ever becomin' that callous, Mr. Yomiel."

And he really should be getting back to his work, as interesting as this was. Apollo didn't have cases yet, just the paperwork Deputy Gavin kept giving him to get him used to doing it. He would much rather stay out here in the sunshine talking about mysteries and injustice... but any longer and he'd get scolded for leaving the office, and he doubted Deputy Gavin would care much that he'd left because of a bicycle thief.

"I'd better head on back. I'll see you 'round, Mr. Yomiel. ... And if you do remember more about that incident you told me, I'd be happy to hear it."

Apollo briefly tips his hat to the other man before walking a couple of paces away, then hopping up on his bike. Using it had never bothered him much before, but after criticism of its capabilities, Apollo felt a little awkward about it.

Yomiel cracks a smile at this, genuinely amused with Apollo's pun as he nods his head.

"Well alright, alright, don't let me keep ya from the more pressin' matters at hand, Mr. Justice."

He breathes out a pleasant chortle on borrowed air, taking a step backward, raising a hand to send him off with a two fingered salute.

"Sure thing, I'll see ya around. Take care."

He waits for a moment even as the other is on his way out, watching him ride off. Well, that was a nice reprieve, now he's sent his guy off on a hunt for something that'll undoubtedly serve to confuse him... There's another thought though, a creeping malign one that says 'maybe he'll somehow forget all about you like he never even saw ya, maybe he was just humoring you, doesn't matter 'cause you probably won't be seeing him again anyway.'

Oh well. Dropping the pretenses of casual conversation he doesn't put into action his desire to sigh. The corpse haphazardly stuffs his hands in his pockets, strolling off down along the river to make his way back to his newest abandoned residence. No way to live, but he supposes he's not really living to begin with.

Flat | Top-Level Comments Only

June 6th, 1894

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