Glade 35, 122
Franky was walking along Willowby Street, having just left Lilliman's. He was adorned in his perfectly tailored suit, made from lighter, breathable material, perfect for the coming warmth of summer. Beside him, the young lad, Derden, who ran papers for Franky. The boy was now head of all the newsies in the network, and delivered exclusively for Franky. The boy had been doing good work, and now Franky had given him a bonus, as he was walking alongside him, in a brand new suit as well, with a hat the lad picked out. They were on their way back to the Knob when they passed Edgart's Clinic.
Franky paused, remembering the last time the pair of them had been here. The shop looked dusty, unopened, the windows were dirty and the dirty snow had not been cleared from the steps to the door despite not having snowed recently. "Edgart never got found?"
Derden shrugged, "I ain't 'eard nothin'. Reconciliators prolly scooped 'im up. I 'eard 'e was tryin' to get better conditions for us common folks, Mister Franky. Ain't been seen since."
A small grunt and nod from Franky. "And no one else has come forward as a healer?"
Derden snorted, "All the good 'ealers get snatched up by the richers on West End."
Made since to Franky.
"Thank you Derden. I got business to attend to." The young lad nodded and trotted off in his new outfit. Franky glanced back over at the Clinic, an idea forming. If the rich were making claim to the healers of Zaichaer, than any unclaimed would be a powerful ally. It was time for a visit.
A short walk, Franky entered the Office of Real Estate for West End. The office was nice, well adorned, and staffed exclusively by humans. Franky walked up to the receptionist, who seemed quite surprised to see him there. The young man was a professional though, "Can I help you, sir? Are you lost?"
Franky's face broke into a sharpened, toothy grin, "I'm right where I need to be, thank you."
Franky removed his hat, showing off just how not human he was, "I would like to speak with whomever oversees properties on Willowby Street. I'm looking to make a purchase."
The man looked surprised, "Do you have an appointment?"
Franky's grin only grew, time to play the role of someone with enough money to be impolite. Which he did. "Why do you think I'm here?" It was a short retort, just enough to display a hint of annoyance, but not enough to be confused for feral or bestial as many considered his type.
"Yes sir. I believe they've got time shortly. If you'd sit over there, I will make the arrangements."
"Thank you." Franky looked at the name plate, "Gilligan."
Franky walked over to the sofa, unbuttoning the bottom button on his jacket, sitting down. He crossed one leg over his knee and waited with his hands sitting on his raised knee. And he watched, and waited. A few minutes later, the man returned, "Were you looking for a specific property?"
A sarcastic slow blink of the eyes and a slight tease of an annoyed smile, "Yes. Edgart's Clinic. I've noticed it has been vacant for some time. A derelict property on Willowby? Not a good look. Could run down property values. I'd like to fix that."
Gilligan nodded and went back into the back, presumably to speak with whomever was in charge of the Willowby properties.
