He could take the tape in his pocket back to the table set up for exchanging items, but where's the fun in that? Boring.
He's clad in a dark gray suit, no tie, deep purple shirt open at the collar, his hands tucked in his trouser pockets as he surveys the courtyard from the doorway. He spent the last thirty minutes occupying himself indoors with studying every young woman the right age to be any of the girls in the video, narrowing it down further by facial bone structure, posture, and other physical cues. He's approached the likely candidates to say hello or ask a question, anything to get them to talk, because John Watson isn't here to tell him that's creepy he wants to hear them speak, to let the accent the tape's rightful owner must have confirm the identification.
There are two--no, three young women out there who could be the person he needs to give this to. He's not sure how much he believes in the supposed wrath of the local gods, but it doesn't cause him any harm or particular trouble to give back the tape (after viewing it. He thinks, for a moment, that he'll approach the lady nearest the door first, but a subtle rise in the light level elsewhere draws his attention. It's happening right where the second candidate is standing, and he's sure he saw her withdraw her hand from the string of lights hanging there as he refocused his attention on her.
He fixes his best attempt at an affable smile on his face (it's not bad, he might get away with it in the low light and party setting) and he moves out into the courtyard, pretending to wander aimlessly, until he reaches her. "Oh, aren't they lovely," he says, glancing up at the lights. "Rather festive, don't you think?"
no subject
He's clad in a dark gray suit, no tie, deep purple shirt open at the collar, his hands tucked in his trouser pockets as he surveys the courtyard from the doorway. He spent the last thirty minutes occupying himself indoors with studying every young woman the right age to be any of the girls in the video, narrowing it down further by facial bone structure, posture, and other physical cues. He's approached the likely candidates to say hello or ask a question, anything to get them to talk, because
John Watson isn't here to tell him that's creepyhe wants to hear them speak, to let the accent the tape's rightful owner must have confirm the identification.There are two--no, three young women out there who could be the person he needs to give this to. He's not sure how much he believes in the supposed wrath of the local gods, but it doesn't cause him any harm or particular trouble to give back the tape (after viewing it. He thinks, for a moment, that he'll approach the lady nearest the door first, but a subtle rise in the light level elsewhere draws his attention. It's happening right where the second candidate is standing, and he's sure he saw her withdraw her hand from the string of lights hanging there as he refocused his attention on her.
He fixes his best attempt at an affable smile on his face (it's not bad, he might get away with it in the low light and party setting) and he moves out into the courtyard, pretending to wander aimlessly, until he reaches her. "Oh, aren't they lovely," he says, glancing up at the lights. "Rather festive, don't you think?"