Puddles and Whiskers, Expansion & Revision 17

Part of what I hoped would read like a montage to quickly cover what Puddles and Whiskers did after the end of the case at Titan. In my eyes they were supposed to be quick and short with enough information to keep readers in the loop, but not so much to bog down. However, when reading each of them; too short, not enough information. Thus…this…the cycle of draft and revision. 🙂

A conversation in an office…

A weak knock, so weak Puddles did not hear the first five; Whiskers saw here on the door camera. A weak shuffling, halting gait to the desk. A weak voice, a whisper barely heard and she was sitting across from Puddles. Weak clothing, brown, non-descript wageslave uniform of whatever corp employed her.

Puddles recalled yesterday’s conversation after noodles, “We need more clients,” Whiskers said.

“We need to find who screwed us and get our isstas,” she responded.

“Until then,” Whiskers replied while handing her his tablet, “we have a list of potential clients. We need the isstas.”

“Fine.”

“Be on your better behavior around the clients.”

“I’ll try,” Puddles responded with a smirk.

Camile Harowe, the first potential client on the list, continued to irritate Puddles with her very presence. Giving Whisker the particulars of her case, sitting in front of their desk where Puddles side and Whiskers side clashed, she couldn’t decide which of them to speak to so she choose both. Wringing her hands, eyes pooling with tears, and that pungent odor of perfume didn’t mask her stench of desperation.

“Gathering evidence of your husband’s infidelities, should take us a week,” Whisker said while consulting his data-pad. Sliding the data-pad across his immaculately clean side of the desk, “Sign at the bottom and once the issta transfer is confirmed we will take the job.”

Puddles stifled an irritated grunt, catching cheating spouses-so low rent.

“Thank you so much,” the woman replied, “I hope I am wrong. I love him so much…”

“But you have a hunch,” Puddles interrupted as she snatching the data-pad back.

Whiskers grabbed the data-pad out of Puddles paw before the data-pad got lost in the mess of her side of the desk, “Thank you Camile. We will be in touch.”

As soon as the door closed, “What nickname did you give this client?”

Another conversation in a police office…

Shouting police officers, suspects, and victims wagged an auditory war with the numerous blaring holos and vid screens around the booking room. The constant barrage of noise bothered Whiskers deeply. Folding his ears down only muted the noise in the police station a little. Checking his phone, a message from Puddles, preliminary research underway; an image of Puddles smiling in front of Love Buy the Hour. Whiskers smiled and mentally checked off a box in the case file.

“He can see you now,” a young female Illietheril officer said.

“Thank you officer,” Whiskers replied.

Whiskers stepped out of the crowded booking room into the back offices. Silence or the closest thing to silence in the hallway. With each step quiet and quieter, until Whiskers stood outside an office for a giant. Standing in the doorway Whiskers could stretch his arms out to either side and not touch the doorframe. Sitting, he hoped, behind a giant desk, Officer Tanx beckoned Whiskers in.

“Whiskers, come on in,” Tanx said.

Stepping into Tanx’s office Whiskers said, “You have a very spacious office.”

“That’s funny,” Tanx’s laughter rumbled around his office, “Haven’t heard that one before.” Another rumbling laugh, “Spacious office, indeed. Detective Orte sent you to me because I might know something, did I get that right?”

Until sitting in Officer Tanx’s office, Whiskers thought he was tall, staring up at Tanx’s face brought home lots of uncomfortable memories of sitting at the children’s table for holidays. “He thought you might know someone who could answer some questions of ours.”

“And what questions are those?”

Sitting straighter, Whiskers consulted his data-pad, “Recently, an investigation took us into Tumbledown where we found a well-equipped gang defending a clean room.”

“And you want to know who is providing the equipment and the clean room?” Tanx interrupted while manipulating his holo-desk display. “Is this your investigation?” Tanx sarcastically asked; enlarging the holo-display. Images of several dead gang members and a demolished clean room.

Clearing his throat, thankful Puddles was not there, “Yes. That looks like our investigation.”

“The gangers were members of Black Myst. Nothing special about them, just another Tumbledown gang. The personal shield is an Oakenshield model. Again, nothing special. The clean room, by the time investigations arrived, was no longer clean and…”

“Let me guess,” Whiskers interjected, “Nothing special.”

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