View source for Logs:It's Not Stalking If It's Legal

{{Log
|chars=[[Gareth]],[[Solomon]]
|gamedate=2022.08.21
|summary=Solomon hires Gareth to run surveillance. It's totally legal!
|categories=Mortal+, Changeling
|log='''TRIGGER WARNINGS: Discussions of domestic abuse and child endangerment'''

An honest to god client has called Gareth and set up a meeting! Gareth tried not to be *too* excited or eager on the phone, but the very fact his client can arrange an actual meeting room at the University library suggests that he might be actually good for the money. So, Gareth has made his way here, actually *early* for once, his hair under some form of control, and now enters the meeting room, a notepad and pen pulled out of the pocket of his jacket - ready to scribble.

Despite it being Sunday and towards the very beginning of the semester, the library is bustling. The grad student working the desk leads Gareth to the meeting room; it's in line with the Brutalist building: small and utilitarian, with a single wooden study table, and some lockable cabinets along the walls. No distracting artwork or windows.

Solomon is here; and he's definitely faculty or staff - he's wearing a suit, clearly in his mid-thirties at the youngest, and looks _tremendously_ hungover. But the sort where you're trying to hide it through sheer power of will. He already has an unsettling air around him, but the bloodshot eyes and aura of grim determination don't help. He stands as Gareth enters and extends a hand, looking the man over. His expression shades a touch skeptical, but he says, "Mr. Evans. Thank you for meeting me on such short notice." His voice is controlled and quiet in that way that can't help but be a little menacing - and probably isn't trying not to be. A flick of his fingers at one of the other chairs (hard, wooden, meant to keep a student awake even in the most boring of times). "Did you find it alright?"

Gareth is *probably* in his early thirties, though his bird-nest hair that's been *mostly* tamed seems to skew him younger. The world-weary look in his eyes does not. He takes the offered hand, shaking it firmly with one noodly arm, eyes taking in every aspect of Solomon, the PI thoughtful as he takes in the other man's appearance. He is, however, polite enough to say nothing about it as he takes a seat. "Dr. Jessup. I did, thank you, I wasn't lucky enough to study here, but I have made a few visits in my time," he offers with an incline of his head. "On the phone you suggested that it was a matter you'd like to have dealt with as soon as possible?" he queries.

Solomon smiles, although it seems a bit perfunctory. "Now, that's intriguing. But I'll restrain my curiosity so that you don't have to tell me to mind my own business." He takes a seat once Gareth does, and settles into the chair. For two bony men, they are very uncomfortable chairs. "And, yes. Or at least begun as soon as possible. I'd like you to do surveillance on someone." He pauses there, head cocked to one side to see if there's an immediate protest.

"It is appreciated," Gareth agrees with a slight smile, though he doesn't seem wont to linger over the question of what he was doing here. There is the slightest droop of his shoulders at the request from Solomon, like the prospect isn't quite as exciting as whatever he had cooked up in his own head. He turns a page on his notebook, jotting down some notes before he stops, pen hovering over the pen. "Ex or current lover?" he queries.

Solomon blinks, and actually jerks back a little at the thought, an involuntary sort of recoil. "Neither," he snaps. Then, in the next moment, grimaces. "Sorry. I know that's probably the most common." He reaches into his jacket to pull out some papers. It's a neatly handwritten name - Deborah Rosen - and address on the south side of town. Not one of the nicer neighborhoods by any means. There's also a picture, clearly taken at a distance and covertly, of a tired woman in her late twenties. The dark hair and blue eyes suggest that she might be related to Solomon, although her features are put together in a more pleasing way than his. Aside from the shadow of either bruises or dirt on her neck; from this distance it's difficult to tell.

Gareth winces at the reaction from Solomon. "Sorry," he offers in turn, even as he reaches to take the papers to look over them. "I shouldn't have assumed, it's..." he makes a face. "...*common*," he agrees. "It's not my favourite." There's a long pause as he picks up the photo, looking over it carefully, his eyes flicking up to Solomon occasionally and back to the photo. "If not a lover, past or present, a relation of yours?" he queries. "Cousin, perhaps, or sister? Different last name to you, so if sister, probably married." He squints at the photo. "And you're worried her partner or someone is abusing her in some way, but you're estranged otherwise you'd ask her yourself."

Solomon's expression goes stony as soon as Gareth starts making deductions. His gaze skitters away, and he looks at the wall. Finally, a soft huff. "Younger sister," he admits. "And I don't worry. I know he's abusing her, that fucking asshole. But--she doesn't want to see or talk to me. I just want someone to," a long pause, "keep an eye on her. Tell me if anything changes or seems to get worse. Or better." His tone suggests 'better' isn't something he considers likely. "Don't let her see you. She'll only be upset if she thinks I'm involved."

Gareth watches Solomon carefully, putting the photo down and glancing over the address again. "Dr. Jessup," he says, his voice soft, like he's trying to be careful about how he says this, like he's breaking bad news. "Guys like that... they don't get better," he says, speaking the truth they both know out loud. "And they don't usually stay the same either. Is he," he searches for the word. "'connected'?" he asks. "Because here's the thing, if I watch her, eventually I'm going to see something. And I can document it, I can note down every observation, take photographs, and hand it off to the cops if you ask me to. But if he's teflon, and nothing sticks? You're gonna have to make a decision about it. So I guess what I'm asking is - what do you really want from this?"

Solomon shakes his head. If anything, there's a flicker of amusement, not offense, in his eyes. "He's not that connected. Petty crime, and he's probably got a couple of cop friends. But it's more...she's gotta make the decision, Mr. Evans. If she says yes, I want to leave him, then I can do something. But I can't take the choice away from her. I get him arrested and she'll bail him out. I kick his--" he pauses, seems to realize that he's in his workplace and edits, "I take direct action, and she'll be sympathetic to him. She's every bit as stubborn as I am." Said with a sad, melancholy fondness. "Even if the guy somehow disappeared, unless she is ready to leave him, she'll go _looking_ for him."

"I think I know a few things about stubbornness," Gareth agrees with a small nod, the edges of his lips turning upwards. "Okay. I'll watch her, let you know if it gets worse, and if... anything happens," he says diplomatically. "I will get evidence, so when she does leave him, you've got everything you need to put him away for a long time," he says, hardness entering his voice briefly before he looks back to the photo. "Are there kids involved?" he asks, his voice suddenly *very* neutral, and *very* blank.

Solomon takes a deep breath and lets it out, his shoulders fractionally lowering with a hint of relief. "Thank you. I'll pay whatever your usual rate is, of course. I assume there would be an advance. I brought cash, but if you'd prefer a card, that's fine." At the last question, he grimaces. Then nods. "One. Going on a year. He hasn't touched the kid, yet." And the way he says 'yet' has a weary conviction that, yes, eventually things will escalate in that direction.

Gareth tenses, his lips thinning as he presses them together, knuckles of the pen-holding hand going white. He's quiet for a long moment before he just nods. "Okay," he says, his voice still devoid of emotion or tone. "Cash is fine." The rate he names is definitely on the cheaper side, whether or not that's his usual rate is unclear.

Solomon doesn't miss Gareth's reaction. He reaches back into the interior of his suit jacket, pulls out an envelope that clearly has a healthy amount of something in it, but rather than hand it over immediately, he says, "Can you do this, Mr. Evans? I'm aware that a lot of people couldn't. And that those who could do it easily would be...people I wouldn't necessarily want around my sister in the first place. But I will be _upset_ if you charge in and blow this situation up before I - or she - are ready." His voice is flat, the weird blue gaze assessing. "If this is going to be a problem, then tell me now."

Gareth gives Solomon a wry look, colour reentering his face as he forces himself to relax. "Dr. Jessup, did you take a look at me when I walked in?" he asks wryly. "I suspect in a fight between me and your sister's child, the one-year-old would win. I am not going to charge in to anything. People who hurt children are the lowest of the low, and if I see that happen, I *will* call the police," he says, venom slipping into his voice before he manages to catch it. "However," he pauses, taking in Solomon with an assessing look, "I suspect that would be your sister's breaking point too. If those terms are not acceptable, then please tell me."

Solomon makes an amused noise. "I don't judge based on what people _appear_ to be capable of, Mr. Evans. The masks we wear don't speak to the depths of our heart. And it doesn't take upper body strength to pull a trigger." That said, he seems to be otherwise agreeable, bobbing his head at the terms offered. "The only thing I ask is that after you call the cops, you call me. Let's face it - in that neighborhood, I'll probably get there faster." With that, he hands over the envelope, although he adds, casually, "You don't think much of your ability if that's what you're charging."

Gareth takes the envelope from Solomon, nodding slightly. "I can always call you first," he offers, scratching at his chin before tucking the envelope into his coat pocket. "I don't like people that hurt kids, Dr. Jessup. And I save my higher rates for the jobs that do nothing but soothe or confirm someone's jealousy. Plus, who knows when I'll need a forensic entomologist on side?" he says, standing. "Never know what I'm going to trip over in Chicago. I'll keep you updated regularly, Dr. Jessup."

Solomon stands with Gareth. "I leave it to your discretion," he says with a shrug. "And I'd be exceptionally concerned if you were positive towards child abusers," he adds, voice very dry. "That said, thank you for taking the case. Here," he offers a business card. "This has my personal cell on it, as well. Call me whenever you need. Including," a brief smile, "if you decide you _do_ need a forensic entomologist."

Gareth takes the card and nods, flashing Solomon a smile. "And you have my number, should you need anything," he says cheerfully, and sweeps out of the door. The effect is slightly spoiled by his coat snagging on the door handle, his cheeks flushing as he struggles to free himself. And then he's gone. Smooth.
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