Not All Is As Seems

Not This Kid Again

The kid bounced up and down, eagerly awaiting my reaction.

This kid didn't actually expect to get an answer, did he? I mean come on, his hair looks like it was in an incident involving a blueberry jam factory. Not to mention his choice of accessory, which looks like it went on sale at the dollar store or something. I mean, who wears glowing lightning bolt necklaces and expect to be taken seriously?

I push the kid aside. Believe it or not, I already know them. You see, I tend to inform myself about everyone who comes within the city limits. This Emo Blueberry was recently kicked off the police force. Do I know why? Of course not. I have another 8,550,404 people to look into, I needn't waste all my time looking into one person. Barely anyone is worth that time. 

I stride back to the office building, with Ms Meadows close behind. Now, before when I said we're done, I more or less meant I was done with the meeting. There is a bit more I need to arrange, but that is something I can do without the presence of someone else. I would have told Ms. Meadows off, but she didn't really seem to be paying attention, as if almost in a trance.

I have an assumption of why, and I don't like the reason I'm thinking. I'm wishing really hard right now that I'm wrong. The thing is, I'm never wrong.

*****

I keep the door open for Ms Meadows as she trails in, still in some sort of hypnotic state. Just as I'm about to let go of the door, the kid given the boot by the NYPD dashes in. I distastefully glare at him as the door slowly closes behind him.

Ms Meadows seems to snap from her trance at the sight of the Emo Blueberry, as she snatches a knife from her leg holster, and whips it out to press against his throat. I could step in, but if she barely scratched a murderer, I highly doubt she'd hurt some edgy kid going through a phase.

Ms Meadows demands, " What do you want? Who sent you? It was that hot dog vendor who gave me that dirty look for wanting ketchup, wasn't it?" This lady needs to take a break, she looks like she's scaring the hell out of the kid. He looks like it's taking all his effort just to keep from crying, but that effort doesn't seem to extend to keeping his body steady. He's trembling so much, I feel he might be experiencing a 7.0 earthquake, which for some reason no one else can feel.

"I have no idea what you are talking about, " he whimpered. He took a desperate gasp, then squeaked, "Please get off of me, you're hurting me."

"Hey Ms.Meadows, but the bloody knife down. Let the wannabe Minecraft YouTuber speak before I throw him out of my office." I actually happen to simply be borrowing this office, so it technically isn't mine. If it was, the likes of Ms Meadows and Mr Maximoff, that's right I know his name, I've just been choosing to refer to him by his hair instead, wouldn't have even made it within this building. 

"What the hell is Minecraft?" That, good sir, is a game that's dead, very similar to what may happen to you if you don't dismiss yourself from this room.

Ms Meadows's attention is transfixed on the Cheap Blueberry's eyes, which made me worry increase by the slightest, but then I figured I was probably wrong. You see, Mr Covenski has something referred to as heterochromia. To be more specific, sectoral or partial heterochromia. Most of his irises are a comet tint of blue, however, the lower area of his irises are a blood red. 

Mesmerizing? Sure, but their allure can't make up for Mr Covenski's lack of fashion sense. Honestly, who thinks it's a good idea to wear blue and black camouflage shoes paired with a tan leather jacket? Ms Meadows seems to have switched her gaze to the cheap looking necklace of Mr Maximoff. 

A look of worry takes over her face as she gazes into the necklace. I realise she's looking at her reflection in it. Ms Meadows looks over to me, almost desperately. Her forest green eyes have changed to emanate a bright light, a similar shade to a goldmound spirea.