If Number Three feels irritated or out of place, then no doubt these sentiments are shared by her brother. Freshly arrived to this particular time and place (no, don't bother explaining to him the concepts he is already acutely familiar with—in fact, why don't you read the folder because then you'd stop wasting his time), Five isn't one to meander about unnecessarily. It's against his training and against his character, frankly, so he quickly sets his mind at task.
After buying coffee from a street vendor, he scrolls through his communicator; the crowds on the way to the "porter" for Nonah mean nothing. Even in this whip-thin boyish body, he blinks from one space to the next, here and gone in a second. No push, no shove, no hindrance from these people who gape at the newest imPort. It's when he's stepped foot in what is supposed to be his new hometown that he finds what he's looking for in the name registry.
Hargreeves, Allison.
There, now isn't that easy?
This man out of time has spent plenty of his in other spaces, enough to understand these little devices and how to find a mark. Or, in this case, find a sibling. He doesn't act rash, of course. There's plenty of time to decide the best course of action; working for the Temps Commission, indebted to their cause, has given him a unique perspective. So he drinks his cooling coffee (they should clean the pots more, he can taste the lingering burnt bitterness), and he wonders what he'll come across. Or when, or who. It might be advantageous to observe things quietly—
Ah, but the people of Nonah are so loud. Giving a disapproving look to a group of girls who pass by, he just so happens to overhear them gossip. Umbrella Academy, one says; I heard a rumor, la-dee-da, and so on. Most of it is rubbish, so there's no point in sticking around when he has what he needs.
A blink, and space bends to his will. A blink, and he's there, just across the street from her. Five tosses the empty cup in a trash can, slides his hands in his pockets. Teenage Allison, well, that's certainly something. He sighs and waits to catch her eye.
☂
After buying coffee from a street vendor, he scrolls through his communicator; the crowds on the way to the "porter" for Nonah mean nothing. Even in this whip-thin boyish body, he blinks from one space to the next, here and gone in a second. No push, no shove, no hindrance from these people who gape at the newest imPort. It's when he's stepped foot in what is supposed to be his new hometown that he finds what he's looking for in the name registry.
Hargreeves, Allison.
There, now isn't that easy?
This man out of time has spent plenty of his in other spaces, enough to understand these little devices and how to find a mark. Or, in this case, find a sibling. He doesn't act rash, of course. There's plenty of time to decide the best course of action; working for the Temps Commission, indebted to their cause, has given him a unique perspective. So he drinks his cooling coffee (they should clean the pots more, he can taste the lingering burnt bitterness), and he wonders what he'll come across. Or when, or who. It might be advantageous to observe things quietly—
Ah, but the people of Nonah are so loud. Giving a disapproving look to a group of girls who pass by, he just so happens to overhear them gossip. Umbrella Academy, one says; I heard a rumor, la-dee-da, and so on. Most of it is rubbish, so there's no point in sticking around when he has what he needs.
A blink, and space bends to his will. A blink, and he's there, just across the street from her. Five tosses the empty cup in a trash can, slides his hands in his pockets. Teenage Allison, well, that's certainly something. He sighs and waits to catch her eye.