Generally, identifying one’s self as an Exile was a relatively easy process.
Gerick’s file had dating, and notations.
She honestly hadn’t known the true purpose of her sudden digging on the man, save that niddering sense that she wasn’t necessarily seeing the whole picture to him. What was then left before her to be seen, had the Judge lost in a certain wave of—
What did she even feel?
Defected, it said.
Previous suspicions lessened.
How many years of laying low did it take before you felt like you could act, though?
Silas pushed to her feet, swiping a hand to tack off the display as she grabbed her coat and headed out.
She needed to see for herself.
Had she been letting a snake curl around her ankle?
Gerick happily walked down the street with a big old loaf of Marble bread he picked up at the local coffee shop. It was a rather nice day out and couldn’t wait to get home before shoved a slice of the tasty baked good into his mouth.
When he finely got home he fumbled with the lock trying to open the door. After a minute or two the door finally slid open. He deposited the bread on his desk and went to the second level to change into something cooler.
It would have been his luck that as soon as he had ascended to the second level, a loud series of knocks barraged the door.
When he wasn’t out and about Gerick was thankfully easy enough to find. It seemed, do the lack of any signs of disuse, that he was likely in-residence at his house, and not out on any manner of explorations.
“Open up!” she yelled, leaning back and resting a hand at her hip after she gave another sound knock.