Back in town

With a sigh Gristlefist dropped into his office chair in his hollow. He had a lot of work to do now that he returned home after his business trip through the USA. Oh, business went well - he made quite a bit of money, but that wasn't even the important part.

He reached around for his filing cabinet and pulled out the top drawer. It groaned, as if the information it contained was the reason for its conscience keeping it awake at night - which would be absurd, if it were a regular filing cabinet, which it wasn't. He took out a new folder and laid it neatly on his desk. "Akron, OH" he wrote in clear block capitals. He waited for the ink to dry and opened the folder - there was a sheet of paper lying readily to absorb the dark little secrets he knew about his customers: rumors, results of his investigations or simply parts of his contract, each and every piece of information worth more than gold (but it's a quite close call, really).
As he copied the information concerning several Changelings around the states from his notebook and his filing cabinet accompanied the movements of his pen with a hoarse wisper. "...cheated on his wife...breaks into houses of rich people, living their life...occasionally kills homeless people..." As the hours went by, page after page got filled with names, promises and secrets; every time he turned the full sheet he found another one - empty - lying there (a trick he always liked the most about this faerie cabinet).
Ohio wasn't the only state where he has made his business, of course; he had been to the states of Iowa, Idaho, Colorado, Oklahoma and many more, but he had all the time he wanted. After all he had been away for some time and hadn't any commitments here in Sakramento, yet. He briefly wondered if they remembered him, or if he'd knew any of the freehold's inhabitants nowadays, but that wasn't that important. If he saw some old 'friends', it'd be all the better, but he didn't mind new faces, either. "Anyway.", he muttered, as he shoved those currently unimportant thoughts aside.
Work had to be done. He wrote for hours upon hours, the red light of the glowing rubies dousing the room into a bloodlike-color (and didn't the walls start to bleed as soon as he started his chores?) and making Gristlefists eyes appear like a wickedly shining amber. The filing cabinet wispered.


It's good to be home again.