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[discocop]

[There is some vague, sad singing on the line. The words are slurred beyond recognition. Actually, he may just be making melodic moaning sounds.

After a moment, the horrific noise gives way to a beep, ready to record your message.]

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sometime in the middle of march

[pinballs]

[It's hard not to notice the sound of a Coupris Kineema driving down the road. The motor hums and buzzes almost like some sort of klaxon call, if the klaxon had somehow fused with a swarm of wasps in the process. Most people would complain about the noise, but for Kim, it's almost a point of pride. It's as if he can hear the motorcarriage speaking to him in a language only he can understand--a secret shared between machine and man.

Of course, it would be ridiculous to pretend you could hold an actual conversation with a car. Or any inanimate object. But the idea is there.

Really, he's just thankful to be in a place that isn't in danger of being in the ocean in some way or another. He spent a few hours cleaning his Coupris Kineema--it had clearly been here for some time, and the poor thing could use some maintenance--before setting off to the detective's apartment. He pulls up near the entrance and gets out of the car. The motor sound dies down to a purr before shutting off entirely.

A spring breeze ruffles the collar of his jacket. He's reminded of the day that he entered Martinaise and the Whirling-in-Rags to search for the detective--except instead, there's no murder or mystery to be solved. Just two RCM officers against this strange supra-natural world--one of which still doesn't remember anything.

He lets out a brief sigh, checking his watch and crossing his arms. The detective should show up soon, if he's bothered to be on time.]