Re: In Time RP (Polo!)

[Polo trapped in an inkpot]

For a long time Griffin entertained himself by toying with Toby, who at this point was just running from him - moving his king back and forth across the board as Griffin patiently attempted to trap it, closing in his pieces more and more each time. When it became truly evident who the winner would be, Toby seemed to decide that he'd had enough of losing, and grumbled, "I should have known. A genius who could fix a broken kettle, iPod and TV remote would have no problem beating me in a game of Chess."
"Oh, come on. You put up a good fight." Griffin teased, flashing an encouraging grin, even though he had basically admitted that the match was over. They both knew how it would end.
"You know what? You win." Toby admitted, and Griffin just beamed at the sight of the man's glare, "But next time we're boxing."
"If it's on the Wii, then sure. I'll beat you at that, too." He retorted cockily, flashing a devious grin. Toby ignored him, and grabbed his coffee mug off the floor.
"I'm getting more coffee. I'll refill it for you, but that's all I owe you."
"Thanks Superman."
Returning Toby's wink, Griffin stood up and stretched, groaning in relief as he felt his vertebrae shift and click back into place. One his limbs were appropriately stretched, he trotted after Toby to collect his coffee.

For the next hour or so, the two men sat around exchanging idle conversation and drinking coffee while they monitored the dogs, and when 5:30 AM came about, Griffin set down his empty mug and stood up to leave.
"I'll have to go now if I'm going to make the morning train." He explained, smiling apologetically, "If I'm late for work again my boss will yell at me..." Frowning sulkily, Griffin shrugged, and started patting his pockets, making sure that he had all of his belongings.
"I've got the weekend off," He went on, "So I probably won't be back in Dayton until Monday... But if you need me," He shot Toby a friendly wink, "You've got my number, Superman. Just give me a ring, yeah?"
Griffin gave his friend's hair an affectionate ruffle, then said goodbye and turned to leave, throwing a backward wave over his shoulder.
Strange as it seemed, he would miss that surly barman. Still, he was glad that he was getting some time off from the case. He needed to think about it, and decide once and for all what he was going to do.
Between what was right and what was lawful, Griffin just wasn't quite sure which way he ought to turn...

[Dreambug]

A few pointless conversations and pints of coffee later, the sun began to hint on the horizon, turning the sky from pitch black to a smoky grey that matched Toby's dull eyes. Another day, and all he'd had was an hour of sleep to keep him going.
"I'll have to go now if I'm going to make the morning train." Myles said eventually, pushing his coffee mug aside. "If I'm late for work again my boss will yell at me..."
Toby nodded. It was fair enough. Myles had spent all night with him, anyway. In fact, they'd spent a long time together. It was slightly unnerving for Toby, but he guessed it couldn't be helped. Myles seemed be magnet for trouble, anyway.
Then, it seemed Myles words finally hit him, and he frowned. The scrawny man hadn't said anything about having a job...
""I've got the weekend off, so I probably won't be back in Dayton until Monday... But if you need me," Myles winked at him. "You've got my number, Superman. Just give me a ring, yeah?"
Toby nodded, but he was hardly listening. 'Back in Dayton' meant that Myles felt he belonged there. That could mean nothing, but he said he was visiting family.
And yet he'd barely left Toby's side since he'd got there.
Besides... The way he put it, it seemed he worked at Dayton. But if that was the case, what did he work as? It certainly couldn't be anything physical, since he didn't have the build for it. It'd probably include something that needed intelligence. Computers, maybe? But what was it, and why hadn't he brought it up?
When he'd finally snapped out of his thoughts, Myles was already on his way towards the door. "Hold on."
Maybe he didn't have anything to hide. Maybe he just hadn't mentioned it because it hadn't been brought up.
"I'm not trusting you on your own again." Toby teased, grabbing his coat. "Come on, I'll come with you." He yanked on his coat, zipped it half way up his chest, then cast the dogs one last glance. They'd be fine for the next hour or so. Dan could look after them, if he wasn't dead to the world, anyway.
Toby closed the door behind him, then turned to Myles with a curious glint in his eye. Despite everything the man had told him about himself, he still felt like a stranger when there were so many pieces of information missing.
"So..." He began in a conversational manner, shoving his cold hands in his pockets. "What you do for a living?" Who cares if he was being a bit forward? It was just a question. "You don't seem to be the sort of guy that mines coal or manages Time machines or anything, like most of the people here."

[Polo trapped in an inkpot]

Just as Griffin was about to step outside, Toby's voice called him back, and he glanced over his shoulder to see the man hurriedly pulling on a coat. "I'm not trusting you on your own again." He teased, and Griffin smiled weakly in response. "Come on, I'll come with you."
Nodding gratefully, he hovered in the doorway and waited until Toby had finished zipping up his coat and appeared at his side. They walked out together, and when Toby turned to close the door, Griffin let his eyes dart over the sleeping dogs one more time. He was glad that they seemed okay. That knowledge was well worth the sleepless night, in his opinion. He would just catch a power nap at work later, when his boss wasn't looking.
Smiling at the thought, Griffin blew into his hands, then rubbed them briskly together, trying to warm himself against the chill of the early morning. Toby fell into step beside him, and together the two men walked out into the misty dawn. Toby looked as weary as Griffin felt, but when he spoke, his voice gave no indication of it.
"So..." He began conversationally, "What you do for a living?" Griffin felt his shoulders stiffen, "You don't seem to be the sort of guy that mines coal or manages Time machines or anything, like most of the people here."
"I resent that!" He objected, jabbing a finger accusingly at Toby, "Just 'cause I'm not Mister Muscle-bound Superman doesn't mean I'm not capable of physical labour." He pushed his glasses up his nose, then yawned, buying himself a few moments to formulate an appropriate response to Griffin's question.
"I'm doing some research here for my company." He explained, scratching his head animatedly as he went on, "That's what I do, most of the time. Research stuff, write reports, take naps." He shrugged, "It's a boring job, really, but it pays the bills... And I'm good at it, so I can't complain. Nothing as snazzy as bartending, though."
Shooting Toby a wink, Griffin gave his friend a playful shove on the shoulder, then jogged forward a few steps to get in front, folding his hands behind his head and beaming up at the sky.
"It's a lovely morning, isn't it?" He commented brightly, transitioning smoothly into a new topic of conversation, "I love the mornings. The air seems cleaner somehow, don't you think?"

[Dreambug]

Toby blinked innocently at the irritation on Myles' actions. ""Just 'cause I'm not Mister Muscle-bound Superman doesn't mean I'm not capable of physical labour."
"Alright, alright." He hushed the man, raising his hands in defeat. "Okay, but maybe not hard physical labour. The stuff people get paid for." He teased, then pulled up the hood of his coat to hide his face from the cold.
Myles either didn't hear him or had decided to ignore him, because he went on to answer Tobias' question. "I'm doing some research here for my company." He went on easily. ""That's what I do, most of the time. Research stuff, write reports, take naps. It's a boring job, really, but it pays the bills... And I'm good at it, so I can't complain. Nothing as snazzy as bartending, though."
"Bartending isn't snazzy." Toby replied, but he was pleased with the answer. It made sense, really, that he had such a job in Dayton. But it still didn't explain what Myles did when he wasn't around Toby. For someone who was supposed to be visiting family, he didn't spend much time with them, did he?
When Myles started to comment on the weather, Toby lost interest altogether. There were better things to discuss in the world. Women talked about the weather.
"The air's as grey and shitty as it usually is." He replied grumpily, but he didn't push on the previous subject. He'd get it out of Myles easier if he brought it up lightly, and not make him feel uncomfortable.
"Listen," he murmured. "I'm really grateful for you staying over." He hunched his shoulders slightly, watching his warm breath turn into steam before his eyes. "I know I've said this already, but I mean it. I'm sure you will have had much better things to do than stay in that room and entertain yourself all night."
He wrapped his hand around the tiny iPod in his pocket, the one Myles had given to him a few hours ago. His heart warmed at the thought, as little as it might have been, that had gone into it, and the fact that he wasn't expected to pay Myles back for it, or return it at any point. He had little use for it, but he appreciated it all the same.

[Polo trapped in an inkpot]

Griffin stuck out his tongue at Toby's grumpy reply, and drew in a deep breath of the clear morning air, letting it fill his lungs with cool freshness. It certainly felt good after being cramped in a stuffy bar all night. Smiling to himself, he walked on down the road, kicking boredly at a loose stone and making a game of trying to keep it in front of his feet. When he heard Toby speak, however, the serious tone in his friend's voice caused his attention to falter, and he lost the stone as he glanced over at Toby, listening, just as he had been told to.
"I'm really grateful for you staying over." The other man murmured, shoulders hunched awkwardly, "I know I've said this already, but I mean it. I'm sure you will have had much better things to do than stay in that room and entertain yourself all night."
Griffin blinked curiously at his friend, and his lips slowly formed a smile at the sight of the gratitude in Toby's harsh profile. It seemed that, against all odds, he was finally starting to get through to the surly barman. That was a good thing, because after all, if he was going to keep Toby free of blame, then chances were he would need the man to trust him at some point...
But not yet. He would not let the truth come out; at least not until he absolutely had to.

Shaking aside his thoughts, Griffin shrugged, and said, "Don't mention it - I wanted to stay. Besides, it was fun." He shot Toby a wink, "I haven't had anybody to play chess with in years, and my computer is a lousy partner."
He walked on a few more steps, then stopped, frowning vaguely at something that had caught his eye. They had reached a newly-built parking lot, and though the paving had clearly not been laid more than a few weeks ago, the familiar wrought iron fence surrounding the area was clearly many years older. It was painted black, rusted through in places, and the bars were twisted in an eerie, antique fashion - topped by elegant, decorative spikes. The fence looked more suitable to a graveyard than a parking lot... And for good reason.
"Can we stop here for a minute?" Griffin asked lightheartedly, casting a brief glance at his watch, "We have some time to spare, and I won't be long. Just a minute, really."

Without waiting for an answer, he jogged up to the fence, then grabbed the top of it and swung his legs over in a skillful vault. The action seemed unfitting of his slight frame, and even more so of his nerdy nature, but despite how little he looked the part, Griffin still bore the traits of his ghetto upbringing. Gates and fences would never be a problem, at least not ones like this.
Landing with cat-like precision on the other side, Griffin dusted his hands on his pants, and strode right into the middle of the empty parking lot. Once there, he stopped, turning his head slowly from side to side as he looked around, trying to get his bearings. No matter where he looked, all he saw was pale, unblemished concrete. It was impossible to tell where his mother's grave had been.
Feeling his heart grow heavy with grief that was never far from the surface, Griffin sighed, and rubbed the suddenly biting chill from his arms. Then, hugging himself against the cold, he let his feet guide him in what he hoped was the right direction, trusting the habitual trudging to find the same path he had traveled a million times before.
Guided by his instinct, he strode briskly to a place somewhere near the corner of the lot, and stopped automatically, considering the ground beneath his feet.
Looks like I can't really visit any more, Mom. He frowned, kicking out at a loose stone on the concrete. Griffin's mother had meant the world to him. Not only was she his mother, but she had been his best friend, too. If there was ever a perfect example of a 'Mommy's Boy', then Griffin was it. He had loved her with all his heart, and even now - with her grave-site demolished - the grief of losing her still ached like a gaping wound in his chest.
"I'll always love you." He whispered under his breath, frowning as he nudged the stone around with the toe of his shoe. Even if I can't see your grave any more, I'll never forget. You know I won't... You raised me far too well for that.
Sighing, Griffin checked his watch again, and noted with grim acceptance that five minutes had already passed. It was time to go.

Fixing his usual bright smile on his face, Griffin turned to look back at Toby. "New parkling lot. Crazy, right?" He commented meekly, jogging over to the fence and vaulting easily to the other side.
"It's so smooth it's like you could ice-skate on it. How long do you think it'll take for it to get as crummy as the rest?"
Quite content to make idle conversation, Griffin shoved his hands into his pockets, and walked on down the street, looking rather more cheerful than he felt.

[Dreambug]

"Don't mention it - I wanted to stay. Besides, it was fun." He shot winked meaningfully. "I haven't had anybody to play chess with in years, and my computer is a lousy partner."
Toby looked away, trying his best to hide his blushing cheeks beneath his hood. He should have been hating himself right then. The more he made Myles comfortable in his company the more dangerous the situation got. But he couldn't help it. Much as he hated himself for it, he really did enjoy having a friend in his company.
A friend.
A real friend.
He swallowed nervously. So he had a real friend, now. But there would be consequences. He would have to be prepared to leave at any moment without any indication. But at the same time, he would protect his friends with his life. If anyone else died because of him... He wasn't sure if he could live with any more grief. He needed to be tactical, and make sure Myles didn't find out who he really was, or why the Timekeepers were after him. He couldn't drop that burden on another's shoulders.
Hissing in a breath, he clenched a hand around the tiny iPod in his pocket. Surely Myles had felt the same? Otherwise he wouldn't do all this. In fact, Toby could remember Myles addressing him as 'friend'.

He shuffled awkwardly to a stop when Myles wandered off to the new car park across the road. He had to admit, he was shocked that such a scrawny man could jump so high with such ease. His friend was a strange one.
Crossing the road also, Toby wandered over and leant against the wire mesh fencing, peering in through the rings to see what Myles as doing.
Nothing. He wasn't doing anything.
Not running around stupidly, making up a game in his head, or finding something broken to fix. He was just walking around, with an oddly solemn expression on his face.
What's going on with you, Myles? Tobias wanted to ask. What are you thinking about?
When the man didn't return, Toby turned his back to the car park and watched the street with slightly narrowed eyes. A man on a bike rolled along, a little girl playing with an empty drink's can. Then he heard footsteps behind him, and turned back to see Myles making his way over the fence again. He looked oddly cheerful.
Perhaps a bit too cheerful.
It was something Toby could relate to. He ended up like that when he was having bad days with little sleep, but it generally came with grief.
So... Who did you lose?
He didn't ask, though. It wasn't his business just yet. He knew enough about this half-stranger for the time being. So he just wandered aimlessly forward, hands in his pockets, and listened to Myles babble away about the tarmac.
"Hm." Toby grunted half-heartedly. "It's very... Um, pretty tarmac."
The words were so out of place coming from his lips it was almost comical, but his face remained as serious as ever.
"So..." He tried, attempting to change the subject again. "What's this research you need to do? Can I help you out with anything?" He shrugged. "I've lived here all my life, and I travel around a bit, so I can give it a go."

[Polo trapped in an inkpot]

"Hm." Toby replied disinterestedly, "It's very... Um, pretty tarmac."
Hearing these strange words come from his surly friend's lips, Griffin uttered a bark of laughter, shaking his head in amusement. Toby sounded like he was trying to pacify an overly-enthusiastic child. And in a weird way, Griffin appreciated the gesture. It was better than a scowl or an insult, in any case.
"So..." He went on, winning back his dignity with his serious tone, "What's this research you need to do? Can I help you out with anything? I've lived here all my life, and I travel around a bit, so I can give it a go."
"Aw, you're sweet." Griffin teased, shooting his friend a grin, "But I think I've got all the information I need now." His eyes twinkled as he considered Toby, tickled by his private joke.
Oh, Byron, if only you could see the irony...

They walked on a while longer, and soon enough, the train station came into sight. Griffin stopped, considering Toby with his head cocked slightly to one side. It was strange to think that a few short weeks ago, it had been his goal to find and apprehend this man, possibly throwing him into jail for the rest of his life - and a short one at that, after the Timekeepers confiscated his stolen Time. Now, however, things were vastly different. When he looked at Toby, he was no longer wondering how he was going to find handcuffs made of Kryptonite (strong enough to hold Superman), but rather how he was going to lead the other Timekeepers away from the trail that he had picked up with such ease. How was he going to convince them that Toby was not their man, if they did happen to stumble upon the same conclusion that he had?
When that time came, he had to be prepared. 'Friends' were an abstract concept to him, with feelings seldom more than skin deep, but friendship aside, Toby was a good man, and despite everything, Griffin had a strong set of morals. It was how his mother had raised him... Regardless of whether Toby was guilty or innocent, he was not a bad person, and Griffin refused to see him punished for misunderstood crimes.

Griffin looked up when he heard the whistle of a train pulling into the station and, shaken from his thoughts, he turned back to meet the other man's gaze.
"Hey, Toby, tell me something..." He folded his arms, "We're friends, right?" Without waiting for an answer, Griffin glanced distractedly at the train, and asked, "Do you trust me?"
Turning back, he looked at Toby, eyebrows raised questioningly. It was seldom that Griffin looked so intense, and despite its innocent nature, it was clear that the question was an important one.
If he was going to save Byron's life, he had to earn his trust first. Unfortunately, being the rather isolated individual that he was, Griffin was not entirely sure how to go about doing that...

[Dreambug]

"I'm not 'sweet'." Tobias grunted, displeased with this adjective. He may have been many things, but he would not consider himself as 'sweet'. That didn't belong in the ghetto. "I'm..." He paused for thought, then added with a firm nod, "Manly."

They kept walking for a while, making small comments about how wet it was when it rained, and how dry the land is when it doesn't. By the time they'd reached the train station, the sun had risen from beneath the hills, engrossing them in a warm, golden glow. The sky still tinted pink and purple, but the air was not as bitter as it had been when they'd first set off.
He felt Myles' eyes on him but pretended not to notice, watching the sky light up with more spirit than it deserved to hold. A place so rotten, and held so many horrible memories, wasn't supposed to look so pleasant. He puffed out a warm breath, watching it disappear into the air before his eyes.
The whistling and harsh screeches of the oncoming train caught both their attention, and Toby pushed himself off the wall he was leaning against to wave off his new friend.
Friend... It sounded wrong. He wasn't sure how long he'd be able to get used to it.
"Hey, Toby, tell me something... We're friends, right?" Toby glanced at Myles, his eyes flashing in a panic. Had Myles read his mind?! How? How had he found out?
"Do you trust me?"
Realising how ridiculous he was being, he cleared his throat and trained his eyes on Myles', considering him for a moment. He wasn't sure why, but with the look he was receiving he wondered whether there was more to this question than he first thought. Myles looked different to his usual child-like self. In fact, he was more like a completely different person. Toby wasn't sure whether he could trust... That.
"That depends." He answered carefully, watching the train approach out of the corner of his eye.
He couldn't afford to trust anyone. Danger could be lurking behind any innocent stranger, any civilian he went past. As a wanted criminal, he couldn't afford to 'trust'. But he'd already twisted the rules for this man, whom he'd only known a couple of days. What was the point quitting now?
"I wouldn't trust you in Chess. Or any trivial game, really." He murmured with a faint smile. Then, when the train's doors slid open it sank from his face. "But I'd trust you not to Time me Out when I'm sleeping."
He stood up straight, narrowing his eyes seriously, and slipped his hands in his pockets. Whether he trusted Myles with his life yet, he wasn't sure. The man had attempted to save it once, and it nearly worked, too. And he'd endangered himself for Toby's sake. But he still didn't want to say something for definite when he wasn't sure he meant it.
"That's my answer." He said finally, raising his chin confidently.

[Polo trapped in an inkpot]

Griffin raised an eyebrow when he saw the nervousness in Toby's face, and folded his arms as he waited patiently for a response. Of course, Toby would be right not to trust him - especially given that he was a highly wanted man - but despite the evidence to the contrary, Griffin had nothing but good intentions. And to put those to use, he needed Toby's trust, whether he deserved it or not.
"That depends..." The man muttered at last, thoughtfully. "I wouldn't trust you in Chess. Or any trivial game, really."
"Oi!" Griffin squeaked indignantly, stabbing an accusing finger toward Toby's chest. "I resent that! I'd never cheat, you ass."
But despite his apparent annoyance, Griffin was smiling, but when Toby's smile faded, so did his. He still handn't got an answer, but he had a feeling it was coming...
"But I'd trust you not to Time me Out when I'm sleeping." Toby concluded, "That's my answer."
"I'll take it." Griffin answered, flashing a smile and squeezing Toby's shoulder reassuringly. "And for the record, you can trust me." He laid a hand over his heart, "I give you my word. Remember that." He winked, then have his friend's shoulder a brief slap, and turned to leave.
"See you around." He said, raising a hand in farewell as he boarded the train, "Look after yourself!" The train began pulling away, and Griffin darted to a window, then leaned out to keep Toby in sight as he continued, "Don't go flying into any buildings now, and look out for super-villains..."
Soon enough, his voice was lost in the clatter of the train, and once he lost sight of Toby, Griffin pulled his head back in through the window, straightened his glasses, and flattened his hair in a dignified fashion. Then, oblivious to the stares of the other passengers, he found himself a seat, and began playing a game on his Smartphone.

[Dreambug]

Toby's expression changed when he felt a hand on his shoulder, trying not to flinch away from the pinch he received. It was harmless contact, but it reminded him so much of how he was handled all those years ago, the night his brother was shot, that it made him uncomfortable to ever me touched there. ((Jesus, mate, it's only your shoulder. -_-))
"And for the record, you can trust me." To Toby's surprise, Myles put a hand over his own heart in a solemn promise. "I give you my word. Remember that."
Toby frowned blankly at him. Why did he have a feeling Myles was going to do something that was going to make him doubt this moment?
He raised a hand hesitantly in the faintest of waves, his eyes stalking Myles' elegant figure as it glided onto the train, and disappear behind the huge, metal doors. Just as he was about to turn and leave, Toby heard a voice coming from one of the windows.
"Don't go flying into any buildings now, and look out for super-villains..."
Lips curving up in a smirk, Tobias lifted a finger in a rude gesture, then shook his head in amusement. There was no end to his strange ways, was there?
Stuffing his hands in his pockets, he strolled out of the train station and out onto a dusty track. Work didn't start for another six hours, but he felt it was his duty to look after Angel and her puppy, even if Dan could look after them himself. Angel would be stressed in the new environment and Toby was the only one she completely trusted with her baby, and he didn't want to risk her biting anyone.
So he kept walking, glancing up towards the glowing sky every now and then, his mind reflecting on Myles' words. What had all that been about? Why did Myles want his trust? Yes, Toby had just decided Myles was his friend, however close or far apart as he wished. But a friend nonetheless. Still... Why did he need the reassurance that Toby trusted him?
Tobias stuffed his hands further into his pockets. He'd not know until Monday at least, so there was no point worrying about it.

When he arrived to the bar the puppy was already up and wandering around, it's dished face digging into every scent it could possibly find. It wasn't blind like it's mother - although it's sore eye was still less open than the other - but both mother and puppy were evidently happier than before. The hairless patches where the maggots had been feasting would take weeks to heal and for the hair to grow back, but other than that, they were happy and healthy dogs.
Dan, of course, was all for playing with the puppy at every chance he got. Now that it had more life in it's dark brown eyes and showed a lot more spirit, he would happily toss it a ball or something to chew on whilst Toby was at work.
Angel was having trouble adjusting to being in a single room, but Toby took her outside a few times a day to get her used to urinating outside. She still bumped into things all the time, but she was beginning to pick up when Toby said her name that there was something there, before she hurt herself.

Throughout that weekend Myles' words haunted Toby more than he would have wanted. But not once did he pick up his phone and call his new friend. If Myles had something to tell him, he would either call him or tell him face-to-face. There was no point ripping his hair out over it. Still, he couldn't help but wonder what would await him when he met up with Myles that Monday...

[Polo trapped in an inkpot]

Griffin's Friday passed relatively uneventfully, and the rest of the weekend was no different. He spent most of his time hunched in front of his laptop, trying to program a simple chess application for a cellphone that he was working on. He was so caught up in it that he barely left the screen, even to sleep. He just sat there, his hair growing steadily messier, with a mug of coffee in one hand, and the other on his keyboard. The lines of code on the screen danced before his eyes, but Griffin composed them like a fine symphony, and by Sunday afternoon, he had the whole game flawlessly coded.
He sent it to his cellphone and tested it once, grinning in delight as he faced off against a computerized intelligence that he had generated himself. It never occurred to him just how sad and lonely the concept may have seemed; he enjoyed it anyway.
Once his knight had galloped across the board to capture the little animated figure of his opponent's king, Griffin closed the game in satisfaction, then saved the application into a compressed folder, and attached it to a text message which he sent to Toby:

Chess app that I designed. (Yeah, my weekends are that wild)
See attached text document for installation instructions.
Figured you'd want to up your game before we face
off again. I added an extra-easy 'Superman' difficulty level
just for you.
PS. There's a multiplayer function, too. *hint hint*

Once the large file had finished sending, Griffin turned off his cellphone, leaving it to charge, and collapsed onto his bed, still in his clothes. He was asleep before he had even pulled the covers over his feet.
Exhausted from his 'hard work' and sleepless nights, Griffin remained dead to the world until early Monday morning, when he woke with a deep indent in the side of his face from his glasses - which had eventually ended up under his pillow somehow - and one missing shoe, which he later located bundled up in the blankets like an Egyptian mummy.
Yawning widely, he pulled himself out of bed and stumbled like a zombie to the shower. He nearly tripped several times whilst crawling out of his clothes, but once the jet of hot water hit him, Griffin soon began to wake up. By the time he was clean, he was feeling considerably better, and he even began humming to himself as he went about his morning ritual of eating, dressing and brushing his teeth.

When he was ready to leave, Griffin grabbed his cellphone, and headed off to work. Upon arrival, a startling sight met his eyes. Stepping into the office building, Griffin froze as he saw people rushing back and forth, shouting excitedly to one another and urgently flapping important papers around. "What's going on?" He asked of nobody in particular, looking around with wide-eyed disbelief, "Did something happen over the weekend?"
"It's the Willoughby case!" A passing intern said excitedly, grinning as he stopped to answer Griffin, "Paisley's got a lead!"
John Paisley, Griffin's 'rival' of sorts, was a well known name among the Timekeepers - a skilled detective known for thorough investigations and a knack for sniffing out criminals. Griffin's heart sank. Although he was always a few steps ahead, he had known that it was only a matter of time before Paisley also picked up on Toby's trail. He had, however, hoped that it would take a little longer...
What am I going to do?
"Griffin!"
Hearing his name, he jumped, glancing up skittishly to see his boss standing in front of him. "Did you hear?" The man asked smugly, "Paisley beat you to it, kid. We've found a suspect - name of Tobias Cardwell, he's a bartender in Dayton - we're bringing him in for questioning today. The crew are just pulling together some evidence first." The Chief gestured briefly to hordes of Timekeepers rushing around like worker bees, and Griffin smiled weakly in response. His boss went on, talking animatedly about how excited he was to finally get to the bottom of the case, but Griffin was no longer listening. He had gone pale from shock, and all he could think about was poor Toby being dragged off in handcuffs.
I can't let that happen...
"Everett... Hey, Everett! Quite spacing out on me."
"What?" Griffin blinked, noticing that his boss was waving a hand in front of his face, "Oh, sorry..."
"Are you okay, kid?" The chief's eyes narrowed, "You look a little pale..."
"Actually, I-" Griffin faked a cough, "I do feel a little under the weather..."
The chief considered him a moment, then - obviously in a good mood - offered a kindly smile, and said, "Very well, Griffin, have the day off. We've got it covered here anyway. In the mean time, see what you can dig up about this Tobias fellow, will you?"
"Will do." Griffin smiled gratefully, "Thanks, sir."

With that, he turned to leave. The moment he was outside, Griffin burst into a sprint. He ran straight to his car - a sporty '63 Mazda - and leaped into the front seat, starting up the engine in an instant. He usually didn't like taking his car into Dayton, for obvious reasons, but desperate times called for desperate measures.
As he swung the vehicle onto the road, Griffin dialed Toby's number, and lifted the phone to his ear. His heart was still racing from panic, and when he heard the man's voice at the other end of the line, he breathed a sigh of relief.
"Toby, It's G- uh, Myles." He checked himself quickly, pulling a face at his near slip-up. He needed to calm down...
"Listen, meet me at that hideout of yours in thirty minutes. I can't explain now - just do it, okay? Trust me." He felt his jaw clench, "Be there."
With that, he hung up the phone, and stamped on the accelerator. With a vicious squeal of rubber, the Mazda leaped forward, engine revving with the power of a thousand horses as it hurtled down the road at a breakneck speed, rapidly passing from the smooth uptown streets to the rutty, pot-holed roads of Dayton.
He still didn't know what he was going to do, but he would figure that out on the way. All he knew was that he needed to warn Toby before it was too late...
I won't let them take you, my friend. I promise you that.

[Dreambug]

Tobias spent each day of the weekend wishing away the hours of serving drinks in the pub or looking after Angel and her puppy. He decided not to name it anything, since that would mean he would be getting attached, and that would be dangerous. Still, he couldn't help but smile when he sat and watched it bounce around it's mother, squeaking and squealing excitably for her to play with it, it's tiny tail naught but a dark blur in an elated wag. Toby never played with them both, but he enjoyed sitting on the floor and letting them interact with him and each other. Honestly, in warmed him watching how clever a mother was, how even when she lost her sight she still knew where her baby was and when it wanted to play with her.
He'd been working at the bar for just under twelve hours a day for most of the weekend, and by Monday, Dan had finally decided he needed a break. So, despite his insistence to stay in the bar, Toby was eventually forced to obey.

Strange as it might have been, Toby did have a habit of climbing small buildings. Amusingly, he had nothing to do with Myles referring to him as a superhero (which still peeved him off, but he didn't see the point in getting annoyed about it because his friend would want to know why). So early on Monday morning, he found himself sat on the top of the block f flatts he lived in, his legs dangling off the side, hunched over his phone and trying to battle the extra-easy level of the Chess app Myles had sent him. His face was frowning in deep concentration as the tiny, animated King tapped around the Chess board, and the words 'Checkmate' covered the tiny screen.
He cursed under his breath. Extra easy and he was still unable to win. Myles had probably rigged it, knowing him.

Just then a sharp ringing came from his old brick phone, causing him to jump. Only two people contacted him from his phone, and Dan was clever enough not to bother calling him directly. Frowning, he pressed the 'green' button and brought it to his ear.
“Myles-”
“Toby, It's G- uh, Myles. Listen, meet me at that hideout of yours in thirty minutes. I can't explain now - just do it, okay? Trust me.”
Tobias frowned at the grey landscape in front of him. Myles' words before they'd parted on Friday morning echoed in his mind. 'Do you trust me?'
Besides, the sudden uneasiness in his friend's voice worried him. That wasn't Myles' usual tone. He sounded... Troubled. No, more than that. Panicked. Really panicked.
“Myles, tell me wh-”
“Be there.” Then the line went dead.
Tobias hesitated, before putting his phone back in his pocket. Something was wrong, definitely. But what? And why was it Myles that sounded so worried? His friend never lifted a finger unless he was bored.
Then again, Toby had to remember he'd only known Myles a few days. There was no point getting ahead of himself.
Swallowing nervously, he pulled himself to his feet. He had to be prepared. Whatever it was, he needed to be ready.

He arrived early to the hideout, and set out beating up some punchbags to try and ease the tension building up in his shoulders. The underground was like an oven that day, so he soon had to remove his shirt and replace it with a thin vest to keep from over-heating.
The elevator door opened, and Myles walked in. They met eyes, and Toby's expression changed. There was definitely something wrong.
“Myles, what is it?” He demanded, dropping the boxing gloves on the floor. He approached his friend, eyes hard, and stopped when he was only a foot away from the man. “Come on, tell me. Why did you want to meet me here? What's going on?”

[Polo trapped in an inkpot]

The elevator carried Griffin down lower and lower into the ground, and as the muggy heat grew palpable around him, he couldn't shake the feeling that it was lowering him into an early grave. He had come here to help, but what if Toby didn't understand that? Worse still, what if Griffin had misjudged him after all, and he truly was the evil, murdering man that his records insisted he was?
Griffin gulped, wiping his sleeve over his forehead to mop up the beads of sweat forming there. He had his laptop bag slung over his shoulder, and he could feel his shirt growing damp where the strap pressed down. The weight of it was nearly enough to cut him.
When the elevator doors opened, his heart skipped a beat - then fluttered into his throat as Toby stalked towards him like a caged tiger.
Calm down. Don't panic. He's your friend...
Ha, 'friend'... Funny, really, how fickle a concept it was. Toby was a good man, and he didn't deserve to die. Aside from that, Griffin wouldn't trust him as far as he could throw him. He didn't trust anyone, really, no matter how much he pretended otherwise.
Hearing a loud 'thud', Griffin jumped, startled out of his thoughts by the boxing gloves falling to the floor. Looking up, he found Toby's face threateningly close to his own. He gulped.
“Myles, what is it?” The larger man demanded firmly, “Come on, tell me. Why did you want to meet me here? What's going on?”
Taking a deep breath, Griffin laid a dainty hand on Toby's chest, and pushed him gently backwards, opening the space between them. Then, with space to move, he shrugged his laptop bag off his shoulder, and reached into it, pulling out a thick cardboard folder filled fit to burst with printed pages, newspaper clippings, typed reports of TV news, and just about every sort of evidence imaginable - all regarding Byron Willoughby, and a disturbing number of his aliases.
With a sound like a slamming door, he slapped the folder into Toby's hands. Then he came clean.

"My name," He said tensely, "Is Griffin Everett. I'm the lead detective for the Southern Timekeeping branch, and-" He looked up at Toby, his eyes flashing behind his glasses, "I know everything, Byron."
He felt a shiver run through him as he used Toby's true name for the first time. It felt wrong - like saying 'Voldemort' out loud (which he had never been able to do, since reading the Harry Potter classics).
"But before you punch my lights out," Griffin held up a finger, as if that would be enough to stop Toby from killing him if he wanted to, "I am, first and foremost, your friend. I'm on your side." His eyes held Toby's firmly, "But, unfortunately, I'm not the only one on your case, and the others have caught up to me at last. They're planning to take you in for questioning today, but I-" He broke off suddenly, scratching his head, and blinked in a bemused fashion, "Actually, I have no idea what I'm going to do about it yet..." He bit his lip thoughtfully, "I'm sure I'll think of something, though... Maybe..."

[Dreambug]

Toby's eyes narrowed when he felt a hand on his chest, gently urging him back a step. People rarely touched him, but when his chest was already heaving with anxiety and the lack of oxygen underground, it wasn't exactly welcome.
Something was wrong, and he wanted to know what. Immediately.
With the space available to move, Myles opened up a bag Toby had just noticed he was carrying, and pulled out a file bulging with scraps of paper, some falling out at the sides. A small title was printed on the cover of the file, along with a face suspiciously like his own, and it was labelled, 'Byron Willoughby'.
His face went white. When Myles handed the file over, he was in so much shock he nearly dropped it. The weight didn't help, either.
Tobias didn't need to open the file to know what was in it. His eyes dragged up to Myles, his brow creasing in an unreadable manner.
Who are you, really?
But he already knew the answer. Anyone who had a file like that had to be pretty damned high up in the law to have so much based on one person. Myles didn't have much of a life, but not even he would do that for fun.
"My name is Griffin Everett." Myles finally admitted, his eyes flashing. "I'm the lead detective for the Southern Timekeeping branch, and-... I know everything, Byron."
Tobias' eyes widened slightly at the use of this name. The last time anyone called him that was back when he was fourteen years old, right before he changed his identity. It brought back so many unwelcome memories... And this man, this Timekeeper had just brought it all back.
""But before you punch my lights out," Toby glared at the finger pointed at him as if he wished for it to burst into flames. "I am, first and foremost, your friend. I'm on your side. But, unfortunately, I'm not the only one on your case, and the others have caught up to me at last. They're planning to take you in for questioning today, but I-..." He paused, but Tobias was no longer listening. So... This was it. He'd made the mistake of befriending a Timekeeper, and he was going to pay for it with his life.
And here he was, shut away underground whilst a team of Timekeepers prepared for his arrest. What would they do once they had him? They'd take him to the family of the man he killed and leave them to decide his fate. He'd die. How quick or painfully he wasn't sure.
When Myles – or Griffin – stopped talking, Tobias was looking right at him with an unreadable expression. His shoulders had slumped slightly with the weight of the world falling onto his conscience like a tonne of bricks. He was going down, all because of the man in front of him.
Looking down he turned away, dangerously calm, and walked off to the edge of the room with the file in his shaking hands.
Myles had betrayed him. After all the times he'd saved that idiot's life and he had been deceiving him the entire time. How could he have been so careless? There were reasons why fugitives didn't have friends, and it had nothing to do with the friend's' safety.
Toby's steps shuffled to a half half way across the room, and he opened the file with trembling fingers. The first page was a profile of him, his date of birth and his charges. There were a few ut most were petty: trespassing, theft, abuse of property, grievous bodily harm... But the main one in a special, bold font, read 'MURDER'.
With a furious roar, Toby grabbed the file by the spine and threw it with alarming strength back in Griff's direction. Paper documents went flying everywhere, but the file skidded past Griff and smacked against the stone wall and dropped to the floor.
“Damn you!” He screamed, his eyes raging as a muscle twitched by his temple. His fists were clenched so hard it tensed the muscles all down his bare arms, causing the veins to bulge. “You claimed you were a friend, yet the whole time you were playing me?!” He turned away again, raking his fingers through his hair and yanking violently at it.
He couldn't die. He couldn't... Not before he'd fulfilled his purpose.
He seemed to have tired out slightly with his sudden outburst, and just stood a few meters away from Griff, his chest rising and falling with each heavy breath. His eyes turned bloodshot for a moment and he turned away, leaning against the table in the corner of the room, his back muscles rippling with the tension of his trembling muscles. He bowed his head, closed his eyes.
“I should have realised it was too easy.” He murmured, his shoulders slumping in defeat. Stupid. Stupid! “You don't just-... Get a friend like that. There's always a catch.”
And now I'm going to die.
He clenched his fists around the table. Took a deep breath.
Calm down.
For a moment he just stood there, still as a statue, considering his options. If he was going to get arrested, he needed to seem as innocent as possible. They had enough evidence to arrest him, but if he could get his story straight for when they questioned him, there was a chance he could wriggle out of it. But was that worth the risk of his life?
Finally, after what felt like hours, he lifted his head and his eyes flashed open. He glared at the back wall, his eyes hard with determination, and he stormed over to a corner of the room. Opening a safe that was hidden behind a smashed mirror, he pulled out a small time-holding machine, and yanked off his arm warmers.
Pressing it to his wrist, he watched the centuries tick away before his eyes, brow creased in concentration. At a first glance it might have looked like he was trying to Time himself Out, but he removed the machine before his final year could disappear.
He then locked the machine back in the safe and removed his well-kept, expensive watch. He brought it to his lips, scrunching his eyes with the emotion it brought him, then put that away in the safe also. He locked it.
When he finally turned back to Griff, he could have been mistaken for any normal person, because there was no longer evidence on him that he was anything other.
His eyes set on Griff, and a look of despair twinkled in his eyes. Desperately did he want a friend as good as Myles had been, but Myles was gone.
He strolled over, his demeanour now as calm as it could possibly be. But when he reached Griff he kept walking, his broad shoulders being enough to back the man back against the cold, brick wall. His fist clenched around the Timekeeper's collar, and he yanked it violently towards him, causing it to strain against Griff's shoulders. “What have you told them?” He growled, his lips pressing against Griff's ear. “Tell me, Myles, how much do your Timekeepers know about me?” His voice wavered slightly as he remembered Dan and Angel, and all the people he'd ever talked to. If the Timekeepers were really coming down on him, every single person he knew could be in danger.
Everyone he knew.
His eyes stretched wide when a thought occurred to him, and he released Griff's coat and backed away from him, winded, as if struck by a physical blow.
“Eric...” He gasped. “Th-... That was you, wasn't it? You...” His eyes narrowed. “You had him arrested.”
That stupid drunkard... He's going to die alone in prison because of me.
I've done it again.
It's all my fault...

[Polo trapped in an inkpot]

Griffin watched suspiciously as Toby - Byron - turned away, walking to the middle of the room, and opening the file. After looking through it for a moment, the man wheeled around, and Griffin jumped when the file came spinning suddenly towards him like a shuriken, followed by a shout of, "Damn you!"
He dived out of the way, staring shakily at the papers scattered over the floor, all depicting a dangerous man. A man that he refused to believe Toby could be. Unfortunately, he was doing a pretty good job of looking the part at that moment... Griffin gulped.
“You claimed you were a friend, yet the whole time you were playing me?!” Byron raged, and Griffin flinched at the volume of his voice.
"I am your friend." He objected softly, his calm voice too quiet to reach through Byron's anger, "If you'd listen-"
But then Byron turned away, and Griffin swallowed guiltily at the sight of the tension in his friend's muscles. If only he could make him understand, it wouldn't have to be like this... He wasn't the bad guy - why the hell couldn't Byron see that?
Then again, if I was him, I probably would have killed me by now...
He shuddered at the thought, then looked up upon hearing Byron's defeated voice, “I should have realised it was too easy. You don't just-... Get a friend like that. There's always a catch.”
Griffin shrank away, his guilt setting in deeper, and watched silently as Byron crossed the room, and opened a cupboard, taking out a small black device inside. He brought it to his wrist, and Griffin's eyes narrowed in suspicion.
"What are you doing?" He asked sharply, taking a quick step forward, "Toby-"
But then he replaced the Time Credit Machine, and Griffin breathed a sigh of relief to see his friend still standing. For a second there, he had thought that Toby was throwing in the towel...
But his relief was short lived.

The very next moment, Byron approached him, and as the man drew closer, Griffin automatically backed away, but that didn't stop him. Eyes widening nervously, he scrambled backwards away from the criminal's wide frame, until at last a wall struck his back, trapping him like a bird in a cage. His heart skipped a beat, and a gasp of fear left his lips when Byron grabbed his collar. His delicate fingers clawed at the man's hands, but it was like a butterfly trying to break a rock. His efforts were in vain.
“What have you told them?” Byron growled viciously, and Griffin flinched at the unwelcome contact of lips on his ear, “Tell me, 'Myles', how much do your Timekeepers know about me?”
"N-nothing!" Griffin gasped, his quick breath robbing his voice of volume, "Haven't you been listening? I'm trying to tell you, I-"
“Eric...” Byron's quiet murmur was enough to silence Griffin, and he shrank automatically away when his friend took a step back, “Th-... That was you, wasn't it? You... You had him arrested.”
He met the man's horrified gaze, and as guilt started rising up in him again, at last, something snapped.
Eyes narrowing, Griffin stepped forward, suddenly intimidating in his confidence despite his small stature.
"Yes." He answered outright, "Yes, I had that time-stealing bastard arrested, and good riddance."
Jaw clenching, he turned his head to the side, and murmured quietly, "There's something you should know about me, Toby... I've taken shit for my whole damn life, and I'm sick of it." Eyes blazing, he looked back at his friend, holding his gaze with shocking defiance, "I refuse to be pushed around any more. Eric got what was coming to him. And besides..." He pushed his hair back from his face, uttering a sigh as his voice softened once again, "Besides, in there he'll have free food, and a roof over his head. It's not like they're going to kill him for some petty crimes. If anything, he'll be happier there." Griffin waved his hand dismissively, then continued, "But Eric's not the problem right now. The problem is you."
He met his friend's gaze, and held it intently, his wide green eyes shining with the same gentle warmth they'd always held, even with the sudden firmness in his features. As he looked into Byron's eyes, Griffin saw the fear he hid there, and as understanding gripped him, empathy for his friend softened his stance again, robbing him of his momentary defiance.
"Just listen to me." He pleaded softly, his shoulders slumping in submission, "Please, as my friend, let me help you."
He reached out and laid a gentle hand on Byron's tense shoulder, desperate to make him understand.

The silence pressed down heavily for a moment, and when he was sure that the man was listening to him, Griffin began again, "I owe you an explanation," He shook his head, "But not an apology. Since we met, I've been nothing but a friend to you. All that," He gestured toward the papers scattered over the floor, "Is my research. I haven't told the Timekeepers a thing. Hell, if they found out, they'd probably kill me." With a humourless chuckle, he continued, "You saved my life, and I won't easily forget that. I wasn't going to let a good man Time Out because of a simple misunderstanding, which happens too goddamn much in that place. So I got to know you, to befriend you, and now, Toby, I'm here to help you."
He opened his arms, eyes wide with innocence, and said, "Look at me. If I was against you, would I be standing here warning you about what the Timekeepers are planning? If I was loyal to them," He laughed, "Don't you think I'd be over there helping them right now?"
He left the question hanging in silence for a long moment, then he turned away, and walked over to where he had dropped his laptop bag - lost during his frightened little moment pinned against the wall. He hoisted it onto his shoulder, grunting at the weight, and turned back to Byron.
"I asked you before if you trusted me." He said seriously, "And you did, a little bit. All that's changed about me since then is my name." His lips lifted into a smirk, "Now come on, Superman. Are you going to let me get you out of this mess, or aren't you? I'm the best at what I do. If anybody can trick those air-headed colleagues of mine, it's me."

[Dreambug]

When Myles' – or Griff's – demeanour changed at the mention of Eric, Tobias found it difficult to resist the urge to wrap his hands around the man's slender throat and squeeze the air out of him. How dare he play God and judge the drunkard for one slip-up! The ghetto was full of criminals. People did what they had to to survive. Eric was a bastard, yes, but that was all he'd been doing. He drunk because he had things he wanted to forget. Didn't everybody?
“There's something you should know about me, Toby... I've taken shit for my whole damn life, and I'm sick of it.” Griff's defiance was shocking, and Toby felt himself back away a single step at the harsh glare he was receiving. “I refuse to be pushed around any more. Eric got what was coming to him. And besides...” When he sighed, the tension seemed to release from his shoulders, just slightly. Toby narrowed his eyes. “Besides, in there he'll have free food, and a roof over his head. It's not like they're going to kill him for some petty crimes. If anything, he'll be happier there.”
Tobias looked away. He'd always had it in his head that the prisons were brutal and deadly, but he'd never actually been in one. Maybe he just didn't want to go to one.
Then again, if he was arrested he probably wouldn't go to one anyway. He'd be executed one way or another, and those on Death Row didn't go to any old prison.
He shuddered.
When Griff finally brought the topic back to him, Toby felt himself flinch at the harshness of the word 'you'. There was no doubt that he was scared. Never had he actually been in so much danger of being caught since the incident, because he never stayed in one place too long. He usually hanged location yearly, and he'd been in this part of Dayton for a few months. He'd not expected them to pick up on his trail so quickly.
His eyes lifted up as Griff began to speak, Toby's head bowed slightly in defeat. So desperately did he want to believe the man when he said he'd always been a friend. But the evidence in front of him was too much. He couldn't look at that man in the same way with that Timekeeper's coat on, looking so business-like. He wanted a friend. Even a fake one, just... Someone he could talk to who'd care about him. But... He wasn't sure. Griff was a Timekeeper, and yet he was there, in Toby's private lair, confessing everything, even though he knew Toby had murdered someone before.
But he wanted a friend. He needed one... so badly it hurt.
“I haven't told the Timekeepers a thing. Hell, if they found out, they'd probably kill me.” Toby considered this. It could be true... “You saved my life, and I won't easily forget that. I wasn't going to let a good man Time Out because of a simple misunderstanding, which happens too goddamn much in that place. So I got to know you, to befriend you, and now, Toby, I'm here to help you.”
Help.
A Timekeeper was going to help him?
He swallowed, looking extremely anxious now. He was scared, but not only because of the situation he was in, but that he was scared to trust this man. He didn't want to die... But he didn't want Griff to, either.
When he glanced back at Griff, the man had his arms open in an honest gesture, and made a basic point about the Timekeepers, and that he would have been with them if he was truly loyal. But he wasn't. It was stupid, really, betraying his side like that. But if he hadn't, Toby could have already been dead by this point.
Moving out of the way for Griff to pick up his back, Toby began pacing around the room, raking a hand through his hair. If what Griffin said was right, then it still didn't make sense. Why would a Timekeeper risk losing everything he had for a criminal? Did he have some deeper motive, or was he just keeping up the hope that Toby was innocent, and all this was just some stupid misunderstanding? Because it was all true, and Toby couldn't say murdering that man was an accident. But he regretted it deeply, more than this man would understand.
The look on Griff's face then, however, was enough to release some tension on his brow. “Now come on, Superman. Are you going to let me get you out of this mess, or aren't you? I'm the best at what I do. If anybody can trick those air-headed colleagues of mine, it's me.”
He allowed himself to smile slightly. Well, at least the 'Myles' side of this man was still there.
“Alright,” He murmured. “Okay, fine. What do you have in mind?” He leant back on a pole that was attached to the floor and ceiling, folding his arms over his broad chest. All the way through his panicked state his mind had been ticking away possible solutions to this horrible mess, and he had concluded only two for himself. But if Griff was telling the truth that he could trust him, then maybe Toby's chances of wriggling out of this would be higher than he first thought.
“I can't run, because they'd only chase me. If I'm caught running, they'll know who I am for sure.” He released a shuddery breath, trying to push back the horrible memory of being surrounded by armed guards and guns pointing straight at him, poking him, threatening him...
He shuddered. No way could he go back to that. He'd freak out, and this antagonisers would know of his weakness immediately and they'd only mock him for it. He was traumatised enough, he didn't need that humiliation as well.
“The only thing I can think of is that I let them arrest me.” He tried not to tense at the idea. Either way that would be a scary concept. He could already imagine their sneering faces when they thought they'd won. “If I have their complete attention you could... I don't know, edit the records or whatever it is you do.”

[Polo trapped in an inkpot]

Griffin saw Byron's lips slacken into a subtle smile, and he knew that he had got through to the man even before he replied.
“Alright,” He said quietly, still sounding only half convinced, “Okay, fine. What do you have in mind?”
"Food, mostly." He replied casually, plonking himself down on a couch and starting to rummage through his laptop bag, "I forgot to eat breakfast this morning."
Huffing irritably, as though his hunger was indeed the most important thing on his mind, Griffin gave up searching, and tipped the contents of his laptop bag onto the couch. It was filled with all sorts of ridiculous things, from a broken clockwork mouse to a suspicious stick of lipstick, and a multitude of important-looking papers scattered in between.
For a long moment, Griffin considered the mess with a frown, then he mumbled under his breath, "I think I need to rethink my life..."

Shrugging, he scratched through his mountain of junk, until at last he located a fancy-looking, bulky silver pen. Snatching it from amongst the garbage, he tossed it to Byron.
"That," He explained, "Is combined with a speaker that picks up on the Timekeepers' radios. I mostly use it to make sure my boss doesn't catch me taking my afternoon nap, but..." He shrugged, "I guess your need is greater than mine now. You twist the cap to turn it on. It won't help you much, but it's kinda cool, so whatever."
Next, he fished out a strange-looking plastic case that smelled vaguely of chemicals, and what looked like a container for contact lenses. Setting them out before him, he gestured for Byron to take a seat on the couch beside him, shoving his junk over to make space.
"These," He said, holding up the vaguely 'eight-shaped' container, "Are colour contacts. I've checked over your records, and we don't have any clear photos of you since you took on your new alias. At least, none that show the colour of your eyes. This way, we can distance you from your old self without damaging your likeness to your new alias - you follow?" He tossed the contacts toward Byron, and added, "They're horribly uncomfortable things, but you'll get used to it. Besides, who doesn't look good with green eyes, right?" He winked smugly, obviously making an effort to keep the atmosphere lighthearted. He wanted to keep his new friend at ease. Poor Byron looked so stressed, Griffin was worried his hair would start falling out...
Turning his attention back to the second box, he lifted the transparent lid, and carefully lifted out a sheet of thin, rubbery plastic.
"Now this is some neat stuff."
Standing up, Griffin walked to a nearby table, and blew the dust off the surface, scrubbing it briefly with his sleeve. From the box, he took out a light sheet of patterned metal, which he laid on the table, then he draped the plastic over it, and carefully peeled off a transparent film that clung to the upper side.
"Come here." He beckoned to Byron, then pointed to the plastic and said, "Put your fingers on there, spread out like this," He demonstrated, stretching his fingers wide apart, "Press down hard, and hold for a minute. It'll stick to your fingers, and give you fake prints. One of my more brilliant ideas, I think." He grinned, then finished confidently, "With this, all I have to do is tweak the records a bit, and the best evidence they'll have to go on is a small resemblance. So, basically, nothing at all."
Griffin smiled, clearly proud of himself, and gave Byron a friendly nudge in the side with his elbow.
"Believe me, it'll be okay. Even if they take it to the lie detector," He laughed, "It's my software. I'll just make the puppets dance for me."
His face at that moment was so devious, it was hard to believe that he was the same goody-two-shoes type that he had seemed before. Griffin had a dark side of note - who didn't, after growing up in the ghetto? - and the fact that the Timekeepers seemed to have forgotten that was obviously going to cost them dearly.
"Let's get you fixed up," He encouraged, "And then we can discuss a plan. We can make this work, I promise." He smiled, "I'd bet my own life on that."

[Dreambug]

Tobias rolled his eyes and turned away, astounded by Griff's reply. He was a funny sod, but there was really a time and a place to play dumb...
But when he turned back around and noticed Griff slouching on the sofa, he realised there was absolutely no point trying to get through to him. He could only wait for the child-like side to the man to grow up until he actually had a decent answer to give.
Still... Toby resisted the urge to hit him.

His face fell when he realised how many things Griff owned, and how disorganised he was. He didn't even look like he had a clue what the plan was. In fact, for a moment or two he didn't look like he had a clue about anything.
Toby watched him with a hand tugging at his hair, his teeth clenched with anxiety. What the Hell was Griff doing with lipstick in his bag? Then he was handed a pen, and he shot Griff a death glare. Writing something down was not the top thing on his list...
“That...” Griff explained. “Is combined with a speaker that picks up on the Timekeepers' radios. I mostly use it to make sure my boss doesn't catch me taking my afternoon nap, but... I guess your need is greater than mine now. You twist the cap to turn it on. It won't help you much, but it's kinda cool, so whatever.”
Frowning, Toby twisted the cap as instructed, and as Griff had said a crackling sound buzzed through the tiny, invisible speakers. Toby flinched at the sound, then twisted the cap again to turn it off, and tossed it onto the table. Having something that would warn him when the Timekeepers were on their way would only make him more nervous.
He sat down beside his friend on the sofa and leant over himself, resting his elbows on his knees. 'Stressed' didn't even cover how he looked.
When Griff handed him a small container he opened up each of the lids and peered curiously inside. In each small hole was a tiny, green circle no bigger than a fingernail. Then Griff went on to say they were contacts, and he just nodded. It would make sense, really. He should have thought of that earlier...
Screwing back on each lid he balanced the container on the sofa arm, then turned back to see what his friend had next. He was surprisingly equipped for such a scenario that Toby wondered exactly what he did in his spare time. Looking slightly more curious now, he peered at the plastic sheet Griff had pulled out, listening vaguely as he explained it's purpose. Fake prints. Nodding, he knotted his fngers together and glanced down at his feet. This was actually happening. He was no longer going to run from his captors, but let them lead him right into the lion's den. He just prayed to whoever would listen that it wasn't the last thing he'd do.
He pressed his fingers onto the plastic and felt something lift up onto the tips of his fingers. They had been lined with the finest of sticky plastic, so clear and fine that it was almost invisible to the naked eye. Toby flexed his fingers experimentally, then knotted them together again.
“With this, all I have to do is tweak the records a bit, and the best evidence they'll have to go on is a small resemblance. So, basically, nothing at all.”
Toby looked down at his hands. Griff sounded so confident... Like there was no way it could go wrong. But he wasn't in as much danger as Toby was going to be.
He flinched when an elbow nudged him playfully in the shoulder, and dragged his eyes up to meet Griff's. He looked genuinely nervous now.
“Believe me, it'll be okay. Even if they take it to the lie detector... It's my software. I'll just make the puppets dance for me.” Griff shot him a devious smirk. “"Let's get you fixed up. And then we can discuss a plan. We can make this work, I promise. I'd bet my own life on that.”
“Don't,” Toby pleaded quietly. Despite Griff's attempts to make him feel better, it didn't keep him from being scared out of his wits. If the Timekeepers had guns, if they made him feel helpless enough... He would snap. He couldn't go through that again, especially in front of his captors.
“Don't bet your life on anything.” He continued. “Just...” He smiled weakly. “Just know that my life is in your hands. Don't screw up.” He attempted at a nervous chuckle, and nudged Griff back in the side. “No pressure.”

Hissing in a breath he pushed himself to his feet, and began pacing the room nervously in attempt to calm himself down. When he got nervous, he got really nervous, and only exercise could calm him down usually. But he had Griff now, so he was hoping the man would have the right answers for him.
“Hey, Myl-” He stopped, then corrected himself. “Griff, can I ask you something, before we do this?” His eyes dropped onto Griff's casual figure draped on the sofa, his eyes twinkling with nerves. “If this were to go wrong you could lose your job... More importantly your life. You know I'm guilty of murder, yet here you are, about to save my life.” His brow creased. “Why are you doing this, really?”
I'm not worth it, the voice in his head kept gnawing away at him, and he slumped his shoulders. I'm not worth giving your life up for.
“Why do I matter so much to you?” He asked finally, but it was more of a plea than a demand. He honestly didn't think he was worth all this bother. It was what he'd told himself for the last fourteen years, anyway. He was better off alone. But somewhere, deep in the pit of his soul, he wanted a companion. If only he was allowed that luxury...

[Polo trapped in an inkpot]

“Don't,” Toby murmured, and the smile faded from Griffin's face as he saw the nervousness in his friend's eyes. No matter what he did, Toby still looked like a dear caught in headlights. "Toby-"
“Don't bet your life on anything.” His friend continued, “Just... Just know that my life is in your hands. Don't screw up. No pressure.” Griffin nearly stumbled forward when Toby nudged him, but he appreciated the gesture, and he returned the man's weak smile, his wide green eyes shining behind his glasses. "I won't let you down." He promised firmly, "You can count on that."
Even if things go pear shaped, I'll always have a plan B.
He watched as Toby stood up, pacing the room like a caged animal, and the frown gradually returned to his face. Griffin wished that he would stop... Toby was stressing him out.
At last, his friend stopped, looking at him, and Griffin tilted his head curiously to one side.
“Hey, Myl-” He blushed at the near-use of his fake name, “Griff, can I ask you something, before we do this?”
"Mhm." He nodded, "Anything. Except about politics or celebrities." He tried for a smile, but Toby was so nervous that he seemed immune to Griffin's usual good-natured humour.
“If this were to go wrong you could lose your job... More importantly your life. You know I'm guilty of murder, yet here you are, about to save my life.” He blinked meekly at this, nodding. Toby was just stating the obvious, but what did he want to know?
“Why are you doing this, really?”
Oh. Oh, so that was it. Come to think of it, that was a pretty good question...
“Why do I matter so much to you?” Toby asked, sounding almost despairing.
Tilting his head to the side and tapping his chin thoughtfully, Griffin considered this. Then, without a word, he removed his glasses and rubbed the heels of his palms over his eyes, as though trying to wipe away the faint lines that stress had left there.
Still silent, Griffin began rubbing the lenses of his glasses with his shirt, and he kept his gaze focused on his job when he finally did speak.

"Let me tell you a story, Toby." He began, tilting his glasses left and right to make the reflection of the light overhead dance in his eyes.
"The two of us aren't so different, really. I was born here, too." He raised a hand and flicked his fingers, gesturing vaguely to the ghetto, "There's something to be said for what growing up in poverty can do to a person's conscience. I'll admit, I've not always been on the right side of the law." He glanced up at Toby with a subtle smirk, his rebellious expression devilishly handsome in the absence of his glasses, "The thing is, you've got me pegged as a regular old Timekeeper, don't you?" He shook his head, "But I'm not like that. Life is..." He frowned, closing his eyes, and shook his head again - looking faintly confused now, "It's... Not just about following the law. It's about morals, and- and right and wrong, and- Hell, I don't know. Confusing." He chuckled awkwardly, ruffling his scruffy blonde hair. "I guess what I'm trying to say is... Well, I don't like to see innocent people suffer, and I really don't like the state of this world, with the rich getting richer, and the poor dying for their greed." His brows drew together in a frown, "I didn't become a Timekeeper to uphold the law... I did it to uphold justice. I thought the two would go hand in hand, but it seems that's seldom the case. The corruption is just... It's disgusting." He shuddered, "The point is..." Looking up at Toby, Griffin met his gaze, holding it intently, "I've spent sleepless nights studying your case, and since I've met you, I don't buy it. Not for a minute. Maybe I'm wrong, but I don't see you as a guy who'd kill somebody for no reason. There's a difference between a killer and a murderer." His eyes narrowed, "I've seen both, and you're no murderer, Toby. You just don't have the mind of one. Or if you do, then you're a diabolical genius when it comes to hiding it." He shot a crooked grin, and added, "Besides, Superman always kills the bad guy. You don't see anybody locking him up, do you now?"
Winking playfully, Griffin stood up, and gave Toby's shoulder a friendly squeeze.
"Lighten up." He advised gently, "I'm repaying a favour, that's all. You saved my life, so I'll save yours. Pretty simple, don't you think?"

[Dreambug]

In his anxious state, for a moment, Toby wondered whether Griff could actually answer that question, or whether he was really just putting on an act to get him arrested. But finally, when Griff held his glasses in one hand and looked matter-of-factly back at Tobias he realised Griff meant business. He sat back on the arm of the sofa, tired out by the stress of the last few minutes, and listened to Griff's story.
Well, he had to admit he didn't believe it at first. A Timekeeper that made his way up from the gutter? Things like that happened in the movies, but in real life they could take decades just to go up a rank or two. Then again, for all he knew, Griff could be decades older than he was. Plus, he had brains. And the way he spoke... Come to think of it, he had somewhat of an accent like that of someone from the ghetto. Nothing too obvious, but he didn't always enunciate certain consonants like people from the richer time zones spoke. Toby wondered how he'd not noticed this before.
Then, at Griff's devilish little grin he felt his lips tug upwards at the cheeky glint in his eye. This new Myles was a funny one.
“The thing is, you've got me pegged as a regular old Timekeeper, don't you?” Griff accused, and Toby just nodded honestly at him. Yes, guilty as charged. They were all the same to him, anyway.
Then Griff went on to talk about why he'd joined the Timekeepers, about his views on morals and the law, and Tobias felt his eyebrows raise towards the sky. The unnerving thing was... Griff thought exactly like he did. Exactly. Toby knew what the poverty was like in the ghetto, and it was despicable. But he'd never thought of joining the Timekeepers because he knew how brutal they could be. Plus, he didn't have the brains needed to get as high as Griff had. His own plan had been to wait until they stopped chasing him then go live in the rich regions, find out exactly where all the Time was going, and take it all. Not for himself, obviously. But it had never occurred to him to try and join the Timekeepers. He didn't have the record for it, anyway.
“I've spent sleepless nights studying your case, and since I've met you, I don't buy it. Not for a minute. Maybe I'm wrong, but I don't see you as a guy who'd kill somebody for no reason. There's a difference between a killer and a murderer.” Griff peered at him, and Toby looked away. “I've seen both, and you're no murderer, Toby. You just don't have the mind of one. Or if you do, then you're a diabolical genius when it comes to hiding it.”
Tobias' lips lifted weakly, but he wasn't convinced. “Well I'm not a diabolical genius, I'll tell you that.” He replied, his eyes twinkling.
“Besides, Superman always kills the bad guy. You don't see anybody locking him up, do you now?”
His smile sank from his face, despite Griff's light-hearted humour. It may have seemed like a joke, but he really didn't see himself as a 'hero' by a long shot, especially now.
Still, when he felt a warm touch on his shoulder he welcomed it, and raised his head, trying again for a smile.
“Lighten up,” Griff ordered. “I'm repaying a favour, that's all. You saved my life, so I'll save yours. Pretty simple, don't you think?”
It hardly seemed worth it, but Tobias nodded anyway. Griff was sacrificing more than his life for this one favour, Toby had saved his ass without caring much for what happened to himself. Griff was going to go against everyone he worked for and with. There was a big difference between the two.
“Okay.” He agreed quietly, pulling himself to his feet. “Sorry, I-...” He scratched his head awkwardly. “This is just a bizarre concept for me. You know... Having someone actually want to do this for me. I've spent so long avoiding people...” He frowned for a moment, then seemed to shake it off and placed a hand on Griff's shoulder.
“Thanks.” He nodded, his eyes now smiling more than the rest of his face. “If we're both still alive after this is over, remind me that I owe you a coffee.” He winked.

Sighing, Tobias brushed passed his friend to the scattered pieces of paper on the floor, and began to pick them up one-by-one. He managed to avert his eyes for most of them, but a newspaper clipping caught his attention. It had a rather ugly, blurry picture of his face, half hidden by a long, dark blonde fringe that he had when he was a young teenager, obviously taken by a security camera. The headline read 'GHETTO TEEN MURDERS TIME MANAGER'.
Toby sighed through his teeth and stuffed it in the pile with the the other sheets. Once the folder was more intact, he straightened and studied the thickness of it. It was ridiculous.
“They make me sound like such a monster.” He growled, handing the folder back to Griff, with a serious frown.
Maybe they're right, he thought secretly.

[Polo trapped in an inkpot]

There was a long moment of silence while Toby thought. Then, at last, he agreed, and Griffin smiled as he watched the man get to his feet.
“Sorry, I-...” He began awkwardly, “This is just a bizarre concept for me. You know... Having someone actually want to do this for me. I've spent so long avoiding people...”
Griffin just chuckled at this, dismissing Toby's words with a shake of his head. "I figured." He replied, looking up with shining eyes as he felt his friend's hand on his shoulder. A small flicker of warmth fluttered through him at the gesture, and as he slid his glasses back onto his face, Griffin was reminded uncomfortably of how long it had been since anyone had shown him any warmth. He supposed he and Toby were in the same boat, really... Even if it didn't quite seem that way at first.
“Thanks.” Toby said earnestly, his eyes so warm that for a moment Griffin found himself trapped in the gaze, “If we're both still alive after this is over, remind me that I owe you a coffee.”
"You're so pessimistic." Griffin snorted, shaking his head, "I thought I told you to lighten up, Mister Doom 'n Gloom. It'll be fine."

Unfortunately, despite his reassurance, Toby still did not look entirely convinced, and Griffin felt his perpetual smile fade as the man brushed past him, heading over to the documents still scattered over the floor, having come free from their folder. He watched silently as Toby slowly gathered them, pausing to look at one now and then, until he finally handed the folder back to Griffin.
“They make me sound like such a monster.” He growled, and Griffin nodded sympathetically. "They do that." He murmured, "The press are nobody's friend... But enough of this." Demeanor suddenly changing, Griffin tossed the folder carelessly over his shoulder, where it landed conveniently on the couch amongst the rest of his junk.
"More importantly, let's discuss your impending doom, shall we?" He smiled pleasantly, then randomly snatched a pack of cards from his pocket, and dealt a hand for himself and Toby. Clearly, important matters were not to be discussed without a card game in motion.
While the two played - although they were not always playing the same game - Griffin explained the plan.
The Timekeepers were planning to arrive at the bar at 6PM, where they would find Toby waiting - none the wiser to their intentions - and working his usual shift. They would apprehend him, and Toby would go along quietly. Griffin - being off work 'sick' - would not be there, but would instead be at the office, tweaking and updating all the records, and tampering with his software. He would leave before they arrived, and call up his boss expressing doubts about Toby's guilt, at which point the Timekeepers would start checking the records and, haunted by doubt, call Griffin in to assist with the interrogation. Griffin would hook Toby up to the lie detector, prove his innocence once and for all, and the man would be able to leave with a clean name to live under.
The way Griffin saw it, his plan could not fail. But then again, that depended on one thing.
"So basically," He murmured, placing a king on top of the one Toby had just played, then casually taking the pile of cards for himself (He seemed to have decided that they were playing 'Snap' now), "You'll just need to play along and tolerate them until I can get you out of there. I know it'll be difficult," He started shuffling the cards, "But you'll have to make sure you act like you think you're innocent. They shouldn't be too rough - by law they're not allowed to - but watch out for Paisley." Griffin raised a hand, brandishing an Ace of Spades, and jabbed it firmly toward Toby, punctuating his words, "Paisley is a moronic dick, and he's obsessed with this case, because now he's 'won'," His fingers carved sarcastic quotation marks in the air, "It from me. It's like his big break, his chance to prove that he's better than me. Ha." Griffin snorted in amusement, "He's an idiot, but watch out for him. He'll be reluctant to let this go, and you can bet that he'll fight us with everything he has... But nobody can argue with hard evidence, and when it comes to that..." He winked, and held up a card in front of his face, "I'm the King."
There was a moment of silence, then he turned the card around, stared at it, and muttered, "Ah, shit, that was a queen. Awkward..."

[Dreambug]

Toby wasn't sure what he was expecting, but an agreement wasn't it. He looked down, seeming ever so defeated, until Griff stuffed a pack of cards in his palm. Toby stared at them in a bemused fashion.
“Impending doom...” He echoed half-heartedly, shooting Griff a funny look. “Right.”
And so the two young men played, although Toby wasn't all that sure he knew what was going on half the time, and he was sure Griff was changing the game half way through, but he pretended not to notice. Instead, he sat with his legs crossed and listened to Griff's plan on how they could clear his name.
It was well-thought out, and Toby admitted he'd underestimated Griff's powers as a Timekeeper, and a genius. He wasn't even aware that one man could pull such a huge task off. But hey, as long as they stuck to the plan, things looked promising for them both. If it didn't work out then... Well, he wasn't sure he was strong enough to go there again.
Griff explained the procedure again as he placed down a card onto the cold floor. Raising an eyebrow, Toby copied him.
He listened to Griff's advice on how to act, then raised an eyebrow at the mention of this 'Paisley' man. The name reminded him too much of 'parsley', so he wasn't entirely sure he'd be able to take that certain individual seriously, but he took Griff's advice into account. He'd have to be careful with his word choices. Fair enough. It was easy for a man who'd been lying half his life to lie again.
“He's an idiot, but watch out for him. He'll be reluctant to let this go, and you can bet that he'll fight us with everything he has... But nobody can argue with hard evidence, and when it comes to that... ” Griff lifted a card and held it loosely in his fingertips, holding a very evident Queen at Toby. “I'm the King,” he finished.
Toby glanced down at the card, then at him, his face deadly serious. When it came to humour, he was the best at poker faces. He blinked at his friend once. Then twice. Resting his head in a palm in a bored fashion.
Griff seemed to notice his mistake and checked the card again. “Ah, shit, that was a queen. Awkward... ”
Toby's dull eyes sparkled at him. “Yeah... I'm afraid to tell you this, but you don't have the chest to be a queen, my friend.” He smirked, then punched Griff gently in his upper chest to prove his point. With a quiet muffled laugh, he dropped his remaining cards on the ground, before stretching his arms above his head. “Okay, you win. As always.” He murmured, then turned away to find his green contacts.
“I suppose I'd better get these on...” He added, staring at the small, oddly-shaped box like it was about to sprout wings and flutter out of the room. With a sigh, he unscrewed each lid and picked out the contacts one-by-one.
It took a few tries but eventually he had them in, and blinked excessively in order to get used to them added onto his eye ball. Once he was sure they were in properly he squinted at Griff, blinked, and smiled slightly at him. “Wow... These feel weird.” He mused.

[Polo trapped in an inkpot]

Griffin smiled when he saw the light return to Toby's eyes, but before he could be pleased for long, his friend said, “Yeah... I'm afraid to tell you this, but you don't have the chest to be a queen, my friend.” Toby thumped him in the chest to demonstrate, and through it was a light blow, the impact made Griffin flinch, and he rubbed his chest tenderly as he grumbled under his breath to himself. When his masculinity was questioned, Griffin had always been particularly touchy. He was a good-looking man, that was true, but he most certainly didn't seem to see it. What he did see, however, - what he never failed to see - was that he simply was not like other men. Dainty in build and small in stature, Griffin's frame - although toned - simply refused to bulk up, and he remained as slender and elegant as a pre-pubescent boy.
Throughout his life, he had been the butt of many jokes because of it - not all of them well-meaning - and they had eventually led to an insecurity in him. Still, being Griffin, he hid it well, and when Toby stood up, he pushed the moment out of his mind and let it go.

He remained quiet a few more moments, however, even after he stood up and packed his cards away. He didn't even boast when Toby conceded his victory.
When the other man began putting in the contacts, however, Griffin glanced at him curiously. Toby struggled for a while, but at last he managed it, and Griffin smiled at the strange sight of his friend with green eyes.
“Wow... These feel weird.” Toby commented, blinking at him, and Griff smiled in response. "They look weird." He agreed, "I prefer you with blue eyes, but anyway," He shrugged, "I guess it can't be helped."
Sitting down on the couch, Griffin began shoveling all his things back into his bulging laptop bag. When he got to the lipstick, he considered it with a puzzled frown, as though wondering how it had got there, then shrugged and tossed it over his shoulder at random. Probably somebody's sick idea of a joke.
Frowning, he stood, the heavy bag cutting into his shoulder once more, and turned to Toby.
"You'd best get back to the bar." He advised, "If you need me, you've got my number. Don't be afraid to call."
With a warm smile and a tiny wave, Griffin turned to leave, heading back to the elevator which would take him to his car waiting outside.
It was time to put the plan in motion.

[Dreambug]

Tobias narrowed at Griff's reaction to his new, green eyes. Hadn't he just said green eyes were attractive? Still... He couldn't do anything about it now, could he?
He grabbed his jacket quicker than needed to keep himself from getting second thoughts, and yanked it on himself. If he thought about it too much he'd end up turning and running away from the situation, which wouldn't help. As he said, if he ran, they'd only chase him. The less they know about him, the better.
"You'd best get back to the bar." Griff informed him, but he was already half way through getting ready. He tightened the laces of his boots and zipped up his dirty, brown jacket. He'd keep his arm warmers on, but he was aware they'd probably take them off him when they took him to the station.
When they arrest me.
He scrunched his eyes closed. It would be difficult to just sit and wait for them to come and take him away, but he had to control himself. It wasn't only the arrest he was worried about, though. It was the Timekeepers themselves. They looked too much like the armed guards that killed his brother...
Hissing in a breath, he forced himself to listen for what Griff had to say as he packed away his things. "If you need me, you've got my number. Don't be afraid to call."
"Don't count on it." Toby replied with a weak smile. He would never get that desperate. At least... Not desperate enough to admit he was scared.
When he'd finally got ready to leave, Griff had already left.

He arrived at the bar even dirtier than before due to a crazy drive there on the bike, and his hair had taken up a new, messy form. He didn't bother to change it however, since it seemed to help him with his new looks.
"Dan?" He called into the back room.
There was a loud thud and his boss swore, then wandered out into the corridor, rubbing his head with a faint grimace. "Your shift doesn't start for another two hours, you know."
Toby shrugged. He'd have to explain later. "I've got nothing to do. Might as well do something productive."
Dan seemed to accept this easily. It was something Toby did often. "Okay, well table 5 dropped a glass and didn't bother to tell us, so that needs cleaning up. Then I'm sure things will pack up through dinner time."
Toby nodded, trying to avert his eyes. The lesser the questions, the easier this would be. "I'll get right to it."
Hissing in a breath, he headed to the front room to begin sweeping up the broken glass and busy himself at the till. Timekeepers would be there within the hour. He just prayed they'd go easy on him.

[Polo trapped in an inkpot]

Once he had left, Griff headed home, arriving at his workplace just after the other Timekeepers had left. Slipping on a pair of dark sunglasses - mostly to build atmosphere - Griffin crept in, casting a nervous glance around. The place was mostly deserted, and the few people still working remained focused on their jobs as Griff headed casually off to mess with the system.

Meanwhile, totally unaware that their plans were falling apart around them, the squad of Timekeepers assigned to the Byron Willoughby case were getting out of their vehicles outside a dodgy-looking pub in downtown Dayton.
"Man, what a dump." John Paisley sneered, wrinkling his nose as he kicked the door of his Hummer closed behind him.
"It's no wonder that scum Willoughby is hiding out here." He smirked, swiping his heavily-gelled black hair back from his face.
"Well boys," He turned to his team, "You ready to make history?"
He flashed a queasy smile, and as The Chief got out of the Hummer, he tapped him sharply on the chin. "Dial it down, Paisley." Despite his firm tone, he couldn't quite keep the smile from his lips. The case had been ongoing for years, and the entire team were beyond excited to finally bring it to a close.
"Keep it together now, men!" The Chief barked, "Let's put an end to this."
With that, he straightened his hat, flicking a cigarette between his yellow teeth, and the group strode forward together into the bar.
"Tobias Cardwell?" The Chief asked, striding up to the counter with his badge in hand, "We've got some questions to ask you, regarding a man called Byron Willoughy. Mind taking a trip downtown with me?"
Paisley, standing behind him, smirked darkly, and flicked back the tail of his coat to reveal a gun strapped to his belt. He patted the handle, and lifted his gaze toward Toby, eyes narrowing as his lips thinned into a wider smile.
"You have the right to remain silent," The Chief went on, plucking a pair of handcuffs from his belt, "Everything you say can and will be used against you in a court of law. You have the right to an attorney-"
"Not that you'll need to bother with that." Paisley cut in in his greasy voice, "We know what you did, Byron. He stepped forward, lifting up his gun and resting his chin casually against it, "Just why do you wear those arm warmers, huh? Trying to hide the life you stole?" He spat on the counter, "Despicable!"
"Paisley." The Chief stopped him with a hand on his chest, and looked up dangerously at Toby.
"We have you surrounded." He said, "I suggest you come quietly."

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