milliways_bar | (no subject)

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Alana Bloom takes a long time to screw up her courage. She tells herself that she's only leaving a note--just an inquiry, really--and eventually gathers her wits and figures out what she wants to say.

To whom it may concern,

My name is Alana Bloom, and I have frequently suffered harassment at the hands of one Dr. Hannibal Lecter. He is from my world and often tortures me about events from there that occur in his timeline--specifically my future. Does this count as outside business?

I appreciate any advice you care to impart on this matter. Thank you for your kind attention and quick response.

Dr. Alana Bloom

After she drops the note off at the bar, Alana takes a seat there. Bar offers her a latte, and she sips at it gratefully while waiting for someone from Security to respond, her knee jiggling.

[OOC: Open to all, and open forever.]

Flat | Top-Level Comments Only

"Hercule Poirot at your service, Doctor." He touches his forehead in the way he would tap the brim of his hat (which he is of course not wearing inside). "I was a private detective most successful. But long ago, before the Great War, I served with the police in Brussels."

Alana's smile broadens, ever so slightly. "Pleasure to meet you," she says, inclining her head. "You must have such a unique perspective. How long were you a detective?"

"I started on my own..." He has to do a little math. "It was well over 30 years before my passing. Longer that I served on the police.

"And you, mademoiselle? You seem to have a rather strong interest in such things?" He knows that in the future, women are more likely to serve as police.

"My condolences for your passing," Alana says, her tone soft. Then she brightens again. "I am not part of any police force, but I have done consulting work with the Federal Bureau of Investigation in the States."

"Ah, the FBI. I did not have the pleasure of meeting any special agents in my day." Though he isn't sure it would have been a pleasure. Hoover seemed to be a thug from afar. "What sort of consultation do you do, Doctor?"

"I'm a psychologist, so I offer profiles on serial killers and other difficult cases," Alana says, inclining her head. "Where were you a detective?"

"In London. I worked on such cases, and did attempt to understand the people and not merely the facts, but I did not have such a degree." He respects the field, but is not sure that a degree in anything makes one a better detective.

"I'm sure you did just fine at understanding people," Alana says, nodding thoughtfully. "You wouldn't have been a very successful detective if you didn't."

"That is kind of you to say. But I knew many in the various departments of police in the world who succeeded despite not understanding the mind." Or much at all.

"How?" Alana says, blinking at him. "I would have thought that was a crucial skill for police work."

"They bull their way through the cases, and they do understand things like clues. And if sometimes they get the false conviction that is not overturned, they care not." He cannot stand such men, but had no standing to stop most.

Alana's eyes widen. "That's terrible. Was there a high rate of false convictions with such men?"

"High enough to give me some pause. Not high enough to be a scandal. And the men I worked with the most, they did listen to me." Though Inspector Japp always needed some convincing.

"I see," Alana says, shaking ber head again. "That's truly unfortunate. All those innocent people. Were you ever able to overturn some of those convictions or submit evidence to the contrary?"

"On some occasions. There were people who did not give up proving the innocence, and they would hire me from time to time." He clearly takes some pride in that.

"Good, I'm glad to hear that," Alana says, with an easy smile. "I assume you liked the challenge of the work? You must have, to have done it for thirty years."

"It was how I kept the little grey cells busy. Oh, there were other challenges, but this was the one that I like the best." Better than quiet work for the government during the war. And much better than growing mallows in retirement.

"And you? You like the work with the Federal Bureau?"

"I understand," Alana says, inclining her head again. "And yes, I like my work with the FBI, but more than that, I am a professor of psychology. I love my students. I also take the occasional patient on in a private practice. There's a lot I like about my life."

"I did not feel the desire to teach, but it is an important thing, to share one's knowledge with the next generation." Not that he did, despite several efforts to get him to write his memoirs.

Alana nods, and then sighs. "Unfortunately, I haven't been back to my world in about a year, so I barely remember what I was teaching."

"You live here now? But you are still alive?" He's quite surprised to hear that. Who would choose such a thing?

"I do, sort of, and I am," Alana says, rubbing her furrowed brow. "I... I've been afraid to go back to my world. Someone there is lying in wait, ready to kill me."

The verbose detective is silent for a long moment.

"I see. And there is no way to prepare for your return? To defend yourself?" It's not the best solution, but it is the sort a former policeman and survivor of two wars might consider.

"A friend hae given me body armor to wear under my clothes," Alana says, shuddering. "I have a gun. And I'm taking two competent warriors back with me. I'm waiting on one to return from her world now."

"That is good. But I did not mean to disturb you." What she is going through, it should be private. It is not his business unless she wishes it to be.