You enter the San Angeles - Western Mall District.

San Angeles - Western Mall District

The usual onslaught of noise pollution assaults you as you enter this district. The same multi level highways decorate the area, with buildings towering above the ground. Yawn. However, there are structures here not found in other places of the city, namely the GigaMalls. These massive cube-like structures are -titanic- in size and contain thousands of stores and restaurants and even woodland parks within. A self contained technological ecosystem in itself. The GigaMalls here are known for having anything and everything you could ever want bad enough to spend the kind of money they charge for it here.

Contents: Contents:

Bowie [Casual] [MH]

East <E>: San Angeles - Business District

Northeast <NE>: San Angeles - Northern Residential

South <S>: San Angeles - Western Residential

West <W>: San Angeles - Wharf District

North <N>: Teleportation Area--San Angeles

Nothing like scoping out a new city to brighten your day.

Feste, having once again escaped the evil tourists of London, strolls rather casually through the Mall's main promenade, checking it out for future reference. This will do nicely! Now to check the acoustics. The Fool, hands still in pockets, sings as he walks. His voice can be heard pretty clearly for a good distance. Not a bad tune, either, if a bit...archaic. It inevitably draws stares, but Feste does an excellent job of not caring.

"Now the green blade riseth from the buried grain, Wheat that in dark eath many days has lain;" o/`

o/` "Love lives again, that with the dead has been; Love is come again, like wheat that springeth green."

Bowie strolls through the mall, a bag from the local SuperBorders clutched in his left hand. Once again, he's feeding his reading habit. As he takes the down escelator to the main promenade, he catches part of the song. He might not recognize it, but it's a fair sight better than the Muzack normally played.

o/` "In the grave they laid him, Love whom men had slain,"

"Thinking that never would he wake again, Laid in the earth like grain that sleeps unseen," o/`"Love is come again, Like wheat that springeth green."

The song is an old one, a hymn dating back to who knows when. The Fool takes special pleasure in that sort of thing. You could call it a hobby. Or an obsession. Or even an addiction.

He continues on, unbothered by the stares of passersby and absolutely unhindered by the crush of the crowd. He's rather easy to sight in the crowd; standing out with his height and his blonde hair. Quite an odd sight...

Six feet isn't all that tall. At least not in Bowie's opinion. He steps off the escalator and begins crossing through the promenade. Having no real set destination (though the thought of picking up flowers for Kalinka has crossed his mind), he finds himself walking towards the singing. As he listens, the voice seems vaguely familiar, but he can't quite place it.

"Forth he came at Easter, like the risen grain, He that for three days in the grave had lain," o/`

"Quick from the dead my risen Lord is seen:

"Love is come again, Like wheat that springeth green."

Finis! The Fool opens his eyes again, smiling benevolently at the staring bystanders, who continue to stare for the space of a moment. Whatta weirdo...

Feste catches sight of Bowie, though at the moment he thinks nothing of it. Just some guy. Can't see him all that well, after all. Nothing to be worried about; carry on... A second hymn enters his mind, another on the topic of Easter. Hmm. Maybe he's making up for the fact he hasn't been to church in years. Maybe he just wants to sing.

In this part of the world, a guy with Bowie's looks and Western togs aren't all that remarkable. The Texan catches sight of Feste shortly after he does, though it takes him a moment to place name and face. He alters course, heading towards him. "Mr. Nisse?" he calls.

...

Feste's reaction is immediate and decidedly strange. He stops in his tracks, eyes widening briefly. Who...? Who knows him here? That was not supposed to happen. The past is...

Feste blinks at Bowie, similarly placing name and face. Oh. Oh. "...Mr. Bowie?"

Bowie offers Feste a friendly smile as he catches up with him. "Howdy. Bit far frum London, aren't ya?"

Feste blinks again. Say something, stupid, he mentally chides himself.

"Er, yes. Hello."

Bowie is, unfortunately, not the person for small talk. So he's not exactly sure what to say after this. "So Uh...how's thangs?"

Feste blinks yet again. He finds himself similarly at a loss, though for distinctly different reasons. Partly because his memory of this man is sketchy; partly because he has a memory of this man at all.

"They are well, I suppose," says the Fool with a shrug, still trying to remember just *what* the circumstances of this memory were. There's the nagging feeling of something unfinished. Something someone had to do, and Andruw Nisse never found out if was finished or not. Something like that. Better to keep talking, though. "And how are you, pray tell?"

Bowie says "Not bad..." He glances around, noting the small coffee shop tucked into the space between a clothing outlet and a furniture store. "...been meanin t'call ya, actually. Could Ah intrest ya in a cup a coffee? If Ah'm not interruptin ya frum somethang."

Oh goodness. Feste almost shrugs. Call him? Bwuh?

Bowie would have found the phone number disconnected; the email address returning to sender; the radio frequency left unanswered. Andy Nisse has all but vanished off the face of the Earth, absorbed into...this. The Fool.

"Really!" he remarks, "That would be lovely. No, no, not at all." He was, after all, just wandering around singing until something interesting happened. It's one of his favorite pastimes!

Bowie starts heading in the direction of the coffee shop. Hopefully somewhere in the hundreds of selections, 'plain, 2 sugars' is on the menu. Whatever he has to share will have to wait until they find a table.

Feste follows, still trying to remember. Damn, and it could've been important. Whatever it *was*, it's piqued his curiousity, and now he /has/ to know.

Fortunately, as a denizen of metropolitan London, Feste is coffee-savvy. He orders one of those newfangled combinations of three different coffees. An obscene amount of caffeine. (oops.)

Bowie has plain and simple tastes in coffee. After 10 years in the police force, he's perfectly happy just to get fresh coffee in a clean mug.

The coffee shop doesn't have very many patrons right now, and so finding a table in the corner is a simple task. Once they sit down and doctor their coffees to their preference, Bowie starts talking again. "Did Saigama ever call ya?"

Feste gets his own coffee. Chances are he will not drink it, just because. But hey.

He takes his seat, looking Bowie in the eye for a moment, only to break away at the mention of Saigama. "S...Saigama?" He pauses, scratching his chin. "...I knew it had a 'sai' in it," he murmurs. Guess that's some sort of 'no'.

Bowie raises an eyebrow slightly. "Saigama. Ya know, teenage kid, Japanese, one who got in trouble an disappeared?"

Feste blinks. "Oh. Oh! Right." So that was what that was... Hm... He goes with the assumption that this Saigama was one of his students, and just continues. "Did you ever find him?" asks Feste, curious. Overly, considering he was *there*...

Bowie's brow furrows slightly. "Uh, weren't ya there when he found me?"

"Was I? Curious, that..." He takes a sip of his coffee, wincing slightly at the taste. It has yet to occur to him that this is odd behavior. The whole asking about an event he was present for. Oh well.

"Ya mean ya don't remember?" Bowie asks, curious now.

Feste shrugs, smiling amiably. "My memory of that particular day is a bit..sketchy, you see... I believe I had quite a lot on my mind." A very slight cough. There are far too many blanks...

Bowie doesn't quite seem to buy that, but he nods anyway. "Ah wunnered if he'd tried contactin ya since then."

Feste is telling no lies, here, strangely. "Well, /no/," he answers. "I suppose he hasn't." Seeing as I can't bloody well remember him, is the silent addition.

Feste adds, "Why is this important, if you don't mind my asking, sir?"

Bowie says "Because ya were helpin me look fer him." A pause as he sips his coffee. "An because apparently ya knew who he really was, an didn't tell me."

Feste mouthes the word 'oh'. "I see." He takes a sip, almost exactly as Bowie does -- mocking? Who knows. "My apologies, sir."

"An ya don't remember this," he says, half question, half statement.

Feste smiles. "Apparently so, wouldn't you think?" He thinks deeper on this Saigama fellow... who... no, not quite a student. Someone different. The name 'Saigama' doesn't strike much of a chord, but the name associated -- Tengu -- does. Somewhat.

Either way, the Fool would rather *not* remember. "Again, sirrah, my apologies."

Bowie says " 'Sall right." Apparently he's not going to gripe about someone else's memory problems. It'd be hypocritical. "Though a word a advice to ya. Don't go lookin fer him. Ah'm still not sure whut's goin on, but he's not right in the head. Better ya stay away frum him."

"Is that /so/," says Feste, sotto voce. "Freely given, freely taken." He rises from his seat, neutral expression on his face. "Please excuse me, Master Bowie. I have a prior appointment." Which he doesn't. He's a pretty good liar, too. "We should speak again sometimes. Perhaps of Te--" he stops himself before completing the word, "Of Saigama, or perhaps of something else. Good day."

With that, he leaves -- did he just make you pay the bill?