Temporal Fuckery

muni_icon.png nobara_icon.png

Where: Primatech paper

When: July 19th 2012

What: Muni Shaw. Senior Company Agent delivers a assignment to Nobara that is quite unlike anything he's done before.

"Minawa" Muni Shaw steps in through the doorway of the office that Nobara shares with his partner - whomever that is at this time - looking to make sure it's just the Asian man present before shutting the door behind him. It's paperwork day, and what looks to be in a folder under Senior Agent Shaw's arm, looks suspiciously like paperwork.

It's been tricky so far. Nobara has only been here a few months- enough to yet again establish that he is, in fact, operating with the gravitas of a candy apple, and the action of a small hurricane. Feet come down off of the desk like dropped weights, and Nobara sits straight up in his chair again. Paperwork day, if he liked doing paperwork…

Suffice to say, sometimes his written briefings are not as professional as they could be. 'He needed a good teeth whitening and some listerine' does not go in the report.

"Siiir?" Nobara shoves the mess on his desktop to one side, in the vague shape of a pile. If he likes it that way.

"Good. Jared isn't here" The thick file is slapped down, the facial hair bearing man looking to the pile of already present files and then to Nobara's feet. "You're a snazzy dresser aren't you?"

Pen pinned between teeth and one hovering hand, Nobara leans back and regards his boss with a bit of a squint, eyebrows lifting.
"What gave you that idea?" Probably the snazzy shoes. Has to be. Or the button-up shirt that seems otherwise immaculate- and an obnoxious shade of light purple. Sure. The young man taps his heels on the floor. "Why don't you want Jared here? Seems like I can't do anything without someone getting him crawling up my back about it."

"Because Jared's not in the picture and this is an assignment that needs to be fulfilled by only certain individuals" There's a gesture to the folder as Muni opts to take over Jareds desk and chair. Inside the folder clipped to the front of a detailed report that speak's for it's authenticity, is a picture. Some nightclub, a man and a woman showing off an obnoxious ring and smiling. The state of the photograph and the people dressed in it scream someplace in the 1950's

"Certain… individuals?" Nobara parrots curiously, looking over the folder before he does the report cover, and the picture clipped to it. "Retro. The nightclub too." He is interested, mainly because of the - ah- secrecy, thusfar. "That looks like a lot of extra reading."

"When I say certain individuals, I'm referring to those caught photobombing pictures taken in what we think is 1955" Muni leans forward, moving his finger to the picture in question, a top corner, where there's someone looking at the camera.

Where Nobara is looking at the camera.

Nobara's slackjawed expression is promptly replaced by one of an exaggerated frown. He pulls the folder over to himself, as if spiriting it away will do something else. The scoff on his breath turns into a louder sound of disbelief.

"I'd say 'that's not me', but, you know-" Nobara knows it is him- or at least someone that is convincingly him. "I don't recall this." He turns up his chin and puts the folder back down again, eyes lidding like a house cat deciding it would rather look elsewhere.

"Temporal fuckery, obviously. We have a suspicion, we have agents working on locating the how, but if you don't remember, it means likely that you haven't quite done it yet. Whatever it is. But- " But. "I'd suggest, that you go in search of a nice suit if I were you, as the moment we find out, or figure it out, well" it goes without saying. "You'll obviously be in attendance to what seems to be an engagement"

Nobara laughs, shoulders quivering, and teeth flashing before he puts his palms on the desk. "At least you aren't punishing me for something I haven't done yet. I'd have to call my old man and tell him he's lost first place."

"Nice suit? You think I only have nice dresses? I have nice suits. Best find a retro one though, by the looks of it." There's a small, dismissive wag of his hand on the ball of his wrist. "Why would I even be at an engagement party? I think marriage is overrated. Love weddings though. I can't have gone for hors d'oeuvres from the fifties…"

"I'm not a telepath or ever a psychometer, so I couldn't tell you why you're at that place. We'll have more information once more individuals with… specialized skills, can tell us what's going on, but I can tell you, that it seems to be you, and that picture was taken in the fifties. So dress snazzy, or at least, find something that looks like it might be in that picture" The file it seems, is Nobara's.

"I can do that, no problem. As long as nobody tries to take me in for being a dirty Jap- if I actually go… Just what else is in here?" He can't resist. Nobara reaches for the folder to flip through it this time, rather than just see what is pointed out to him. "This isn't my permanent record, is it?" God knows what's in there. Also the devil, no doubt.

"I can do that, no problem. As long as nobody tries to take me in for being a dirty Jap- if I actually go…" Nobara reaches for the folder again, to flip through it this time, rather than just see what is pointed out to him. "Whose party is it? Do we know these people? Where did you even get this?" He looks up over the folder towards the senior agent, vaguely suspicious.

"You know better than to ask where we got it. It's always what do we do with it, after we have it. All i know is that it was handed down to us, because it seem that you are in the picture. In 1955 it seems. The place, best we can guess, is a nightclub that was only open for a very short period of time. But while it was open, it apparently was a smash. The people, are no one, best that we can tell"

"Soooo, I went to no-one's engagement party?" That's totally convincing. And asking where it came from was worth a shot, considering the subject matter. "The fifties were a lounge era. Nightclubs were less dubstep, more twostep." That is certainly one way to put it. Nobara leans back in his chair and continues his rifling. There's not much besides the facts, unfortunately. "So what happens now? I keep a fancy suit around, waiting for a wormhole to open up, or a TARDIS to appear in my bedroom?"

"Pretty much. Better that you know, as opposed to not and are prepared. As soon as we get information Minawa, we'll let you know. For now, they're being tight lipped. I think they're afraid that Nakamura might have his hand in this" Because he's one of the known temporal manipulators. "Maybe you're chasing after him"

"Not all Japanese people know each other." That's ~racist~! Nobara rolls his eyes halfway, but soon after he laughs to himself, and provides an alternative. "Or maybe I'm helping. You never know. Maybe it is evil future me. But I don't have a goatee in that picture, so bets are off."

"If I meet any Nakamuras for lunch, I'll let you know."

"No, all Japanese people might not. But there's only so many Temporal manipulators capable of messing with time, and we need to ensure as much as possible from then, changes" Because bad shit happens, when shit doesn't stay the same. "I have other assignments to hand out. Don't talk to" He juts his head at the desk before Muni starts to head for the door.

"Of course, sir." Nobara lifts his fingers to his lips and mimes a zipper across them, tossing away the invisible key over one shoulder, and turning his chair into a slow spin with the opposite heel. Won't talk to a soul, unless he is asked about it. Blessedly, he knows duty from desire, when it comes to classified material.

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