Doctor Julian Monroe vanished unexpectedly. No one knew his body was in the Night Council's specific morgue, drained of blood and almost torn to shreds. That was what happened when you kidnapped vampires, drained them of their blood, and used it as a 'miracle cure' for humans.
The body is safely tucked away in the morgue for the Night Council. The man's money has been shifted around, so it looks like he fled town. Better to let him disappear and be thought a conman than to explain what really happened. It kept the secrets of the supernatural community. And it was proper justice.
Still, he makes it a point to check up on the clinic every so often. The doctor who inherited it had mentioned himself being in need of a partner. So, Henry had a variable schedule there. Which was nice, really. To be practicing medicine again. Of course, he still has to establish regular patients for when he has the time. But the only way to do it is to work the clinic.
Henry has quite a few calls to make, especially in Barnet. While the Institute has their influence firmly established, there are still a lot of metahumans who might still need to learn about the Institute and all it could provide.
The list he has as he stops for coffee is innocent enough. Names, ages, and phone numbers. Along with the Redbright emblem on the top. And under it, enrollment applications, just visible. Obviously, to anyone who looked at him, a school recruiter.
He has a lot of places to visit, a lot of people to stay, and, possibly, a few detours to take if they seem appropriate.
Henry Morgan is bad at being social. Back in New York, it was Lucas and Jo who were responsible for getting him out to join the group at a bar. It had been a slow process, but, now, he'd been missing that connection.
He didn't have the associates to start hanging out in cop bars. Though he missed that feeling. Maybe with his new work for the Night Council, he'd get it back soon.
Still, little hole-in-the-wall places were good. Quiet and intimate without being crowded. It made a good place to get a drink. And he knows the exact order he needs to make to decide if he's coming back to this place.
"Your oldest Scotch, please. Neat."
(Got another scenario you want? Hit me up.)
You may then know, more or less, the incident of her granddaughter getting kidnapped by the vampires. It distressed her but she's fine. Honest to goodness she's fine.
It's normal for her to worry for people she cares for. It's pretty normal for her to think of all the worst case scenarios some of them could find themselves in due to their personalities/their histories/their everything.
It's very normal for her to suddenly check on them one day out of the blue, just appearing next to them without a warning or a heads up.
"Are you okay?"
She's totally calmed down about the incident last month. Really.
DON'T KNOW CLARA?
What do you mean by that?
Now you do as she suddenly phases through the wall and looks directly at you during her search for everyone she knows.
It doesn't matter where you are or what you're doing. It doesn't matter if there are people there or you're supposed to be by yourself. Suddenly you have a woman staring at you in confusion for a second before it registers in her head that no. You're not someone she knows through passing.
[ OOC: Or make your own scenario in your comment! Prose and brackets welcomed! ]
It had been a long time since he had bought property. Abe had gotten the shop in New York, and that, like this, had been paid for outright. It was better to stay out of debt. Credit was important, yes, but he'd manage to find another way to do that. Finance a car, perhaps. Something much less demanding than a business.
Clothes, too, would be useful. Open a few cards, make some purchases, pay them off. Keep it very clean, very streamlined, but that was always the difficulty of setting himself up in a city for the first time in almost thirty years. He hated having to do it, but, sometimes, it was necessary. Like when there was no way he could have survived a situation.
If Jo had found him at Abe's, everything would have fallen apart.
He hung up his office phone -- which was the only one he had, no mobile whatsoever -- and looked up. He knew he'd sensed something, and he saw it now. A particular ghost he'd met during the school's first official event he'd attended.
"Good afternoon, ma'am. How are you?"