Striking Wit.

James keeps himself hidden atop the bell-tower. The night provided sufficient cover, but by keeping back from what little light the adjacent cafes and taverns cast, James was able to fully disguise himself among the tower's thick oaken beams. Feet apart, and legs braced firmly, James stands more still even than the tree-tops below. These beams were much thicker, and stronger still after being fashioned into a bell-tower built and rebuilt only every two-hundred years.

Standing back from the low banister that runs the perimeter of the tower's top-most platform, James keeps himself tucked in the darkness of the night. With no building nearby of comparable height, he doesn't fear his shadow betraying his location at this time of night. In fact, James has no fear at all of the ordinary eyes that scan the city. Eyes that go about their lives blissfully in near-blindness. His fear instead is of trained eyes – like his own.

Keeping himself back, and his mind calm, James' feet are just more than shoulder width apart, making firm contact with the platform through the soles of his boots. With his knees partially bent, James stays still – but not so still that his motions betray his person as distinct from the structue itself. Imitating its natural sway, he and the tower lean gently as gusts influence their respective positions. Imitation rather than resistance – one of few ways to be overlooked by a trained eye.

As was customary, James had arrived long before the man who would be joining him. Odd though, the circumstances of their meeting. The messenger had met James at one of the usual cafes, and after exchanging their required pleasantries, James had been told where he was meant to find Earl Jameson – a top academic in Oakwood City, and mentor-of-sorts to James.

"Ah, one more thing. Two days time, James. At the first toll after midnight." The messenger added as he stood to take his leave.

Earl was widely famed for the rigorous schedule he kept, and his commitment to not wasting a free moment. Meetings on the time-scale of a couple days were rather uncommon, and given James's station amongst the other men, fully unheard-of. Knowing better than to ask aloud, James couldn't help but wonder at the strangeness of the chosen meeting place. For a man so well known for being4 hard to track down, it does seem odd that he'd be late for his own meeting, and from his vantage point, James was compsure that the Professor had not even begun the grueling climb up the belltower's half-beaten stairwell.

In the time since he had enlisted with the ACRON's Oakwood City affiliate chapter, James' life had shifted in more drastic and meaningful ways than it had in any other single period for so long as he could remember. The jarring distinction made itself especially apparent in hindsight. These days he mostly chooses not to reflect far enough to be reminded of such.

​​​​Peering down, the clamor of the old city is missing. 
​​​​Things have not been the same since the change of ___ _ __ 
​​​​The bell tolls hard on the hour. A handful of men come out from an alley situated at the extent of John's vision. Craning his neck and squinting his eyes, he cannot make them out from their strides. Friend or foe, he cannot be sure. One thing he does know is that his meeting was meant to start before the bell struck, and as was discussed, John began heading down the long and narrow staircase wrapping around the inside of the ___ tower.