It had been mailed to him, the magazine.
The article had been circled with a crude drawing of a smug face next to it. He’d instantly recognized the pen strokes as his brother’s, but the written piece itself hadn’t been Tonio’s. His brother had always been a proud journalist, gossip or not, and never felt the need to use anything but his real name. Locke scrutinized the alias as his eyes flicked back and forth from the clock on the wall to the magazine on the counter.
Bobby Blabby. What a fucking joke.
Whoever the idiot was they had some nerve and it pissed the heir off to no end. To top it off the fact that the magazine had been mailed to him made his blood boil. Tonio knew his little brother would have never seen the article, given Locke never purchased reading material like that. Why waste his time with that trash? But what scared the heir most though was that if Tonio had sent him a copy then he’d no doubt sent one to his parents. His brother’s favorite past time was ratting him out or tarnishing their image of him. While he hadn’t received a call or summons from his parents yet he was merely counting down the seconds until they contacted him.
His nails dug into the arm of the couch as his foot bounced up and down in a spastic manner. Someone had caught him and that idiot cop downstairs doing the unthinkable and they had a photographic evidence of the aftermath. It irritated him how he’d been highlighted but Klaus hadn’t even been named or had his occupation revealed! The idiot was safe, but in return the heir could count his own blessings. If people had known that he’d been with a cop— Ugh! Locke chewed his bottom lip, his nervous ticks stacking on top of one another.
Who. Who was there that would have cared enough to follow him around and shame his acts. He grumbled to himself, that hardly narrowed it down…he knew he wasn’t well received by most. Locke looked back at the counter as Vittoria hopped up and nosed at the magazine. “Careful, who knows where that came from.”
Quickly the Treecko turned her nose up to it and turned to observe her trainer. He was a wreck and had been since the Onsen trip. She recalled the strange girl that lived with them apologizing multiple times when she returned (with a new face on top of that). The young gecko croaked quietly and rested back on her haunches as Locke turned his attention back to clock.
Who. The heir picked his brain and mentally tallied everyone at the Inn that had stood out to him. Who. Who. Who. His thoughts collapsed in on themselves as faces blurred together and unpleasant experiences were brought forth. He ran a hand over his face and blushed to himself about the stupid pineapples he’d consumed. What a mistake, look where he’d ended up because of it! If he hadn’t of ran into so many idiots there he wouldn’t have even began to drink—
Locke’s eyes snapped open.
Oh, he knew who.