[Here again. Thankfully, he's human today, much more convenient than his seal form.

The mansion seems less crowded than before, or at least he's running into fewer people than last time. Just his luck. In a form where he can easily interact with humans, but none around to talk to.]

*Heiji's jerks awake instantly, an aura of ~wrongness~ settling on his shoulders like a shroud. He knows right away that this wasn't where he fell asleep, but a quick assessment tells that he wasn't actually moved. Everything he owned was still in place on his person, and certain bits of it were definitely things that scavengers would steal, not to mention the people hunting him.

Some of the residents of the mansion may remember seeing him before, though now he is dressed in mismatched, thrift store layers. They're all easy to move in, some of it cut here or there to be sure of that, but where he came from must have been cold. His knapsack is strapped to his chest, and flattened with a piece of duct tape to keep it from moving. The zipper on it is broken and it's held closed with twine. An empty gun holster peaked out from under his left arm, the gun itself held tightly in hand hidden behind his knees. There's the hint of old scars on what little skin is exposed.

Despite what must have been a very light and interrupted rest, Heiji looks completely alert. He cases the alcove he finds himself in and slowly unfolds himself. This looked...oddly familiar.*

Am I...

*his voice is a little hoarse, but for those who has seen him before, he is looking much less injured. :D*

No, this can't be.

*he moves swiftly through the first door he comes to and turns in place, surveying the lobby with a growing unease.*

Kazuha!

[It's been a while, mansion.

Kaitou KID grins, monocle catching light that isn't there, eyes shadowed by the brim of his hat. He's in a study, one that should have been on the thirtieth or so floor, but is now on the second. There are piles and piles of items scattered through the study, sorted out by owner. Mounds of things that don't belong to him, bowties and wristwatches, loose change and wallets, gems and carved statues.

If you've missed anything recently, if you put something down and lost track of it, it's probably here.]

[Look, it's a Conan!



actually no it's not. Despite the glasses, this particular seven(?)-year-old doesn't quite look like Conan. Maybe it's the messy hair. Maybe it's that he's walking down the hallway on his hands.]

Kenta came through one of the many doors in one of the lower floor corridors, but now he's lost.  He didn't think the place he was in was so big-!

"Hello?  Hello....?"

He'll just keep wandering around and randomly opening doors until he can find someone to tell him what's going on.


[ooc: So, this is Kenta!  As in, from the Knightmare heist.  But he's sort of crossed over with Marvel. :'D  And he needs a tag.]

...And the sound of the violin he picked up can be heard wafting through the halls.

For some reason the music the mansion provided him with isn't even available yet in his time period - he thinks it's just good to play.

Unlike Shinichi, though, he isn't tone deaf, so the piece - from the Shire, the first Lord of the Rings movie - is being played properly.

 [For all the efforts to NOT look suspicious here (he does understand how he... Might look it though), Koji's not doing so hot at the moment.

And that's a REALLY poor choice of words, as can be assumed by the smoke pouring from the cracks of the door he's slammed his back against.]

...I swear this isn't my fault.

[GUILTY UNTIL PROVEN INNOCEN- wait.]

[You can smell smoke.

This is not usually a good development, so it's natural that no matter where you are in the mansion, you'd stop what you're doing and look around. Maybe glance towards the open window and catch sight of a plume of grey smoke in the distance. Glancing out of the window, you can see that there is a small -- shed? shack? At this distance it's hard to tell -- building erected on the lawn.

In front of it a small campfire is burning brightly. There's no sign of anyone tending it. Do you invest--

Sorry. Silly question! Forgot who I was talking to a moment there.

Of course you investigate.]

 There is a wooden figurine of a familiar face somewhere.

Be it a table or just plain lying on the floor.  He's only six inches tall.  And things are a lot bigger when you're that size.

So he's moving.  Attempting to find a safe place.  If such a thing exists.

...Feel free to see him.  Or watch.  Or just plain trip over him.  He's small enough to miss.

 [WHY IS HE HERE AGAIN. And yet not? If anyone even remembers this guy, he looks somehow younger than before; maybe around... 10? 11?

He also just walked out of a broom closet. And for the likes of him, actually looks honestly confused- and lets put together the facts that even non-detectives see.

- Child sized
- Not wearing black
- Genuine expression of confusion that does not at all look malicious.]

...What. [Good question, 'Mini-Gin'.]