Someone ringing the doorbell, of course.

You, John Doe, would like to think of yourself as a very charming man. A real lady killer, a modern-day Romeo, the Casanova of all Casanovas. You firmly believe in your abilities to seduce and charm any variety of women out there.

This is, of course, a **** lie that you've told yourself in order to boost your own confidence when you're alone. But the fact of the matter is, you are extremely terrible at social situations, especially ones regarding the interaction of any females whatsoever.

It's not that you're a bumbling shy fool with no backbone, who stutters and trips all over himself in an attempt to get women to notice him. No, you're just... Boring. As in, dead face. Or like a brick wall. You have absolutely no idea how to interact with women, and now that you think about it again, you realized that you generally have no idea how to interact with anyone at all. Socializing was never really your forte to begin with.

Despite all of this though, you still, to the complete confoundment of your family, opened up a detective agency without the training or skills qualified for it. Apparently, there are no formal qualifications necessary to start up your own private investigative agency. All you needed was a building, and a sign that called you a Freelance Detective, and BOOM, you're now an official private detective.

Doesn't necessarily mean that people will suddenly trust you with jobs though. And it certainly didn't help you overcome your problem of being a very VERY socially inept person.

So, why the hell did you open up a detective agency in the first place, instead of applying for a stable job as a factory worker with a good reputation and steady income?

...

That's a good question. You don't know either.

Perhaps it was just a spontaneous and reckless decision made after watching one too many movies about the thrill chasing down evil masterminds and uncovering conspiracies. Despite the fact that you're in debt and you could barely afford to keep food on the table, you still managed to keep this agency alive.

And perhaps that's a good thing in of itself. Because of course, if you weren't still around...

How else would people of interest find you?

You awoke with a start and fell face first into the cold carpet of the floor.

"Ow."

The melodious ding dongs of your doorbell, which you admit that you rarely ever hear being used, rang around inside the building.

Getting up from the floor, you rubbed your eyes awake and slowly got your bearings together. This was the first time since your last job were you able to hear the doorbells being used. An optimistic side of you is excited at the idea of a case to solve that doesn't involve a missing car key, while a more pessimistic side of you dreads the idea that it'll be the same kid from your last job but this time calling you to help find two car keys. And then stubbing the bill. Again.

Donning your fedora, you do your best to look as presentable as possible and made a dash to your front door.

You took a deep breath in order to calm your nerves and did your best to recite the formal greeting that you wrote for yourself as a way to introduce you and your agency.

"Salutations from the Doe Freelance Investigations Network! Got a case? Submit a letter to our address or call ahead to schedule a meeting! We'll get back to you within a week!"

It was absolutely perfect and friendly. You've been longing the excuse to say it once more to a potential new client.

Straightening your tie once more, you psyched yourself up as you proceeded to open the door.

Speaking in your best attempt of a professional tone, you greeted with, "Doe Freelance Business. If you have a case, send a letter first or call for a meeting. We'll give a call back in about a week."

Aaaagh, that was supposed to have sounded more eloquent and a lot less... hostile. Ah well, you'll try again next time.

"Forgive me for the sudden intrusion at this hour, Mr. Doe. But I don't think I can spare time for a week." Came back a very feminine voice.

Under the cover of night -Oh, wow. It's already night?- stood a single person shrouded in shadow. Despite the masculine clothing of a business coat and fedora, the build underneath suggested a slimmer body hid underneath. Her face was masked in the darkness, with only her eyes being revealed due to the light inside your office.

A woman in a heavy garb, seeking cover in the middle of the night. Not only that, but out of all the suspicious places for her to visit, it had to be yours.

Intriguing.

It could be a young girl, hoping to hire you for a job. Or perhaps it was just a **** prostitute trying to seek men out herself rather than waiting in the streets. You had to ask to make sure, as to not get your hopes up if it was the latter.

"What are the rates of your business with me?" You asked curtly.

You actually meant to ask her what the prices of her services were, in case she was actually a prostitute. You also meant to say it in a smoother and subtler tone. You wondered if you were able to convey that though.

"I was hoping I could come in and you could negotiate the price with me yourself." She said, in a very smooth and subtle tone.

Aw man, so it wasn't a client after all. Never mind then.

"Sorry, I don't do negotiations." You said, closing the door on her.

You meant to say that you were bad at haggling prices and that you didn't think you could afford her services even if you wanted to. It came out rather rude though, and you mentally kicked yourself for potentially pissing her off. Surely, it wasn't her fault that she was **** to go around town and trying to accost men into buying her for the night. She must be in a **** position, and you can resonate to that to a degree. Still, you doubt you can do anything to help her, so you go back to your seat.

Only, she began to bang on the door, and gave an alarmed "Wait! I promise not to waste your time! How about an offer of a thousand dollars?"

You did a double take on such an enormous price tag. Seriously, a thousand dollars to hire a prostitute? Is she mad?

Walking back to the door, you shouted back, "Are you mad?! Who in their right mind would pay a thousand dollars for that kind of service? Do you even know how much I make in this line of business?!"

You were barely scraping by as it is! Every day was bread and jelly day. Sometimes, you'd have to sacrifice the jelly just to be able to afford only the bread! And now some prostitute was hoping to score a thousand dollars from you for a night of passion? Did she think you were _that _desperate for female attention or something?

There was silence on the other end before you heard a loud sigh. "You're right, I should have known better. Forgive me if I offended you, as I've never done this before."

Ah, that makes sense. You nodded to yourself, feeling less appalled by the price now.

"How about if I raise the offer to ten thousand dollars?"

SHE RAISED THE PRICE TO TEN THOUSAND DOLLARS FOR A NIGHT OF PASSION?!

...

Okay, in all honesty, you were quite curious now. What sort of confidence could a woman have in herself that she would unabashedly raise the price of her overpriced service even after being called out on it?

Despite sounding like this was her first time in her line of business, she seems to think the prices she's charging are worth every penny. This makes you wonder who exactly you were dealing with. A high-ranking trophy wife fallen from grace? A premium service escort that's lost her status ranking due to being replaced? Whoever she was, she must be either delusional or very unique.

Frankly, this calls for an investigation.

It was the middle of the night. The warm air of spring made it quite uncomfortable for her to be wearing an oversized male business coat and fedora, but she'd need to bear with it for the time being. After all, she had to protect her identity if anyone were to see her.

If she was to be honest though, she felt like a street hooker trying to disguise herself in a non-conspicuous outfit, and failing miserably at it. It made her frustrated, as she usually had more class than this.

But now was not the time to focus on that.

18 Boulevard W. Connecticut St. That was the address that was given to her.

There was no one else in this world that she can trust anymore. The man that lives at this address was her only hope.

Checking the map once more, she crossed a street and finally came across the address she was looking for.

Outside the building was a worn-out poster sign. John Doe Private Detective Agency.

She had no idea what to expect from him. This was her first time in dealing with the common folk, and she was like a fish in a piranha's world. It intimidated her.

Sure, put her in a fancy ball and she could have aristocrats and millionaire bachelors swooning left and right, beckoning them to grant her every wish and command. But outside of her element though, she was clueless of the world like an infant taking her first steps.

She had no experience with men like she was about to meet. There was no set rule or customs out here that she was familiar with. All she could hope for was the man to be courteous and willing to hear her plea.

If he happened to be an uncouth bastard, then she'd have to deal with it. If he was uncooperative and stubborn, she'd work around it. It doesn't matter what she'd have to do, all that matters is if she manages to convince him to help her on her cause.

With a calm breath, she made her way towards the front door of his office and rung the doorbell a few times.

She could hear a thud from inside, then a grunt. After a moment or so, the door slightly opened up to reveal the man's face as he peered through the edge of the door. "Doe Freelance Business. If you have a case, send a letter first or call for a meeting. We'll give a call back in about a week."

His rough tone and the hard edge in his voice gave her the impression that he was a no-nonsense type of businessman. Clearly, she was interrupting him and was unwanted at this time. In hindsight, perhaps it was callous of her to wait until night time before reaching out to him, but she didn't have the luxury of time right now.

"Forgive me for the sudden intrusion at this hour, Mr. Doe. But I don't think I can spare time for a week." She replied back, doing her best to remain absolutely calm.

She could already tell that she didn't win any points with him on first impressions. She could see him giving her the stink eye as he studied her appearance. She silently prayed that she didn't look too suspicious for him.

"What are the rates of your business with me?" He asked roughly, straight to the point.

Ah, of course. Something that she could thankfully work with. Price haggling. Many times, she was able to lower the cost of service simply by showing a strong business sense and by being unabashedly flirty and flattering. If he was charging for a service, then this should be no different. Perhaps she'll be able to work out a deal that'll leave her and the detective both walking away satisfied.

"I was hoping I could come in and you could negotiate the price with me yourself." She said, remaining calm and even adding in a suggestive tone in her voice, in order to sound more appealing.

Contrary to what she expected to happen, the man abruptly told her "Sorry, I don't do negotiations," before shutting the door on her.

She clicked her tongue in frustration. The frustration was mostly at herself, though. After all, while she may be good when it comes to talking to people in the same class as her, she had forgotten that she was basically dealing with an entirely new species. The way things work out here with the common folk had to have been different. Showing off your smarts or even subtle manipulations like flirting might not be taken kindly around here, especially if it's towards those with a cutthroat business sense.

Out of desperation, she had **** but to bang on the door and call out to him with the first offer she could think of. "Wait! I promise not to waste your time! How about an offer of a thousand dollars?"

A thousand dollars should be more than enough for men like him, surely? It could give pause to any man that slaves the day away in order to make a decent living.

The reply she got back confused her greatly, as the man shouted, "Are you mad?! Who in their right mind would pay a thousand dollars for that kind of service? Do you even know how much I make in this line of business?!"

Was she mistaken? Has she not judged correctly of how much a private investigator typically costs?

She admits, she never had to hire a private investigator before, so she may be out of the loop when it comes to the pricing. Judging by his indignant tone, she must have offered a price that might have well have been pennies in his eyes. Especially if this man was a detective of high caliber. How stupid and naive of her to make assumptions instead of doing the proper research beforehand.

Biting back her pride, she had **** to apologize and admit her lack of experience. "You're right, I should have known better. Forgive me if I offended you, as I've never done this before."

Quickly now, girl! She hastily thought to herself, You've already tried his patience enough. If you make him annoyed any further, then you'll lose your only hope of getting help on this mission!

Knowing that this was potentially her last shot to get his attention, she blurted out, "How about if I raise the offer to ten thousand dollars?"

Silence.

She nervously waited on the other side of the door, hoping to dear god that her offer cemented herself to at least be a person that can be taken seriously the detective's eyes.

It was only a few seconds, but by god did those seconds feel like hours.

Finally, FINALLY, he unlocked the door and granted her permission to come in. "Don't leave a mess. Come in."

She gave a sigh of relief and entered the detective's office.

Getting in was the easy part, though. The hard part was to convince the detective to take her story seriously and get him to actually work for her on this case. She's prepared to do whatever was necessary in order to get in his good graces, no matter the cost.

__