Alfred F. Jones.
The name of my new and obnoxious roommate.
Apparently in times like this, finding a roommate who is willing to allow a foreign British gentleman as a worthy candidate is scarce. I was turned down by loads of people who were, like me, trying to find a roommate. Was it my hair? My inability to cook properly? My occupation? Even a Canadian rejected me!
Who cares about them anyways. I laugh in their face for their ignorant minds. They'll rue not accepting me as a roommate. I'm a highly intelligent detective who has the capability to protect them if something ever goes wrong. And solve their murder if they die. Two wonderful traits anyone would want in the person sleeping in the room beside them.
Well, I suppose none of that matters now. Those little buggers are gone and here I am with Mr. Jones.
After I left the Canadian's residence, he bumped into me in the hallway (just like how every bloody American seems to do with me). Golden blond hair cut short up his neck. A small cowlick on the right front side of his face that resembled very much like a moon crescent. Brilliant blue eyes that, if looked closely, appeared like the vast ocean. A lean body build and young face that gave up he was in his early 20s. It turns out he was a college student majoring in health. His old roommate left when he moved back home to Japan so he, like me, was in need of finding someone; except for his reasons it was for sharing the bills.
He asked if I needed a place. I, reluctantly, agreed and that was that. No interview, no background check. He accepted me in a second. It was odd, I have to admit. However, I was desperate for a room and I was not about to sleep outside in the chilly, noisy New York City.
It didn't take me long to get to know him better for he nearly shoved his life story in my ears the moment I stepped foot into the apartment. Even now as I write this, he's yammering about how 'awesome' it is to have a roommate from out of the country. Informing him that I was also a detective only fueled his non stop chatter.
God, he's so bloody annoying... Getting work done here is going to be a nightmare. I need full-on concentration when deducing a case and that can not be fulfilled with a loud mouth American in the room right beside me—
The words skidded messily to the side, drawing a dark line from the word 'me'
It turns out his place is one of the cheaper ones and there is no spare room. We have to share a bedroom together. Alfred, an obnoxious man with no intellectual knowledge of organization, and I, an extremely neat and reserved person who values privacy above many things, sharing a bloody room together.
Allistar, if you ever get your hands on this journal and read these, I hate you.
I have to end this here. The nuisance is trying to read what I'm writing.
-A. Kirkland