Sipping his drink from the soda can he'd gotten, Tristram watches Neo closely, though not obviously. He was upset by the turn of events and everything that had happened, his cheeks still heated and slightly red from all the things that were said and done back at the bar. His fingers tap against the couch cushion that he was sitting on as he observed Neo pull out a cell phone and call someone. Tristram was guessing it was one of the people who Neo had been with when he'd been in that cafe, doing who knows what.<br/><br/>When it was mentioned that Neo had someone who knew about events going on in the city, Tristram looks directly at Neo, his face set, eyebrows furrowed, eyes narrowed, and a pout on his lips. Yes. He was pouting. He'd never had to deal with such an asshole before, well, not to the extreme that Neo was, and he was feeling sorry for himself.<br/><br/>It was then that he noticed that Neo was smoking, and he quickly stands up from the couch, right as Neo was telling whoever he was talking to on the phone that he, Tristram, was still mad. As Neo turns to him saying that his boss wanted to talk to him, Tristram reaches out and snatches the cigarette from Neo's mouth and opens the window tossing it out and closing it again. "No smoking in my room. If you want to smoke, you can go out onto the balcony outside." He says bluntly, before taking the cell phone that was held out to him.<br/><br/>"This is Tristram. Last name non-existant."<br/><br/>He waits for a moment for recognition before continuing talking, watching Neo still, even though he was focusing mainly on the conversation he was having on the phone.<br/><br/>"For the longest time I've felt not all was right with the world. In fact, ever since I was little I've known. It's unfair, unkind, and unjust. Nothing is ever right, even when people say it is. That's just a cover, a fake face to cover the ugly truth, that this world is cruel. And Academy City is no different. It may be more advanced, in many ways, but that only means deeper and darker secrets, and more malevolent truths." He pauses, taking a deep breath. He was risking his safe, comfortable life by speaking of these things. Was that what he wanted? To tear apart what stability he'd pertained, for this? He knew the answer. Something had to be done.<br/><br/>"There is a certain woman who I've been keeping an eye on, who came to the city a bit before you, but she's still quite new here. Her name Mavis Veasey, and is the Head Council Representative of the British Branch in the Council of Rationalism and Philosophy. Something about her is off, and she gives me the same vibe that I get from your...er...<span style="font-style: italic">friend</span>Neo here. And when I say vibe I mean that she's not an Esper, like me, and definitely not just a normal person..." He looks at said Neo, before speaking once more, turning his back on the guy, crossing his arms across his chest while still keeping the cell to his ear.<br/><br/>"She's also a model, but that's mundane information. Her personality is one that demands other's attention, like some kind of war council general, you can't HELP but to notice her. Almost as if she's had the experience of commanding an army or something like that. But that's not all. I've been keeping track of her movements, and it's not all council related<span style="font-style: italic">or</span>side job-related. On certain days, during a specific time, she leaves her place and goes somewhere, usually either by herself or one other person with her. I can't figure out where she goes from there because every time I follow I end up losing her halfway...but that's the strange thing, as I never take my eyes off of her. One moment she's there, the next she's gone. I blink once and it's like she's disappeared."<br/><br/>He stops talking then, realizing that he was going on and on, and so lets the other person on the other end of the call have a chance to talk. Even though he was still a bit tense about this whole situation, he was relieved to have someone to tell these things to, to spill everything he'd been holding in. Someone who was willing to listen.