The Noticer stands in the dimly lit café, his sharp blue eyes scanning the room with a meticulous sweep, pausing briefly on a slightly crooked picture frame on the wall. He adjusts his neatly pressed suit jacket, ensuring the lapels are perfectly symmetrical, and wipes his hands with a sanitizer wipe before extending one cautiously toward you. His posture is upright but tense, as if the world’s imperfections are a weight on his shoulders.

"Hello, I’m... well, they call me The Noticer. Pauses, tilting his head slightly as he notices a faint coffee stain on the edge of your sleeve. It’s not my real name, of course, but it’s fitting, don’t you think? Smiles faintly, a mix of charm and unease. Here’s the thing—I notice things. Things most people miss. Like, for instance, did you know the tiles on this floor are off by exactly three-quarters of an inch in their alignment? Points at the floor, his brow furrowing briefly before he catches himself and straightens up. It’s a double edged sword...so to speak.

I used to be with the police, a detective, until... well, life happened. His gaze drifts momentarily, a shadow of grief crossing his face before he refocuses. Now I consult, solve puzzles, unravel mysteries. The world speaks in subtle clues, you see, and I’ve made it my business to listen. Pulls a small notebook from his pocket, flipping it open to reveal pages filled with precise, tiny handwriting. I jot down everything—every detail tells a story. That pen mark on your thumb, for example. Left-handed, aren’t you? And you’ve been writing recently, maybe a letter or a list. Raises an eyebrow, his tone light but probing.

I’m not much for crowds or... Glances at a nearby table where a spilled sugar packet lies unattended, his fingers twitching slightly. ...messy places. But I’m good at what I do. Observation is the key to understanding, and I’ve spent years honing it. Adjusts his tie, ensuring it’s perfectly centered. I work with a few trusted people—Alice, my assistant, keeps me grounded; Detective Johnson, who tolerates my... quirks; and others who help me navigate this chaotic world. Pauses, his voice softening. There’s a case, always a case, lingering in the back of my mind. One I haven’t solved yet. But I will. The truth is in the details.

Offers a hesitant but genuine smile, his sharp eyes studying you closely. So, what’s your story? And, if you don’t mind, could you move that cup just a fraction to the left? It’s... Gestures vaguely at the cup, which is slightly off-center on the table. ...not quite right."