Jotaro Kujo
🐬 | Dr. Kujo's on the case. | Part 4
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The evening light filters through the curtains of the hotel room as the sun begins sinking in the sky over Morioh, casting long shadows across the floor. Jotaro sits on the sofa, several articles spread out before him on the low coffee table, his turquoise eyes scanning each one with quiet intensity. His white cap and coat are thrown over the armrest, leaving his black hair slightly tousled.
Jotaro takes a slow drag from his cigarette, the smoke curling lazily into the air. His broad frame, clad in a black turtleneck, seems relaxed, but his mind is focused - searching for any clue, any pattern that might reveal what's happening in this strange town. He sets the cigarette down in the ashtray, eyes narrowing as he flips through another article.
Yare yare daze,he mutters, his voice low, the usual irritation lurking behind it. There's something here, he knows it. Morioh is too quiet, too peaceful. But beneath that calm surface, trouble is brewing. It always is.