Thread: It's All Relative (Monster Teeth and Verse)

Ingram reached for the back of his head and lowered his gaze at her compliment. He'd not done anything different to his disguise today than last time. With some effort he was able to call upon a blush. The Razor case had been gruesome, and the surrounding press had really wanted it to be a serial, but there had been no similar murders since. Just a little to wet his pallet, and some trust while he flexed his skills in the field. All to elevate Lexi to the new hope of the police. She followed the link well. It was good to see that the potential he'd detected in her hadn't gone wasted, mulling over the obstacles of the Creator murder. To celebrate their new partnership he would graduate from event to serial. That's why you're going to solve this case and not them. A daring darkness danced on the tips of his smile then, pupils flashing swirls of depth to accentuate the promise. The forms under the Razor file were standard. He'd prepared a drivers license and a passport to identify himself with, all in the bag that had carried his laptop. With a pencil he already set on the table, he started filling it out without so much as a glance on the questions. It was much more curious to him what she might have found. A car went by outside when she revealed having leads that hadn't been shared with anyone. The sound of the motor ushered in shadow in the otherwise idyllic eatery. With his all-encompassing malice sewn into his angel skin, he might very well reveal himself to be a monster in the short heartbeat that the noon light was absent. How did he look then? Like a misplaced gargoyle with feather pen, doing some poor souls undoing with a blood-fresh contract? It didn't matter. The shine of midday would return to cast doubt on any such suspicion and superstition. Oh? he said as the last of the honest night flicked away from the corner of his lashes. It would be much like a white-bellied sheep asking a gray-bellied sheep if he'd heard the tale of a wolf in sheep's clothing. A last period sign on vital information, the stab of the pen final in it's nature and sound. Terminal. Now you've got me curious, Morrer. Shortly his bleached eyes looked down, lips pursed. He blew on the paper once, a habit he'd retained from when his family had just bought a first generation ink-printer, before he looked at her again, slowly lifting the document and handing it to her over the table. Her self doubt lead him to a crossroad. Her intellect could very well be his undoing. At the same time, he had no intention of discounting her real discoveries this early in the scheme. How devastating it could be to his own ego, if the she could drown his watertight plans already. Don't second guess. We're just colleagues sharing thoughts. he reminded as he reached back. If she knew what he was, she might be worried for her life, but all that the unraveling fingers showed her when the hand returned was a photograph of him, that she could use for his id-card. It would be trouble to follow her around without it, after all. He smirked. Can I meet Mariah, you think? How old is she now? Oh yes. The younger Morrer had a very vital role to play. He best get charming with her soon. Poor thing, playing second fiddle to her sister at the end game of her life. But also a nice little note, he thought himself, that they'd be joined by fate. He noticed Alexandria's green eyes fill with slight worry at their surrounding, and swiftly tipped his palm to free it of the picture to grasp her hand, which was still putting papers down, and caress her knuckles with his thumb. It's alright, Lexi. No one's listening to us.