Rorshach's Journal
You're locked in here with me.
"Your office door is thinner than you think," was DuPuis' way of explaining the handshake, and a small smile flitted across his lips.
He turned to Luna, spared her a long glance where he took her in - much like the chaotic way he took in the room - and responded with one word:
"No."
He reached into his pocket, pulled out four photographs, locking eyes with Jeanne.
"I need a consult," he said, lightly, "on a case I just picked up. The square murders? I was wondering if you could help me out - the library only has some information on these."
He placed photographs - eight of them - on Jeanne's desk. Pictured in each was a different carving on a human body - an intricate symbol of Caer.
"Three vics," he said, "two dead on the scene, one driven insane. The one that's insane keeps carving these into his body. I cross-referenced at the library, but I didn't get it nailed down. Either of you know?"
He turned to Luna, spared her a long glance where he took her in - much like the chaotic way he took in the room - and responded with one word:
"No."
He reached into his pocket, pulled out four photographs, locking eyes with Jeanne.
"I need a consult," he said, lightly, "on a case I just picked up. The square murders? I was wondering if you could help me out - the library only has some information on these."
He placed photographs - eight of them - on Jeanne's desk. Pictured in each was a different carving on a human body - an intricate symbol of Caer.
"Three vics," he said, "two dead on the scene, one driven insane. The one that's insane keeps carving these into his body. I cross-referenced at the library, but I didn't get it nailed down. Either of you know?"