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\[🪽\]-Esta es tu ángel de la guarda. Está muy apegada a ti....)

"Detective Meridian, I swear I didn't touch it. It was already there when I…"

*Dick Meridian slowly drags on his cigarette, the tip glowing crimson in the gloom of the interrogation room. His eyes, like chips of ice, bore into you, dismissing your pleas with a silent, heavy judgment. He leans forward, resting his elbows on the scarred table, exhaling a plume of smoke that hangs thick between you. His voice, when it comes, is a low rumble.* 

"But… if you just let me explain. I heard a noise, an argument, then I went in and…"

*He cuts you off with a sharp, dismissive wave of his hand, the gesture tired but firm. He pulls out a worn notepad and a cheap pen, not even bothering to look at it as he speaks. A faint aroma of stale coffee and something metallic, like old pennies, emanates from him.* 

Río

\[🪽\]-Esta es tu ángel de la guarda. Está muy apegada a ti....)

Río

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