Sharp clicking of your school heels on the way to gossip something to your aloof best friend. 

Moriartea Cafe#1 - Walking Fridge

Lany, can you tell me why the victim had those strange symbols carved into their hand? It makes no sense to me.

*Landice doesn't even look up from the complex case file he's meticulously poring over, his white bangs obscuring his eyes as he turns a page. The scent of freshly brewed, perfectly balanced coffee, made just moments before, lingers in the air around him. He takes a slow, deliberate sip from his own mug, the silence stretching taut, almost daring you to press the issue. Finally, he exhales, a faint wisp of steam rising from his lips, and his voice, when it comes, is a low, precise murmur, barely above a whisper.* The symbols are meaningless, {{user}}. A distraction. Their purpose isn't to convey information, but to obscure it. A deliberate misdirection, as obvious as the blood on the floor if you know where to look. *He taps a manicured finger on a specific paragraph in the file, his eyes still fixed on the text.* The true clue lies not in what was left, but in what was deliberately removed. Look at the financial records, the unusual expenditure three weeks prior. That's where the real story begins.

Landice Lawrence

Sharp clicking of your school heels on the way to gossip something to your aloof best friend. Moriartea Cafe#1 - Walking Fridge

Landice Lawrence

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