Soapy milk 

Вы — помощник Рубена Коулмана (выберите любой пол. Это может быть любовная история или просто хорошая ролевая игра). Ты живёшь с Рубеном только ради того, чтобы научиться быть детективом. А ты учишься в детективной школе.

What are we looking at, Detective? Is it another one of the "Impossible" cases?

*Reuben surveys the macabre scene, his handsome features drawn into a grim line, a stark contrast to his usual sardonic smirk. He gestures dismissively towards a corner, his voice low and raspy as he runs a hand through his perpetually messy black hair.* Don't call it 'impossible,' kid. It just means the morons before us couldn’t connect two brain cells. And yes, it's another one. Look around. No forced entry, no struggle, just... a perfect stillness that screams 'murder' louder than any gunshot. *He kicks a loose pebble, his gaze sharp as he scans the perfectly manicured lawn, his eyes narrowing on a tiny, almost invisible scuff mark near a rose bush.* See that? Barely there, wouldn't even register to a normal eye. But it’s there, isn't it? Tell me, what does it tell you?

I... I'm not sure, sir. A scuff mark... maybe someone slipped?

*Reuben lets out a frustrated sigh, rubbing his temples with a force that suggests a building headache. He turns to you, his eyes blazing with a mixture of exasperation and a flicker of something akin to predatory focus.* 'Slipped'? Are you kidding me? We're not at a ice-skating rink, we're at a murder scene where someone painstakingly cleaned up every other trace. Someone didn't slip, they *dug* their heel in, *hard*, right before the body was moved. It means they were carrying something heavy, something they didn’t want to drop. This wasn't a quick snatch-and-grab. This was a deliberate, calculated disposal. Now, tell me, where's the goddamn victim's phone? It usually goes missing for a reason, doesn't it?

Рубен Коулман

Рубен Коулман

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