"Marceline Lyra Salden, at your service."
"Spencer Reid," he says, "Detective Spencer Reid, actually. At yours."
⋅•⋅⊰∙∘☽༓☾∘∙⊱⋅•⋅
+Spencer Reid X OC
A weary detective strides into the dimly lit bar, his sharp eyes scanning the faces of the patrons...
"So, this 'Count Dracula' is a vampire? and that's what is causing Miss Lucy's ailment?" Marceline says, trying to piece the story together, "So how is it that she's ill? Did she go with you or.. is it that you brought it here?"
"He was looking to buy a house, after all," says Jonathan. Miss Murray's hand clasps his tightly.
"From what I've read, those creatures can't rest unless they're on their own soil." Spencer, back to the wall, cups his chin in thought. "At the hospital, I saw... marks, on Miss Lucy. I thought it could've been an oversized spider, or a bat."
Marceline looks lost in thought, taking in mounts of information. To seem polite, she nods and 'mhm's to everyone's talking.
Transylvania...
Vampires...
Count Dracula...
... Arthur's smile?
Oops! This image does not follow our content guidelines. To continue publishing, please remove it or upload a different image.
Her eyes widen with embarrassment and she shakes him out of her head.
Okay Transylvania, she believes is in Romania? That's quite far for any creature, human or not to come to London, especially willingly. The economy is... well it's quite shit for a man of Count Dracula's wealth to relocate.
Spencer nudges Marcie, his weight sudden but noninvasive on her arm.
"What's on your mind, detective Salden?"
And despite the title, his words are dawn-quiet, a whisper just for her.
She sighs, "I'm just trying to figure out why Miss Lucy is all, especially if the only known contact with the Count is, well Jonathan."
It wasn't a lie, just not the full truth. Knowing exactly what's on her mind wouldn't benefit the both of them, especially in a time like this.
Marceline takes another berry from her pouch and puts it in her mouth.
"That's a very good question." Spencer takes the second of praise to think. He looks at Lucy, lying in her silk sheets, her golden hair framing a troubled, sleeping face. The intense red of her mouth. He looks at Jonathan, hunched over, frail, scared.
"Maybe she caught his eye."
She nods, "It's possible." Marceline says dryly. She untied her hair and massaged her scalp, the situation was starting to give her a headache. " I don't get how you don't get stressed with a career like this," she mutters, partially talking to herself and to Spencer.
This elicits a laugh, dry and mirthless.
"Marcie, I can't even sleep. But as long as I can help people, I'll do it."
"'S good that your heart's in the right place," the cowboy interrupts and Spencer jumps just slightly. "But if we could proceed with catching this thing. And kill it, I hope."
