Snapped In The City of Love

4

Darcy had a sneer on her face upon smelling the disinfectant that ravenged the hospital in all of it's gross glory, her black shoes made tap sounds as she walked through the halls, searching for a certain room.

Ludwig Beilschmidt's to be exact.
She needed to question him and his Italian lover, Feliciano about what they had seen or heard.

She knocked on the door of the hospital room, only to have the aforementioned Italian open it up, giving a tired smile, slight bags under his honey colored eyes from lack of sleep.

"Ciao, ragazza." He says, "What brings-a you here?" He quirks a brow.

In response, in the calmest, least monotonous voice she could muster, Darcy said: "I'm here to ask you guys questions about the case? Is it alright if I come in?"

"Ja." The bedridden German called, while Italy ushered in the introverted coroner.

"So...The questions I'm asking relate to the case. If you get uncomfortable at any point, let me know, and I'll cease questioning. Got it?" Darcy says in her monotone voice, earning a nod from the two in the room.

"Alright. Did you hear anything when the first shots were fired? In Italian, or see anything that was out of the ordinary, like Alfred's cowlick?"She asks, adding the last part to lighten the mood in the room, while she was looking to the two, tapping her pen softly on her arm, making dull thwack sounds.

"Ja." The blond German pipes up, shifting his weight on the hospital bed slightly. "Italian. Sounded something like uscire dalla strada maledetta." He says, butchering the Italian, leaving Feliciano to chuckle slightly.

Darcy looked over to Feliciano for translation.

"Uscire dalla strada maledetta means 'Get out of the Damn way'." He explains, while Darcy scribbled it down on her arm, in her messy, almost illegible writing.

"I didn't do it, I swear." Feli said, his voice riddled with fear, and sheer disbelief.

"I never said you did." Darcy hastily replies, looking to Feli, her gray eyes meeting his amber colored ones. "Trust me, I'd be more confrontational than Alfred during The Superbowl."

That earned a soft laugh from the worried Italian, while Darcy gave a soft cheeky grin, her eyes glinting with childish mischief.

"One more thing. What happened after the shots went off?" She asks quietly, as if shying away from the question, since the metaphorical wounds were still fresh and bleeding from the incident. "Like did you see anyone fleeing the scene?"

"Ja." Ludwig nods. "I don't remember where they were. All I heard were frantic footsteps and the sound of cracking glass from the sidewalk." He explained, shifting a bit.

"Alright." Darcy hastily replied, scribbling the information down on her arm in a messy way that was seemingly a combination

of cursive and print, and seemingly illegible to anyone but the one who had wrote the handwriting themselves. "Thank you for your time. I'll let you two rest now." the raven haired coroner said, spinning on her heel with a 'fwish' sound, and walking out of the hospital room.

No sooner than when Darcy had shut the door to Ludwig's hospital room, her phone had buzzed in her pocket; playing the annoying 'And his name is John Cena!' ring tone, earning unamused stares from the nurses that surrounded her. She gave a sheepish grin, before pulling her phone out of her pocket. Staring at the text, which was from the violet haired lead Coroner; Anneta.

-Check this out.- The text read, with a picture of a 3 mm tumor on which looked like a steel surface of either a table, or one of the desks in the office.