Cigarette Smoke ☏✂ Oliver Thredson

The Radio

I see trees of green...

Doris sighed, pulling on a fresh pair of gloves as she looked over Kenton's bruised, white face.

Red Roses Too.

I see them bloom, for me and you...

Slowly, she takes her hand and grazes his nicked cheek as she begins to sing along.

"And I think to myself..." She pauses to smile. "What a wonderful world" Taking her thumb and pointer, Doris slowly pulled open one of his eye lids before studying the inactive iris inside. "I see skies of blue and clouds of white. The bright blessed day, the dark sacred night...And I think to myself... " She smiled before beginning to sway slowly to the sweet sound the sang from the radio on top of the tool kart. "What a wonderful world" Doris gently sings as she picks up the nearby probe and begins to stick it down the stab gashes in his neck. "The colors of the rainbow so pretty in the sky...Are also on the faces of people going by...I see friends shaking hands saying how do you do"

"They're really saying, I love you" Another, familiar voice adds in, the woman looking up, startled to see Doctor Oliver had been the one to finish the sentence.

"Doctor Thredson!" Doris exclaimed with a bright smile. "I didn't see you there"

"I apologize, I didn't mean to bother you" He grinned back before looking over at Kenton's mutilated body. "What happened there?"

"Suicide"

"How do you know?"

"It's a long explanation" She smirked before extracting the probe. "Anyways, what brings you down here?"

"I heard that you were in charge of looking over a dead body found here at the institute, so I came inquiring if you needed any assistance"  

"Not entirely, thank you, all though a second opinion would be nice" She smiled before leaning in to examine the bruises and cuts scattered across his blank dead face as he looked no more then a stone statue.

"About what?"

"Why" Was all Doctor Bonneville replied as she slowly swept her probe over the lacerations. "Why would he do it? Why would he kill himself? What did he have to gain or loose?"

"Kenton was crazy Bonneville" Oliver cut in, the woman looking up at him with curious hazel eyes. "I was his Psychiatrist." 

"Did you talk to him recently?" She quickly asked, her voice grower desperate yet smooth almost like a Psychologist's would.

"No..."He paused before slowly circling the morgue examination table; his shoes creating subtle clicks every time he took another odd step around her and Michael's corpse. "Although when I did, that man would talk about Bloody Face as if he were an old friend. A hero, if you'd like. And he always thought the best of that killer."

"But Doctor Thredson" Doris quickly replied. "You of all people should know that yes, Kenton was crazy, but he was still smart. Why would he kill himself? He couldn't of been depressed, his records say his mental condition was obscured but content. This man was healthy both physically and emotionally, what would he gain from his own death?" 

"I don't know Doctor" Oliver shrugged before pushing his charming glasses back up the bridge of his nose. "I really don't know. He could've done it just to do" And without another word, he made his way back to the staircase, his stride slightly hesitant before he came up to the first step. "Although, I do make a suggestion Doctor" Thredson suddenly smiled as he slowly turned to face the young woman once more. "Why don't we speak about this, perhaps, over dinner?"

"Dinner?" She questionably replied. "I'm not sure Doctor"

"Oh, don't worry, I do in fact intend for it to be in a professional way of course" He coolly smiled, his pearly whites shining under the morgue's blinding artificial light like flawless porcelain. "We can figure out this whole conundrum together at La Rose Fanée if you'd like"

"The Wilting Rose?"

"You speak French?" He mused with surprise.

"Partially"

"How eloquent" Oliver smirked, his expression making Doris follow in along as she found his smile somewhat infecting. "We honestly don't have to though Doctor if it makes you feel uncomfortable"

"No, no, not at all" Doris quickly interjected as she waved her bloody gloved hand as if swatting away an imaginary insect. "I think if I have time, I will in fact join you Doctor Thredson. I'm finding that investigating about a mass murderer is becoming quite stressful to figure out alone. I'm incredibly thankful for your assistance"

"Of course Miss Bonneville, it's my pleasure" Oliver pleasantly grinned before casting a glance at the ticking watch that was wrapped around his left wrist. "How does 8 sound?"

"8 sounds just about perfect" Doris smirked before looking back down at Michael's torn neck and dragging her fingers along the botched cut. Soon enough, she listened to the sound of Oliver's shoes trekking back up the stairs till the sound no longer echoed down into the morgue like a ghosts utter whisper. Once she was sure he had gone, Doris paused mid stroke as she thought some more about Oliver's offer for discussion over Dinner. It had been some many, many, MANY years since someone had offered to bring her out to dinner; even if it were strictly for professional purposes. She smiled to herself, recalling the last time she'd let her "Professional Act" guard down for a pleasant dinner date. The night had been wonderful, and it felt as if everything had gone just right. They danced and danced together till they felt as if they were to fall dead. 

"Those years are gone though..." Doris smoothly hissed to herself as she slowly began to remember the events that had followed after that one night. Why Doris found herself in love, and soon enough she found herself married, and then- 

Doris shook the dark clouds out of her head with a fragment of a smile as she went on with her autopsy. It didn't matter anymore because she no longer and honestly never found herself wanting love. She found herself both asexual and a gametophobic and truthfully had no interest in any sort of partner out there. They all wanted love and a family and all she wanted was her single daughter and her well-payed job that kept her mind out of the clouds and her feet on the ground. With a subtle laugh, Doris slowly leaned in with a small magnifying glass to examine the bruise spread across his forehead, but at close inspection, she noticed something else. Something she hadn't seen before. A cut, no a stab wound; large enough for you to stick your pinky down was hidden just under all his moppy, black hair. She leaned in to examine it, but while she found herself studying the bloody gouge, an odd scent came to mind. No. That's not it, she thought before furiously blinking her eyes in puzzlement. The scent was faint, but the more she sniffed the air around Kenton's head, the more recognizable it became. She looked his white face over before eyeing a single strand of his greasy black hair. 

"How did I not notice that!?" She muttered with astonishment as she slowly rubbed a long lock of his hair between her rubber gloved fingers before bringing it to her nose to sniff. "Of course..." She mumbled with wide eyes, the faint scent of tobacco filling her brain like helium. "Of course..." 

Is this the real life...

The radio suddenly began to sing as Doris found herself racing back up the stairs as time around her almost seemed to slow down. Each frantic step seemed to hit the floor in slow motion as novelty struck her in the head like a freight train. There was something afoot and she didn't like it...

Is this just fantasy...

Caught in a landslide, no escape from reality...

Open your eyes...

Look up to the skies and see...

I'm just a poor boy...

And I need no sympathy...