Cirque Du Noir

Pilot | V

Pilot | V

She could see that he was baffled.

The cross expression on his visage only displayed that all too well as she glanced over at him through the glass. Grace had decided to take on the task of interrogating Darien, the man they’d taken from the warehouse, and had been pacing the room like a predatory animal for the last five minutes. If this had been meant to be some form of intimidation, it didn’t seem to be working on the ghoul cuffed to the table. His eyes were lidded with boredom, and he seemed more so antsy to get up and move than to spill whatever information he had.

This was trying at her patience, this whole process. Bambi had to sit back and watch while the information festered in her informant like a stagnant pond. Sucking in a breath, she tapped her fingers against her arms in an attempt to placate herself, to no avail. Forcing her eyes closed, she felt her limbs and fingers twitch in a need to get in there. Of course, it won out.

Moving as if on auto-pilot, she was in the interrogation room before she realized she was moving. You could say that this where the trouble began because Darien the Ghoul perked up at her arrival, a smug look on his face like he’d found the secret to escaping. Which, in a sense, he had found.

He’d figured it out—partly.

“I know you,” he stated when Bambi had burst into the room, “Yeah, I do. It was bothering the fuck out of me for some time, but I know you.” His smirk at the moment was infuriating, but Bambi was more concerned about what he would say about her.

“Do they even know what you’ve done?” His voice was filled with wonder and amusement, a mocking light in his eyes as he cast his gaze between Grace and Bambi.

She could feel the slow turn of Grace’s head towards her, and she knew. Oh, she knew. This had been part of the plan. He’d been listening to Darien’s thoughts. He’d been working over what he would say if she ever busted into the room like she had done so not five minutes before. While neither of the two had the gruesome details—the stories of her exploits were only ever true to those who first heard it, but watered down over the course of each retelling—she couldn’t help but think that Grace now saw her a little more differently.

She’d already felt that barb of indifference towards her being from him with the overtones of intense curiosity as to what would make her join the force, but it was something different. It was almost like he was meeting her for the first time. Bambi could see it in his eyes from the corner of her own, and decided to roll with it.

She couldn’t be his friend, and she never intended to.

Watching Darien’s show of childish triumph set Grace’s gears back in motion and Bambi was in the clear for the time being. She’d probably be interrogated later on by the telepath, and maybe his league of invasive cohorts. She took a step back, letting the mask of calm that she’d put up slither into a grave expression.

“You don’t put people on something this serious without knowing something about them,” Grace chided lightly, clicking his tongue, “I’d be more concerned about you than about what you think you know about us.” He paused for a beat before lowering himself into the chair opposite Darien at the metal table gingerly and folding his fingers. He moved slowly, like he was afraid of breaking, but with some sort of twisted notion that might have been downright frightening if not for the clipped chuckle he broke into shortly after.

“Do you want something to drink? I can have Medusus bring in something,” Grace pedaled on, “I’m sure you’re very thirsty. You see, you’re sitting so close to your main source of nourishment. Slosh, shish. You can hear the blood pumping through my veins, but you can’t even reach it. You shackled to that side of the table and—oh, boy—you must be so inexplicably thirsty.”

Of course the ghoul was thirsty. It was a known side effect that she’d seen in work. If they exerted themselves or got excited over something without having eaten recently, they developed a thirst for blood not unlike the way an alcoholic craved a good shot of liquor. The poor ghoul had done just that with announcing his finding, and Bambi could see the color drip slowly out of Darien’s face as each word of Grace’s observation struck him.

“The only problem is,” the telepath began after a moment of letting his previous words sit in,” The only problem is that you not ever take another sip of whatever it is you want, because I can assure you, Medusus isn’t too keen on your kind.”

Darien gave an incredulous snort, but was otherwise silent for a time. Grace tipped his head to the side—a curiously bird-like motion—and just watched. The ghoul squirmed ever so slightly in his seat, as if more peeved with being started at so closely than the thought of being poisoned. Which, considering, was exceptionally odd, but somewhat important to getting him to speak.

Grace spent a few more seconds squinting and widening his eyes—enough to give Darien the creeps—and finally the ghoul spoke again. Only, the words that left his lips didn’t quite match what the pair of investigators wanted to hear.

“How can you stand her? She reeks, the kind of reeking that reminds you of just how evil she is. Even I would feel terrified around her.”

While deep, deep down she was somewhat flattered by his assertion of her basic nefarious being, it was entirely detrimental to her already confusing relationship with her partner. A quick glance to the telepathic man made her shudder, seeing the same darkness dwelling within his eyes. The tight smile on his face looked as tense as he was, and he was standing once more.

“I don’t think you want to be here for this,” he stated calmly, his back to her.

Bambi, perplexed and curious, simply nodded and exited the room. He must have had something clever planned to extract information from him, but she could have sworn she’d heard retched screaming from her desk.

// yo, it's been a while, but here's an update. Hope you enjoy it ^-^