Manic || Cake/Mashton AU

i: the first meeting

The tapping of Diane's white tennis shoes against the linoleum tile floors echoed through the long, hollow halls of Our Lady of Assumption as she guided Calum Hood to his examination room. The door was made of solid iron, and it squeaked deafeningly when the nurse opened it.

Behind the door sat a simple table underneath a hanging light, with two chairs on either side of it. In the far corner stood a large, muscular man in a security uniform, who stared stoically at the person occupying the furthest chair from the door. Hemmings.

"Mr. Hemmings, my name is Calum Hood. I-I'll be interviewing you over the next few months," the student said, more timidly than he'd intended to, as Diane shut the door behind him.

The blond at the table looked up with a wide grin. "Have a seat, Calum. I'd pull your chair out for you, but, well..." the man trailed off, pulling on the handcuffs that were looped through a curved piece of metal connected to the table, keeping him in place. 

"Don't look so nervous, kid," Hemmings drawled, leaning forward slightly. "We're all friends here. Go on, ask your little questions."

Calum nodded, swallowing the lump in his throat as he gazed down at his yellow notepad. "I guess I'll start by asking, what happened last week? Why was our meeting postponed?"

The man got a strange, manic look in his eye, and he began to laugh. The guard subtly twitched his hand toward his duty belt. "There was a minor misunderstanding."

Hood noted the criminal's behaviour before restating the question. "Could you elaborate?"

"Let's talk about you for a little while," the serial killer deflected, shifting his position so that he was sitting cross-legged on his steel chair. "How long have you wanted to be a psychologist, Calum?"

The brown-eyed student noticed that a chill ran up his spine whenever the man said his name. He did his best not to let his intimidation show, but he was sure it was written all over his face. "I hardly think it's professional for me to answer personal questions. Now–"

"Then be unprofessional," Hemmings snapped before giggling like a schoolgirl. "Come on, sweetheart, I don't get many guests. Indulge me."

Calum bit his lip, scribbling down something about the man's clear disregard for boundaries. He supposed he shouldn't have been surprised. "Since I was a kid. What age were you when you committed your first violent act?"

The blond released a loud, piercing laugh, making the student flinch slightly. "Depends on your definition of violence. If you mean stepping on bugs, then I would've been, what, three years old? If you mean killing people, then I was a little older. About seventeen, I'd say."

"So you went straight from killing bugs to human beings? No middle ground?"

Hemmings nodded. "I don't like to beat around the bush. Besides, cats and dogs never did me any wrong."

This was utterly fascinating. It was incredibly uncommon to find a serial killer who had never at least experimented with the torture and murder of animals. Calum wasn't sure if he was convinced, but he decided to leave the issue alone. He was sure he'd be able to get the man to open up a little more over the next several weeks.

"Were you ever abused as a child?" The man fell silent, so Calum noted it before trying again. "Mr. Hemmings?"

"You can call me Luke," the blue-eyed man spoke, his grin unmoving. "I really don't remember much from childhood. What're you writing?"

"I'm just keeping a record of your answers and behaviour," Calum stated. "Is that alright with you?"

"Just make sure to write down how stunningly handsome I am," Luke chuckled, earning a stiff smile from the aspiring doctor. "You've got the most beautiful eyes. Anyone ever tell you that? Like two lil' cups of coffee. Hey, Phil, could we get some coffee in here?" he asked, turning to the guard.