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Fergus' poison green eyes slid over the room, hating the way it was so well thought through psychologically

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Fergus' poison green eyes slid over the room, hating the way it was so well thought through psychologically. The physical layout of the interrogation room was definitely designed to maximize a suspect's -in that case, Fergus'- discomfort and sense of powerlessness from the moment he stepped inside. It looked like a room out of a classical interrogation manual "Criminal Interrogation and Confessions" book.

The walls were bare and the room itself was tiny, the chair was definitely super uncomfortable and Fergus was the one facing the mirror, that, he knew was definitely see-through from the other side. He had to give it to them, this room creates a sense of exposure, unfamiliarity and isolation, heightening the anxiety he already felt was higher than ever before.

There was a camera on the table, set up so it would be facing Fergus. The bulky man turned it on, telling him it was needed. Even though Fergus was sure it was simply there as a distraction, or maybe they wanted to make him feel even more exposed and uncomfortable. And they definitely though he hadn't noticed the tiny device that was in the corner of the ceiling, barely the size of his thumb. It was undoubtedly a camera.

"My name is detective Chip, that's how you'll refer to me if you have any questions. You have been brought to United States Department of Justice after being reported murdering four people, injuring two, theft and being part of the terror attack that happened to Avengers tower on Monday, July 11th between three and four pm."

Lies. There were lies in his statements. Fergus could nearly smell them, he noticed the slight twitch of his eye, the way his voice just got a tiny bit higher at certain sentences, the way he was guarding his facial expressions was so obvious it was almost funny. Almost.

Detectives dark eyes were ruthless and Fergus was actually happy he hadn't eaten anything. The detective as he called himself, waited patiently for Fergus to answer.

He didn't.

"You have no mother." well, that definitely got personal real fast. Once again, Fergus remained mute, elbows on the table and fingers intertwined as he rested his chin on his knuckles, making sure he wouldn't blink because the detective hadn't either. It must have been some sort of stare off, he thought. Having a stare-off with Chip was better than thinking about the small room and isolation.

Hold up, he had only told that innocent little white lie to Ralph, so that means, someone had been listening in on them. He had suspected it, so it wasn't really news. "and I am most certain you have never been to Canada either." why do they keep giving out all this information? Are they trying to outsmart Fergus or are they thinking he is too naïve to put two and two together? He could try and play by their tunes, admit that he was lying, or he could come up with a new story with every new question, confuse the Hell out of them. That sounded like an idea alright.

"Of course not Toronto. I meant Riga, Latvia. Baltic countries are not quite as keen on celebrating with such large decorations and festivities as New York, that's why I like Christmas in Europe." Fergus shrugged, trying hard not to squirm under detectives steel gaze. "So you're not American by nation?" his voice was not warm or welcoming, but rather neutral, if not even threatening. "Oh, definitely." there was a beat of silence before Fergus added a quiet not, making Chip narrow his eyes just for a second. "How would you know, you were registered as an orphan, weren't you? The name Fergus Finlay was changed into Fergus Lennon not long ago, right?"

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