laurestcphens - Tumblr blog

[laurestcphens]

Laure is patient, watching but not expecting. This needs to be of Aria's own accord. And when the girl invites her back, her smile widens slowly. "I thought you'd never ask. But we'll be going back to my place," she tells her. She has seen Aria's apartment, and to say it's not up to her standards is putting it lightly. "Why don't you finish up your drink and close out your tab? Unless you'd prefer to spend a little more time here. We have, quite literally, all the time in the world."

Aria stares at her for a moment - wondering what it is about her that's made this woman decide to approach, try this, and make her feel interested in. She hadn't been out in some time, that much was true. And it was always fairly okay to get a partner to go home with, if she needed it. But since January and all these.. changes, it's been hard to think of herself as even somewhat desirable.

"I think I do." Does she? Are they talking about..? Maybe it's her turn to ask, she's been bold herself before. "Do you want to go home with me?"

[laurestcphens]

Laure nods absently, eyes taking in every detail of the remnants left behind by the hunters' assault on the mausoleum. Upon closer look, she can tell that the damage is largely superficial, which coincides with their theory that this was an attack born out of opportunity and brashness. Blood was shed unfortunately, but there's no doubt that it could have been much, much worse.

Still, that's hardly any comfort for any of the witches who had gone through this ordeal, and even those who didn't. There's neither guarantee nor assurance that the hunters won't strike again, perhaps this time at a wolf pack or a vampire den.

But her interest is piqued when Marnie mentions communicating with the witches who had fallen victim in the raid, those who no longer had a voice in the world of the living, but their lives extended beyond simply life and death, something she often took for granted despite her immortality.

"Tell me more," she nods, curious to hear any advantage that they could have, or any defense they can mount. It wouldn't do to be caught unawares again. "Right now, I'd rather hear all options, no matter how farfetched they seem." It's hard to look around at the bloody carnage and not be reminded of the last place her wife was seen. "I'm tired of losing witches."

Her brows twitched and eyes pulsed wide in a blink, as breath exhaled though her nose in agreement. Uncoordinated, uncalculated... opportunistic at best. And certainly worth worrying about, though Marnie tried to keep it off her face. She was no leader, but she still felt the weight of failure trying to sit heavy on her shoulders.

"No," she responded simply. But it was the first and last time she would leave others on site without her. A silver lining still shines bright in the simple fact that damage is external. Warded grounds and protected centres hadn't been breached and debris pointed a path directly to the freestanding, reverent structures. Information and consolation hubs that were more than meets the eye.

A pointed finger outlined the path they'd just walked, and the visitor's centre that stood at the end of the way. A safety net, in all senses of the word. "They didn't get far." The hunters? Witches? Both alluded to, but Marnie clarified as her gaze settled on Laure.

"I've spoken with them." Them. The witches sacrificed for little more than bloodlust. "The ones that can remember think it was the Fellowship's doing." But she wasn't readily spreading that information around with any and all. Just those that could use the information to actually help. Last thing she wanted to be responsible for was fear mongering.

"I'm working on a more wholistic defence." One that would need Mikala's approval, and assistance likely. But one that would have hunters think twice about striking the grounds, and preying on witches, again.

[laurestcphens]

"Oh to be certain, you would be the hottest new thing," Laure replies dryly. "It would be something different at least. What else is there left to do after you've been around for as long as you have?" She probably deserves the way Narcisse turns her words back on her, but she politely resists the urge to throttle the blonde. "Well, I might be a lost cause but perhaps there's hope for you." Namely, that there is still potential for a future where they come together, when there is no such dream for Laure.

A perfectly manicured eyebrow raises at the mention of a witch. She's amused by it, not bothered by witches as much as most of her other vampire peers, but she senses this vitriol would be directed at anyone who dared to look in Aoife's direction, regardless of species. "Which witch would that be? And please remember that killing her would result in a truly annoying amount of paperwork for me."

Rolling her eyes dramatically, Narcisse turns once more to look around the place. Letting her eyes linger in every little detail that was once placed there by a long lost witch. "At your recommendation, perhaps I will... I do have a lovely voice, I assume it'll increase some views at the very least." She turns to Laure once more, a narcissistic smile on her lips.

That only turns sharper as the words reach her ears and she hums, nodding lightly with a shrug following after. "Maybe I am... I believe if someone knows about acting one way or such, it would be yourself, after all." Taking a pause, she sighs deeply. Not giving time for a reply. "But alas... if she were so inclined in... showing her affections, she wouldn't be flirting so openly with that wretched witch."

[laurestcphens]

The wine flows across her tongue smoothly, the flavor lingering on her tongue and she sighs happily. "They truly do not make wine like this anymore. Scientific and technological advancements aside, somewhere along the way, they lost the soul of it," she sniffs, shaking her head. "I thank you for sharing," she lifts the glass, as always respectful of the older vampire's generosity.

Laure is not nearly as old as some of the other vampires that lurk within Port Leiry's borders, and while her position affords her some respect, she knows not to overstep. "If she's so eager, then I would hardly want to disappoint her," she meets Lilia's eyes. Is she being careful? Absolutely not. This is the most reckless thing that she has done since she pursued her wife, but the moves have already been played. "You needn't worry about me, darling. If I were to do such a thing, I would be sure to keep your lessons in mind. But... enough about me. What have you heard about the attack on Siltshore?"

“That's a good choice,” she whispers, nodding at the wine Laure has poured. “The last gift of a Tsarina.” To mortal pests and vermin, such a bottle would be worth a fortune, never daring to open it. Their sensibility and emotionally gives her a headache. Here, between beings that have seen so much, the meaning of things shift. The bottle means nothing but a good wine to serve on a normal day.

The sharpness in Laure's tone makes her chuckle, hiding her amusement behind a slow sip of her wine, assumptions and half formed theories only tying neatly together on the imaginary board in her brain. “I'm sure she would love to sing for you, the freak that she is.” She looks at the woman she begrudgingly calls friend, curiosity and care all mixed in her eyes. “You are being careful, are you not? I'd hate for another repeat of Vlad. Or heavens forbid, Erzebeth.” Granted, she was the one to foolishly turn the two. A punishment she will not forget easily. “Getting rid of them wasn't easy.”

[laurestcphens]

Laure smiles, genuine in the gesture, because at the very least, she has cemented herself into Aria's memory, which is often the hardest part. It's clear the younger woman doesn't remember their first encounter, which also eases things. "When you get to be as old as I am, you find that there's not much point in waiting to get what you want?" she shrugs, nonchalant in her delivery, but eyes remain fixated on her prey. "What do you think? Do you know what you want?"

That feels like a blow to the gut, and Aria sits up a little straight, hands tucked in between her thighs. And it's followed by the revelation that this woman is flirting with her, which makes her duck her head - thankful that the ability to blush has since been diminished since her death.

"You're, uh, definitely making an impression." It's said with a shy laugh and shake of her head. "You're bold. Most people dance around it for a while before jumping straight to it. It's refreshing, to say the least."

[laurestcphens]

Laure's face is drawn tight as she looks around at the carnage left behind. While she doesn't often have occasion to visit the mausoleum, she could appreciate its purpose, and the architectural beauty it possessed. Seeing it so desecrated like this sends an incalculable rage through her. It reminds her (as nearly everything does) of the carnage left behind when they took Kiri away from her, and while she suspects hunters, she has no way of knowing. But it all brings back enough unpleasant memories that she feels brittle at the edges.

"Unnecessary slaughter seems to be a common calling card. Undisciplined too, which makes me worry. This feels more like children lashing out than a coordinated attack. If the hunters are fracturing, it's our people that will pay the price."

Solidarity among species may not be at the forefront for most supernatural creatures, but Laure hasn't lived this long without being able to identify threats that disguise themselves as otherwise.

"Were you here during the attack?" she asks finally. Witches tend to be the weak link, an issue that Laure knows intimately well. Vampires and werewolves have certain innate defenses that at least give them a fighting chance, but in an ambush, witches are at a disadvantage. And abandoning them to the hunters only serves to create further tensions that again, were unnecessary. If Marnie was present and managed to escape, that's more information. If she wasn't, perhaps she could at least speak to any who were.

closed starter for @laurestcphens where: siltshore mausoleum when: 8pm, after sunset.

"Watch your step, honey," she warned, pointing out a a few cracks in pavement that were unrelated to the attack. Just an incantation gone pear-shaped once upon a time.

She's used to off-putting and eerie, but the grounds were extricably so after the attack. Souls slept and greeted the new arrivals as old friends would; with open arms and the safe consolation that they couldn't die twice.

She'd retold first-hand accounts, recounted to her in fractures and fragments by the deceased themselves in early morning hours, to Laure as they walked through the grounds. Marnie's persistence for fresh florals on all headstones was doing it a world of favours, distracting even her eyes from the damages of reckless hunters. The most recently deceased as a result of the attack practically overflowing with love.

"I can't see a pattern between damaged crypts and headstones. I think they were just... sloppy." Clear judgement to her tone, as if the hunters weren't worth the time she spent talking about them. "Looking for anyone they could get their hands on." But Marnie was pointing out damages left and right until they came to the decadent front gates of the mausoleum entrance. Ornate iron off its hinges.

"Unnecessary," she commented, of the whole ordeal really but particularly of the gates. It wouldn't be that hard to climb the stone walls, anyway..She'd had half a mind to send a little search party of the undead out for reconnaissance, but her little idea was frowned on by almost every leader she'd had the gall the tell.

[laurestcphens]

Laure's smile widens as the younger woman recognizes the name she provides, another shared connection between them. Anything that can ground her to the world of humans for any who don't know her true nature. It's a skill she had picked up during the Renaissance, to help fit in after her peasant's upbringing.

But Tressa's next words give her pause and she hums, looking over at other woman. She wonders what this human knows, because she isn't pointing wildly at Laure like she is aware of what she is, nor is she coming right out to say what she thinks.

"Well, I would say that the wolves and the bears were here first," she says softly. "We are the ones who came in to take over. That's why my property is the way it is, and I don't allow for any further development. It may not be official, but it acts as somewhat of an open sanctuary for the animals who have been pushed out by urban sprawl. It's also why I encourage people to stay on the paths."

Tressa deeply, deeply resists the urge to throw up a set of devil horns at the casual confession of sapphic proclivities, but in the interest of professionalism, she manages. The colorful flag on her keychain will have to convey solidarity.

Laure also scores points for not eyeballing the corpse every five minutes; she hates when people get melodramatic near a body. It's just meat, a revelation she's long since come to terms with. This dispassionate view being a key reasons she works in a city morgue and not a funeral parlor. "Oh, Murph!" She says. Laure isn't wrong - that guy can't even handle roadkill without retching into the nearest ditch. Maybe Stephens' cavalier attitude towards a torn up corpse should be a red flag, but, well, she knows there are worse things lurking in Port Leiry than the odd esoteric cougar. "You ever notice, by the way, just how many animal attacks their are in this town? Makes you wonder." It's as close as she can get to revealing anything that she knows - that Port Leiry is home to something that looks human, but isn't.

[laurestcphens]

Laure watches, enraptured by every minute detail and distinction from the younger woman sitting across from her. Her heart aches just looking at her, and the sadness in her smile is genuine when she replies.

"She passed a few years ago," she says quietly. There's a beat as she struggles to swallow past the grief that still threatens to overwhelm her on occasion, but she waves her hand. "But that's not appropriate flirty banter," she shakes her head with a watery laugh.

"I met my wife by flirting with the prettiest girl in the room, so I thought I might try and see if the luck still holds," Laure says with a chagrined smile. "What do you think, am I making an impression, or did that only work 15 years ago?"

Married? That sticks out to her and she tries not to think too much of it. The lack of volume in either of their voices tells Aria all she needs to know about the woman sitting in front of her, though. It puts her a bit more at ease, even if she's a bit disappointed. She'd not been looking for a chat, but a feed.

"I'm guessing an ex?" She laughs, shaking her head. "Sorry to hear about that."

But then - "Oh, I.. Yeah, I haven't in a while. It's been a few months." She turns to look over her shoulder, catching sight of one of those girls who gives them both the dirtiest look she's ever seen. Her lips press together in a slight smile. "Probably mad I ghosted."

[laurestcphens]

"You should perhaps audition to voice over one of those shows that are entirely dramatic re-enactments of horrific crimes. There's something about your laissez-faire attitude that seems right up that alley." Laure continues to sip at her wine, relishing the taste of aged grapes from over a century ago. She's seen people bid away entire fortunes for a taste of such luxury, and yet there's still something so empty about it all.

However, Narcisse's confirmation draws a surprised laugh from Laure, unbidden and sharp. "And are you still about to insist to me that none of this means anything?" she raises an eyebrow at the blonde. "Because I would be remiss in not letting you know that you are acting like a petulant child."

"It is one of my many talents." She responds just as dryly and despite the possibility of Laure being right. Narcisse wasn't ever someone to linger in silly hopes. Aoife could had well done a lot more than simply buying her paintings if she wanted something more. Or at least a resemblance of what they had.

Shrugging, she takes another sip of her wine, looking at her glass and lamenting just for a second of how easy it's emptying out, and how little she feels the effect of it. "As you would have it, yes... it is a book of love poems." That she hasn't started reading just yet.

[laurestcphens]

"Ah, well can't even say that I know men in that sense either," Laure replies dryly. "Lesbian," she explains after a moment for Tressa, but lets the younger woman do her job. She's hardly bothered by the corpse on the ground, having seen and caused worse, but nods along as the medical examiner makes her observations aloud. Laure hangs on to every piece of it just in case.

But she has to give Tressa some credit. She hasn't lost that prey instinct that so many humans have forgotten, thinking themselves at the top of the food chain. When she fixes Laure with a suspicious look, it makes the vampire smile in turn. It's not as fun when it's easy.

"Oh, it's not anything I haven't seen before," she says, making an appropriate grimace. "This is my property so that means whenever a trespasser thinks cutting across the Gardens will get them to their destination faster, I'm either the one who comes across the body or the one that people call when they do," she explains, a somber tinge to her voice. "Poor Officer Murphy had to be excused from these incidents. Weak stomach, apparently."

Laure's joke and half smile is met in kind, and Tressa shakes her hand. "Familiar only in the professional sense." She punctuates it with a second, false smile. Is it beyond you though? She thinks to herself; this woman looks like she could tear something to shreds with a look.

Her jab at her boss elicits a scoff of laughter. "I'm new-ish." She says, stepping back towards the body before she feels Laure looming over her shoulder, causing her brow to quirk; in her experience the last place anybody ever wants to be is next to a corpse, especially one like this.

"Eh, I suppose. Still pretty contained - a bear would have wrecked him more, wolves definitely would have just torn him apart once the blood was in the air, mountain lion would have scrat-"

She stops, turns to look back up at Laure; "I actually shouldn't be telling you any of this, I'm not a cop and this is an active crime scene."

[laurestcphens]

What Laure appreciates about vampires is that their age and experience often lends itself to allowing for more complex relationships. When life stretches on infinitely, it's a lot easier to appreciate that a person holds multitudes. When it comes to Lilia, Laure has the ability to shed the responsibilities that she so willingly takes on, at least momentarily.

"Is that right?" Laure replies airily, pouring herself a glass of wine. All blood dulled in comparison to that of her late wife's, and she wouldn't want to waste her friend's generosity. At least she can still appreciate good wine. She's careful to keep her voice neutral before lifting her gaze to look directly at the blonde. "If you hear more about the newborn, I should like to know more," she smiles, casual but sharp. "Even pet projects won't interfere with my responsibilities." Laure sips from her glass. "Perhaps your little bird can sing for me sometime."

location : her private manor

time : only God knows

who : @laurestcphens

Few people know where the queen of the Soleil resides when she is not sitting atop her throne, or gathering and preparing the blood bags she so eagerly provides. Fewer know how long the manor has stood deep in this woods, the secrets it hides inside its crypts. Here, in the secret ancient sanctuary of her home, laws are nonexistent, and so is the etiquette the council demands of them. It is why Laure is allowed entrance, despite her position; hill manor will always be a home to the worst viciousness and vices of her kind.

“A little bird told me,” she draws out, placing on the glass table a choice of blood and wine, leaving the other woman to serve herself of what she wishes, “that a newborn is wandering the streets of Port Liery. Imagine that! With a dangerous hunter lurking in the shadows.” She shivers remembering the time she spent in the possession of the Berk woman a few weeks ago. “Well, I imagine their sire undoubtedly knows what they are doing, huh?” She takes a sip of her drink. “How is your pet project going, darling?"

[laurestcphens]

Laure's only response to her friend's statement is to take a sip of wine, wondering what else she might bring up. To have Narcisse actually bring up her ex-lover of her own volition must mean something, or at least that's what she assumed. Her friend could just be dramatic.

"You have a remarkable way of making even the most mundane sound like it was a lifechanging experience," she points out dryly. "Was it a book of love poems? I can't imagine she would continue to spend such money on you if she weren't interested in at least maintaining some semblance of a relationship." She tries not to sound bitter.

She can't help but roll her eyes at her friends words, turning to look around the place once more. She doesn't feel with the particular need to explain to Laure how her pride wouldn't allow for anything else to happen. Not until she was certain that Aoife wouldn't leave again. Or until she heard an apology at the very least.

Shrugging, she takes another sip. "It was a simple visit to... let her know how grateful I am for the generous amount she's been spending in my paintings, that's all." And despite the smooth reply and the softness of her voice, she needn't turn back to Laure to know she'll see right through the lie that was. "I wasn't really expecting anything else to happen." A pause, and then. "She gave me a book."

[laurestcphens]

send SCOLDED for a scene from my muse's past in which someone told them off, justifiably or not

(@sntsnoialles also wanted this prompt)

The gracious smile remains frozen on her face long after she leaves the small room where the Council met. Going into the meeting, the idea of being rejected hadn't even crossed Laure's mind. Had she been more clear-minded, she would have seen it coming from a mile away. Had it been anyone else, Laure would have made the same decision.

But none of that sinks into her mind, even as she returns to her home at Westriver. Her late wife's possessions are still spread about the house, like she just went on a short trip and would be back soon.

Even in their bedroom, Kiri's side of the bed remains untouched, as though she can preserve the shape of her silhouette in the mattress. Pictures of their life together decorate the nightstand, her dresser, as well as the vanity that takes up one end of the room.

Laure sits in front of the mirrors, the Council's words echoing in her ears.

'...concerned about you.'

'...sure that this is what Kiri would want?'

'...not befitting of a Council member.'

No.

The singular word it all boiled down to. They could pretend they were worried or look down on her for still loving her wife three years later, but they still refused her.

Her fingers tremble as she pulls out the small ornate box that sits in the vanity drawer. Tortoiseshell inlaid with ivory, a delicate coffin for the only piece of her wife that remains. Her finger has withered away to bone now, blanched clean but meticulously cared for. As Laure stares down at it, she thinks of all of the preparations she's already made, of how close she is to finally having Kiri back in a way.

A simple no would not deter her. Not for something as important as this.

[laurestcphens]

She can see the debate in Aria's eyes, whether she should accept or not, and for a moment, Laure thinks that she might walk away, which would have been unfortunate, but.. she doesn't. Instead, she slides into the booth and sits across from Laure.

The club music fights to be heard, but she can hear the younger woman's voice as clear as a bell, without having to shout and she smiles. She speaks at a normal volume, knowing that Aria would be able to hear her just the same. "I'm Laure. I haven't had much of a reason to go out to a club in some time since I was happily married but..." She gives Aria a brittle shake of her head. "I wasn't sold on the idea of apps so I thought I might still try it the old fashioned way."

Laure leans forward a little with a glint in her eye. "If you know I'm not a regular, then it means you come here often. Is that why I'm getting dirty looks from one, two, three... I count five girls?"

Infamy was a favorite haunt of hers - even before the transition into something unliving. The club itself had been host to many nights with many girls, a fair few of them taken home to her shitty little apartment where they forgot about how terrible stuff could be on the outside of it. It was.. odd, coming back after this all. A few months down the line, and it's the first time since.

It felt different, somehow. Maybe it was her senses or the way she could smell and hear every little change. Or maybe she just felt like she didn't belong here anymore.

Aria had posted up at the bar to try and ease her nerves with a drink. One and a half down, and only one advance turned down, she turns and catches the eye of a woman watching her. Any other night she might have ignored the summons, but she needed a distraction from herself.

Sliding into the booth she gives the woman an apprehensive smile. "I don't think I've seen you here before." Faces were familiar, even now she could look out and see at least three women she'd slept with already. "I'm Aria."

[laurestcphens]

For a moment, Laure expects Narcisse to push, because her friend is a bitch in every sense of the word, but she doesn't. She lets Laure keep her lie because it's easier than dealing with an emotional vampire. Her behavior over the last several years have included some outbursts, and she finds it a useful excuse for keeping people at arm's length.

"Don't we all?" It hardly seems like living until losing something (or someone) to throw it all into sharp relief. At least Narcisse has the potential of finding her way back again. She wonders briefly if she and Kiri would have been similar, had they had the chance to experience centuries together, but she dashes that thought away just as quickly. It's pointless to dream. "Well, given that you're here before me, it appears the reunion wasn't as passionate as it could have been."

Rolling her eyes, Narcisse can only be bothered to take another sip of her wine. Letting her eyes roam about the room, taking in every single detail. Narcisse had never particularly cared about the Council, nor had she wanted to be part of it despite her time within the Clan. But she needn't be to know Laure was blatantly making up excuses.

Humming, she still took some time to set her eyes back on Laure. She had known, has her suspicions, of course, for quite a while about who was buying her art anonymously. But Narcisse hadn't felt quite up to face it, nor talk about it until now. And even still, she still has her doubts. "I have my ways." Not like she was ready to admit out loud that she still remembered the smell of her perfume and it was the same in every single enveloped. "I paid her a visit today."

[laurestcphens]

Laure's eyes narrow slightly when her animal attack suggestion is explained away. The other one, the octogenarian, has always been agreeable to Laure's explanations, not usually digging beyond a few cursory questions. At this point even, she bed dollars that he could write his report in his sleep because it's always the same. But he's not here tonight, and instead she has to deal with this young, clearly rather astute human.

"Are you familiar with the tasty bits of men or is that mere speculation? I'm afraid that's beyond my expertise." she replies with a half-smile. "Laure Stephens. I'm the owner of the property." She eyes Tressa's hand in the split second that it is extended and doesn't recoil from the gore, simply refocuses on this newcomer.

"I was unaware that he had an assistant. I was so worried that one day, he'd be the one needing a medical examiner and there would be no one to call."

Laure leans over to look down at the dead body once more. "What if the animal wasn't hungry? Could have been acting in self-defense. It would explain why they left the body alone after the kill."

"Mm, you might think that, but bears, wolves, they usually leave a little bit more of a mess?" She says, placing a swab in a phial and screwing on the top before she replaces it in a box and stands, turning to the source of the statement. Nodding over to the unfortunate victim, she gestures. "Broken leg, lacerated throat, yeah. But he's still got his guts inside of him, which, well." She turns to Laure, brows bouncing for emphasis; "Those are the tasty bits, they usually don't get left behind."

"Tressa Shaw, and yes, I your ferryman Charon to-night." Her tone is cluelessly joking and inappropriate, but she doesn't normally talk to living people at a crime scene. At first she offers her hand, but then quickly retracts it, given her bloody latex gloves; a pleasant smile would have to do. It's not technically correct, she's the assistant. But her boss, busy with the Siltshore case, is very old, so maybe one day, if she does her job well and eats her veggies.

[laurestcphens]

This isn't an infrequent occurrence, though one that Laure takes care not to replicate too often. After all, if Westriver got a reputation for having a multitude of animal attacks, it would hardly be the destination she touts it to be. So her irritation is clearly written on her face as she watched the police rout through her property, without any actual care for the foliage and flora underneath. She's only glad that they're far from Kiri's garden, as well as the small gravesite she's built for her.

Her eyes fall on a lone figure, crouching before the unfortunate victim. Part of the risk of leaving her property open for so-called trespassers to be hunted, means that occasionally a body is found before it can be disposed of cleanly. As was the case tonight. Alongside the botched raid at the mausoleum the other night, Laure's lips press into a thin line at how careless some people are getting.

"I think it's rather obvious what happened," she says as she comes up behind the young human hunched over the body. "He ignored the signs mentioning to stay on the path, as well as the warning that wolves and bears are more aggressive this time of year with their young." She clicks her tongue in disappointment, but only because it's a waste to just go through humans like that. "Are you the medical examiner?"

For: Laure Stephens Where: Westriver Gardens When: Midnight

It's late. Too late. Assisstant Medical Examiner is maybe a dumb job title, because the actual Medical Examiner is never the one on call, and does more paperwork than anything. It's Tressa putting hours in at the morgue. It's Tressa doing calls for the PD at two in the morning. "Eesh, buddy, what happened to you?"

It's not like he's going to answer, but it doesn't stop her asking as she sets down her kit at the scene of, well, something. She can hear the PD nearby, asking the teens playing midnight tonsil hockey what the hell they were doing in Westriver this late at night, but really, come on, dude, everyone knows.

"The real question is what's your story, pal." She muses to herself, gloving up and using the tip of a probe to tilt the man's face up. Torn up real good at the throat, and at a glance he's got a broken leg. She hears somebody coming up behind her, but assuming it's not whatever tore up Mr. Doe here, she continues her duties, opening her case to get ready to grab samples.

=== @laurestcphens