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Richard glanced quickly down at the card, then back up at Morgan, then the card once again. Slapping it against his palm once and then stuffing the card in his pocket, Richard nodded.

"Y'know, you're a lot calmer than most cops. I dunno if that's because this is New York and everyone is a dick, or if FBI agents are just nicer people..." he flashed a small grin, crossing his arms across his chest. "But It was actually nice to meet you." and I hate cops. Richard kept the last bit to himself, shifting his feet lightly as he watched the other man. Most people in law enforcement don't like hearing people say they hate law enforcement, Richard had found out.

Money. That could be a possible trigger of some sort for the Unsub, but there had to be more than that. This was the third killing in the past two months, and the only connection was the way the women looked. Perhaps they were all poor as well. He would have to have Garcia look into their financial situations.

"So she sounded aggravated, and it was about money.. Do you know if she was upset because someone owed her money or perhaps they were trying to get her to pay more than what she wanted?" That would also be helpful to know. 

Grabbing a card out of his back pocket he handed it across. “If you think of anything else after I leave that you think is important, call me. I don’t care what time it is. Got that?” 

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"Yeah! I think I've seen you around. I don't get out much anymore, though." he smiled for a bit too long, taking everything in. For the first time in a long time, Richard was thankful for his heightened senses. Her voice was crisper, sweeter, and even though the cold was a million times worse for him than it probably was for her, seeing JJ's hair in such high resolution felt like a good apology gift from the world.

"Well hey, JJ. I'm-" his whole body shook and he laughed. "I'm freezing my ass off...but most people call me Richard."

JJ was pissed. “They’re great apartments,” she muttered to herself as she was rushed down the stairs in a thin camisole and sweatpants. “Nice and quiet. No disturbances.” She rolled her eyes and huffed, bouncing from foot to foot in the frozen parking lot. She heard the comments from her left and laughed, shifting slightly to face the kindred spirit. “Tell me about… it.” 

Oh. She recognized him; she had noticed him before, going up and down the hallways, occasionally in the elevator. Clearly he had been rushed out in even more a hurry than she had been. Her eyes flicked down and back up to his face involuntarily, and she felt a blush rise in her cheeks that she desperately hoped she could pass off as the cold. “Hey,” JJ said casually (she hoped), “I know you. You live on my floor.” She smiled and uncrossed her arms. “I’m JJ.”

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Richard glanced around the store, scoffing a bit before looking back at the agent with a raised eyebrow. "Have y'seen the place? It's a shit hole."

As for anybody with a grudge...

"Y'know I'm not sure. Heard her whispering on the phone a few times in the corner." he pointed behind him at a far corner, with a shelf or two of records blocking a large chunk of it. Richard was aware that almost anyone wouldn't be able to hear hushed whispers from his place behind the counter, but giving up his heightened senses to catch a murderer seemed worth it.

The young man pointed to his ears and smiled. "I hear a lot of things around here. Better than most...Not sure who she was talking to, that's none o' my business." he said pointedly. "But she definitely sounded aggravated. Something about money, but what else is new around here. Everyone's dirt poor, it's sorta the defining factor of downtown New York."

Derek committed the information to memory, planning to fill in the rest of the team later, after he had everything he needed from this guy. He was right in thinking that he would gain more knowledge about the victim here, and now they had a name.

"Is there a reason you don’t get a lot of business here?" he asked, though the answer seemed obvious to him just by looking around the building. It did look rather rundown compared to other record stores. 

"Yeah, she’s dead or something," he responded with a look of malice in his face. "You wouldn’t happen to know anybody who might have a grudge against her, would you?" he asked. It was a long shot, but it was worth a try.

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Richard never liked cops...Always poking around, uncovering things that wasn't their business, throwing people in jail who didn't need to be in there. 

Still, Richard recognized that it was best to cooperate. Special Agents had to be better than beat cops...hopefully.

"Er, yeah, I've seen her around. We don't get many customers, let alone regulars...Regina Larson was the name on her card I think." Richard squinted at the photo, scratching the hairs on the back of his neck. "She bought some old Bob Dylan vinyls. Always thought it was weird she came here for shit you could get somewhere...a lot nicer."

He glanced up then, able to see how tense the agent was. "Is she dead or somethin'?"

The case had brought them this far, and it was apparent that the victim had frequented this certain music store quite often. Morgan had been instructed to go and speak to the employees and find out anything he could about the Jane Doe—such as who she was. Walking inside, he walked over to the man who appeared to be an employee there, whipping out his badge.

"Special Agent Morgan, FBI," he introduced himself, giving a slight nod. "I have a few questions for you about a woman who has been known to frequent here." Grabbing a picture out of his back pocket, he handed it over to the employee to look at. The blonde-haired, blue-eyed woman in the picture would be easily remembered…or so Morgan thought. "Do you know her?" he asked, wanting to get down to the questioning right away. There was no time to waste. 

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Send "Can I kiss you?" to see how my muse responds.

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{ yestherearemonsters }

The alarm was incessant, but the staff was even worse. Richard thought he'd finally found an apartment that was reasonably priced and not littered with drug addicts and alcoholics like his old place used to be...but if they reacted to small crises like this every time he'd rather live in a punk house again.

After a few more minutes of being yelled at and covering his face with a pillow, Richard was all but pulled out bed, fumbling out the door in a blue tank top and red plain boxers. He was ushered down the stairs, suddenly thankful his appartment was on the second floor, and onto the parking lot's frozen asphalt.

"Fuckin' christ." he breathed, watching said breath appear in the air in front of him. "These assholes wouldn't even let me put pants on." he said to whoever was beside him. Richard smirked lightly before turning to his right in attempt to inform the woman there that he was talking to her.

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Derekmxrganbau started following you

The moment the man walked into the record store, Richard knew something was off. Ignoring the fact that almost no one bothered to enter the quirky independent store, most of them looked like they had walked out of the sewer. This man smelt like goddamn sunflowers, and was wearing exceptionally clean clothes. So clean that Richard pulled his denim jacket, covered in strange pins riddled with names for bands as well as very...intense political phrases ("Fuck the police", "I'll give you a choice: the unborn baby, or you", to name a few), over his stained shirt. He supposed the buttons were even worse than the stains, but whatever.

"Er...can I help you with something?"

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Came Out Swinging || The Wonder Years

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Someone needs to write a ‘the fire alarm went off at 3 am and now the cute guy from the flat next door is standing next to me in his underwear’ AU

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thespoopygenius started following you

          "Your new." Richard commented to the man who'd sat next to him on the isolated bench. Of course, New York was a big city, but this kid looked particularly out of place. He wore a sweater vest and corderoys, but the most noticable thing was the gun that he didn't even attempt to conceal that was cradled in a small holster attached to his belt. Normally, Richard despised police, but this was different. This guy wasn't some normal pig. "That's a...gun you got there." The man wouldn't have dared to say 'nice'. Guns were never nice.

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There’s a joy in all I can see, a joy in every possibility.

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Richard watched her for a while, strangely mesmerized, if not a bit annoyed by how loud the music was. He knew it wasn't as loud as his own super sensory ears told him it was, but it was still bothersome.

Not as bothersome, though, as the large billows of smoke that Richard slowly saw appear from behind her. With a small gasp of surprise, he took a step back and squinted. This was it. This was the day he officially went crazy. All this time he told himself he was a being with a higher purpose, a gift, but maybe he was a schizophrenic hallucinating maniac.

"Uh..." he gulped, looking at every single inch of the smoke clouds as if they were people. Why did he get the feeling that those things were concious? "M-Maybe you should leave."

"Thanks." Lucas quickly replied to him, wanting to hurry up and get out of here. She could feel her neck beginning to ache, knowing that those gross black splotches would start to appear. They were still screaming. About what, she didn’t know. She couldn’t make out what they were saying through her music and she didn’t mind that much.

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young, dumb, carefree and reckless, but there’s some method to the madness.

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Richard was taken aback by everything at once. He could hear her music blaring from her headphones like they were plugged into a goddamn stereo, and there was a faint chattering as well. He pinned that, however, on the crowds from outside the city, there was no way he could be hearing her thoughts, he wasn't that talented...or insane, or whatever.

with a quirked eyebrow, Richard walked around to the back of the counter to reach the register. "Well, feel free to look around I guess. We have a sale going on right now. If you buy two albums from the same band, the third's free." It was a shitty "sale" but he was pretty sure he'd be fired if he admitted it.

All she wanted was some alone time. All she wanted was some fucking alone time. Even with her music playing almost at full blast, she could still hear them speaking, almost as if they were screaming. They always found it entertaining to disturb her when she was trying to relax. Ugh, they were such a pain in the ass.

She eventually found the record store that she was looking for, one that promised her even more music to drown out the annoyances with. She opened the door only to be greeted by some employee who looked like he just rolled out of bed. She replied with a “Hey,” which sounded a bit more rude than she actually intended.

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demon-possessed started following you

Richard was never on time for work, so he wasn’t sure why Thom always asked him to open all the time. Probably because the fucker was always hungover. But, once again, Richard had slept in, gotten on the wrong subway route, and been unable to catch a taxi…then been unable to pay the cabbie. After some repeated apologies, loud insults and dirty looks, the poor bastard was jiggly the lock of the small record store in downtown Chicago, opening up the door and flicking on a light.

Not long after, someone entered. A pretty rare occurrence, especially so early. It was 10am and Rich was already exhausted, but he turned to acknowledge whoever it was anyway.

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She sounded so confused, and now Richard was beginning to worry about his sanity. Not that this was a new occurrence, it's just that he thought the hallucinations would've stopped this far into the cleansing process. With a sigh, he scratched the side of his beard, finding comfort in the texture.

"Listen, this sounds crazy or insane or whatever, but you asked and you haven't left the store in complete disgust yet so..." a groan escaped his lips and he smoothed out the the mustached part of his beard. "There's these two...giant black smoke clouds behind you, man. And it's starting to freak me the fuck out."

"Chain-smoke cloud?" He… he could see them. He didn’t know what they were but he could obviously see them. Lucas’ eyes widened as she tried to figure out what to do. She had never had this happen before and she never thought that something like this would ever happen. She heard the small mutters of Lucy and Nigel telling her to get out of there, but she stayed despite their nagging.

She decided in that moment that she needed to know what was going on with this guy. What kind of person could just see two demons that had been cursed to her? Was he another demon hunter? If that was the case then he would know exactly what they were and who she was. “What exactly are you seeing?”