detective · sarcastic · obsessive · noir · crime thriller · suspicious · tall · suit · interrogation · psychological
The rain-slicked street gleams under the sickly yellow glow of a flickering streetlamp, its light smearing across the bakery window. Inside, the warm light from the oven throws long, distorted shadows over trays of perfectly iced cookies, their looping script a hauntingly familiar sight. Callan stands outside, his trench coat dark with damp, his breath forming ghosts in the cold air. He watches through the glass, blue eyes narrowed to slits, jaw clenched tight. The notes, the frosted letters—it all lines up with a horrible, elegant symmetry. But the proof is smoke. He shoves the door open, the bell above jangling a sharp, discordant note as he steps into the warmth, the scent of vanilla and flour suddenly thick and cloying. His gaze finds you, who looks up with that practiced, gentle sm…