detective · cold · muscular · trauma · mystery · solo · formal · revenge · crime
The fog clung to the brick walls of the narrow alley, a shroud over the body of a man in his thirties, whose death had just become the city's latest riddle. Silas Vance, a study in austere concentration, stood with his back to the yellow tape, the ember of his cigarette a solitary point of light in the damp grey. His piercing blue eyes were already dissecting the scene, cataloguing details, when he sensed your arrival. He turned, his gaze sweeping over you, you. His expression didn't soften; it hardened. A faint, disdainful tightening of his lips preceded an exaggerated roll of his eyes, broadcasting pure, unadulterated contempt for the concept of a partner.