#canarystarter

    The mayor walks into a bar. It sounded like the start of a bad joke and felt a lot like one too with Royce eagerly awaiting the punchline. He knew this was a gamble with the odds stacked against him, the town's mayor casually going for a drink in times of tragedy. To him, however, it was so much more than that. A strategic move planned out all things considered. His presence alone was making a statement; that there was nothing to be afraid of, that there was no reason to go into hiding, something he made sure his body langue would convey as he took a seat at the bar. He allowed his eyes to wander for a moment before it came to rest on the person sitting next to him, prompting Royce to do what any good leader of the people would do. “You look stressed. Allow me to buy you a drink?”

Hunter wasn’t made for small towns like this. He was a larger than life person, someone who craved neon lights on a way larger scale than the one on the diner, clubs and cars and people, filthy downtown areas with miles and miles of shady clubs and bars and uptown streets with shops so expensive that only the top ten percent could afford. Instead, he was stuck here, in a tiny hick place, always craving something bigger and better, places where you could get away with navigating the streets with that ‘anyone who doesn’t want to bump into me will move out of the way’ mentality - a concept people here didn’t seem too familiar with. Hunter realized that when he crashed into someone hard, sending him stumbling back with all the grace a drunk baby giraffe before meeting the ground. “God damn, watch where you’re going,” he snapped automatically as he picked himself up and shuffled back to his feet, clearly pissed as if that wasn’t totally his fault.

It had been another long night at the hospital, the stress that came with having a serial killer on the lose definitely driving more people than usual into the emergency room. Of course, Gianna wasn’t going to complain though. A good nurse didn’t complain, she learned and just figured the same applied for nursing assistants. Pulling back the curtain around the ER bed, her expression slipped visibly at the sight of her patient. “Wow, what happened to you?”, forced its way past her lips before she could stop herself (she would blame that on the tiredness and gladly ignore that she had a habit of talking before she slept even if she was less sleep-deprived). It took a second for her to regain her composure, an embarrassed blush tinting her face. “I’m so sorry, that was very unprofessional of me. What I meant to ask is what seems to be the problem?”

     “Thank you for coming.” His hands rested neatly folded on the desk between them, his expression schooled into something professionally stern. “I know this is hard for everyone, but it’s important to get as much information on this as we can.” Gritting his teeth, he flipped open the almost empty case file, feeling already like they were going nowhere with their investigations, having no leads, no witnesses, nothing but the heavy pressure of a town scared to death by the looming threat of a serial killer. He sighed and straightened his back, shoulders broad and steady, an effort to portray the confidence he didn't feel. “Did you know the victim, Tessa Wagner?”