#detective patrick

Progress has been slow and Dirk’s learned far more about his brother than about being dead. Like the fact he lives in a condemned warehouse, or that all of his friends apparently hate him, or that he was known as a Madman long before he ever reached Everlock. Pretty much everything Dirk’s borne witness to so far has been somewhat of a wake-up call, and nothing more so than Lucas’s collapse.

For a brief second, as he saw his brother drop to the ground, Dirk felt panic. Short, sharp, like a stab to the chest. Nothing had come of that moment but it’s the first thing he’d felt since his death, and it’s all he can feel right now.

In a dark room that unfortunately seems likely to be his brother’s bedroom, Dirk is pacing back and forth, watching over the unmoving form of his brother laid out on a poor excuse of a single bed. The panic isn’t currently sharp or choking, more like a steady undercurrent of anxiety sitting low in his chest and despite the unpleasantness of it, the fact he’s feeling anything is kind of a relief.

The doctor and the blind man had spent a long time looking over Lucas but now they were gone and the last twenty minutes have been Dirk speaking aloud nearly every thought that passes through his head. No one can hear him, Natemare’s with the group. Apparently they’re deciding what to do with the mechanical man, which leaves the dead man alone and unseen in the room with his unconscious brother.

“You know,” Dirk eventually offers, “I think that blind man could see me.”

There’s no response, but he’s starting to get used to the silence.

“I know, I know,” he answers, waving a hand dismissively at the imagined response, “But I swear, he kept looking at me.”

Not untrue, the Host having repeatedly glanced over to the corner which Dirk had retreated to during the assessment. Except he obviously didn’t see anything. For one, he’s blind, and for two, he’s living. Still, the ever inquisitiveness of Dirk’s mind coupled with the tingle of anxiety coursing through him helps to mould a mystery out of the mayhem.

His pacing stops and he turns, frowning at his brother. “Well you’re the idiot who lives in a warehouse.”

Still nothing, but Dirk frowns, crossing his arms and tapping his foot.

“I’m not responsible for your poor life choices.”

Silence.

“Well that’s hardly my fault I-”

“You’re doing it again.” Natemare is suddenly stood beside him, also watching Lucas, face surprisingly calm. The meeting must be over.

“I am not.” Dirk protests, gesturing to his brother, “Lucas is the one….on the bed...unconscious… Ah.”

“Don’t sweat it,” Natemare places a reassuring hand on the detective’s shoulder as Dirk tries not to face palm, “the death crazies hit everyone weird.”