#t002

DURING THE INTERROGATION . . .

{ ✦ } Several items were found missing from THE TRAGEDY's quarters. Did you take anything that belonged to them? Did you see them in possession of anyone else?

Milo processes the list, foot tapping.

"I don't know anything about most of these."

A truth. He had never placed much interest into Vincent's private affects. His eyebrows furrow, trying to recall any of them.

"The last place I saw the watch was…on Vincent, I believe; so if it wasn't there at his death, that may be a good place to start."

A likely assumption. He didn't know it to be true, but he wouldn't be surprised if it was. A small hesitation elapses, the pause stretching for more than a few seconds.

"…the vial, I found. It was lying on a table in the museum—but I don't know who placed it there. I didn't even know it was Vince's."

All true, mostly. This early in the game, it was better to build up a rapport with honesty than it was to try and turn the tables on the masters' heads.

"And I took it, yes. I've been trying to decipher the symbol on the front. No luck as of right now, but…I could always let you know if I find anything."

The offer hangs from his lips, bouncing off a half-raised shoulder. When the other woman betrays her answer, eyes darting to his hands, his pockets—he has to resist the urge to smile.

"Ah…it's not on me, I'm afraid. Apologies." TRUTH.

AFTER THAT NIGHT . . .

torn from the pages of a journal entry of one Milo Foss.

Taking a deep breath, he slowly punched in the numbers on the small flip phone keypad; one by one by one. The phone beeped in elation after each digit, though whether cheering him on or mocking him mercilessly he couldn't tell. Doing this so soon after the game was perhaps a bit…obvious. Quite possibly the most obvious thing he'd done since the Trials had begun. But it didn't much matter. Vincent was dead, and nothing he could say or do was going to change that fact. The least he could do was leave a notice.

The phone beeped shrilly and began to dial. The metal was cold against his ear; despite having sat in his pocket for most of the night, it had been laying in his hand for much more than a little while, exposed to the elements. The earpiece felt loud next to his ear, and he did his best not to wince at every ring of the dial tone, ignoring the way his heart hammered in his chest.

After a few minutes of ringing, the familiar sound of the voicemail began to play. He let out a breath of loose relief, grateful that this wouldn't be quite as hard as he'd been afraid.

"Hello, this is Milo—I'm calling with an…update. Of sorts. It's about your son."

His voice couldn't fail him now.

"There was…an incident on campus."

An accident wasn't accurate enough. An incident at least implied something deeper.

"Vincent was caught up in it and…is no longer with us."

Dead air filled the majority of the remaining time on the recording.

"When you get a chance, feel free to call me back. Or don't. Your decision."