It was the smell of embalming fluid that dominated, though an errant hint of lilac drifted from the skinny suited man across the table from Veladrys. The undercover cop’s interviewer was wrapped eyebrows to wrists in bandages. His voice was powder. “Before we proceed to a tour of the facilities, there is one last question. I see you have claimed military experience. Have you ever been in a firefight involving a vehicle?”
Veladrys - or rather, Vincent - tugged at the cuff of his sleeve to adjust it as he listened to the dead man. His own visage was pale, with barely sunken eyes and cheeks, the look of a rather freshly dead man. His platinum hair was slicked back, and he wore a crisp, clean suit with a cobalt blue tie and gold cuffs. “I have,” he responded, his own tone smooth and confident. “Shot a guy right between the eyes going ninety down the freeway.” Okay, actually, it’d been some criminal’s tire during a car chase, but it was still pretty impressive.
