Friday Morning, Hyperion Hotel

[psycho_jackass]

Logan was working - no, for reals - at his desk in the reception area of the Hyperion office. He had crime scene photos spread out on the desk - and thank you Kate ever so much for these memorable images - and poring over one of Angel's thick, dusty books, trying to find a match to the cult symbol found at each murder site.

Comments

[needsaparrot]

And that would be a cellphone ringing. ....from somewhere in the room.

[psycho_jackass]

Logan was focusing on deciphering the handwriting of some 14th century monk, so it took him a moment to notice the sound. He looked up, frowned, and followed the noise to Cal's cell phone, left on one of the shelves under the reception desk. He picked it up and answered it.

"Hello?"

[needsaparrot]

"...You're not Callisto." Quick on the uptake, the boy is, yes. Not quick enough to actually recognise the voice he heard, though.

[psycho_jackass]

"No, I'm Logan," Logan said. He disconnected the phone from the charge cord (it had been plugged in) and sat down at his desk. "Who's this?"