((Aaand Leoben is in play! Like Kara, he is completely AU from BSG. You can see his info for this universe in his profile.))Leoben Conoy, it was said, had an nose for information. No one ever knew how he knew what he knew, but he always did, he always saw, even the things that no one was meant to see. He saw more than he told anyone he did. But
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So if this guy was just messing around with him, then he would not be pleased.
He was even less impressed when he saw that the guy was in cuffs. "You wanna talk? Talk," he ordered, without introducing himself. He didn't feel the need to show anything either.
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He held up his cuffed hands and flashed a momentary smile. "I've always felt that it's harder to talk with these on. It distracts me. Clouds my memory." His cool eyes said everything he wasn't going to put into words between them: this wasn't an offering; it was an exchange.
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And so he had, though he doubted the killer himself knew it. Leoben saw a lot of things that went on in this city, under everyone elses noses. It wasn't hard when you were a man of God. And when you knew what to look for.
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This wasn't a man who wanted to hear about visions. Very well, Leoben thought. He would see the way in his own time, and when his eyes were open he would regret not understanding sooner. If he had to deal in what the police called 'fact,' he could do that well enough. What he'd seen in the alley, the voice he heard, those were facts he was unlikely to forget any time soon.
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Shaking his head, he recovered and looked back at Welsh. "I'd like these handcuffs off first, Lieutenant. They're very uncomfortable. And I'd prefer to speak to you in private." He nodded to the room at large, and smirked inwardly at the sound of several people suddenly making themselves busier.
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He opened his eyes again, resting his hands complacently in his lap. "But take your time, by all means, Lieutenant. I'm in no hurry."
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Whatever he saw, he seemed to make a decision. He shrugged, mouth quirking, and let the uniform lead him. "Let me know when the next one dies," he offered breezily. "I'll tell you how you could have stopped it."
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Still, he could hardly turn around and tell the Lieutenant just what he'd seen in the alley, not after he'd already refused to. Rolling his eyes, he let himself be taken away. As the uniform pulled him past Welsh, he leaned closer and muttered: "He's looking for storage. I'll tell you that much. He ran out of places to put them."
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