*it's all painted quite artfully in large letters on the largest blank wall available, in a ruddy brown ink, which on closer inspection is not ink at all, but rather blood
( Read more... )
*would, I'm sure, be pleased that she got to contribute to such a touching memento... were she not dead. And, for that matter, she wouldn't be pleased to contribute to anything that wasn't hers anyway, so.... whatever. But awwwwwwwwww. And that was the typist*
Hawkeye can't read the poem but he recognizes writing when he sees, and for that matter, he recoginizes blood, too. As writing is a white man's gift and using it to make images and the like on things....isn't....he stares at it, slightly bewildered, and maybe a little horrified, though that doesn't show.
Typist: And now I am le tired of the first-person. :(
"Interesting welcome for a blood splatter expert," Dexter mused out loud, remembering to add a tinge of digust and 'at least I've seen worse' to his voice that most Miami cops had. It wasn't a serial killer, he could tell, which left him uninterested in the source of the body. The blood and the poem was clearly what mattered, not the body or the process.
This was the work of an expert, obviously, but not the sort of expert that interested him.
*looks at Dexter and points at the poem* Wasn't me. I mean, not that you'd think it was, but I'm just saying. Not me. *wrinkles his nose and inspects it closer* Man, that's nasty. What do you make of it, lawman?
T: Sweeney's decided he really wants to pester Dexter, sorry.
"It's not really my area of expertise," Dexter explains, and it really isn't, no matter how you look at it. He is currently going into forensic geek mode, though. "I deal with blood splatters, but this-- this is the opposite, actually. The blood's printed in neat penmanship, which shows that he wasn't in any sort of hurry when he did this. Either this place is really easy on criminals or he's an expert at what he does. Or both."
He stops there, pretending that's all he can figure out from the scene in front of them. After all, he wouldn't want to seem too informed on the subject of psychotic criminals.
Typist: That's okay! I'm using any opportunity I have to play Dexter.
Hmm. *is reasonably impressed* Well, like I said; it's not like we've got so much as a proper drunk tank...
*takes a step back to read* That last bit's Donne. First is some flavor of Cavalier... Jonson, maybe? Who knows. Not the sort of thing you'd expect in big bloody letters, is it? *laughs, then realizes laughter may not be the most appropriate reaction and coughs* Not that you'd expect anything of sort in the first place.
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typist: making him post just so I can applaud the anniversary. Gwendal is grumpy about everything. Don't mind him too much.
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What the--?
Typist: Awwwwww.
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"Interesting welcome for a blood splatter expert," Dexter mused out loud, remembering to add a tinge of digust and 'at least I've seen worse' to his voice that most Miami cops had. It wasn't a serial killer, he could tell, which left him uninterested in the source of the body. The blood and the poem was clearly what mattered, not the body or the process.
This was the work of an expert, obviously, but not the sort of expert that interested him.
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T: Sweeney's decided he really wants to pester Dexter, sorry.
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He stops there, pretending that's all he can figure out from the scene in front of them. After all, he wouldn't want to seem too informed on the subject of psychotic criminals.
Typist: That's okay! I'm using any opportunity I have to play Dexter.
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*takes a step back to read* That last bit's Donne. First is some flavor of Cavalier... Jonson, maybe? Who knows. Not the sort of thing you'd expect in big bloody letters, is it? *laughs, then realizes laughter may not be the most appropriate reaction and coughs* Not that you'd expect anything of sort in the first place.
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