Youko Recca
12-06-2004, 06:11 PM
Was going to wait till I had written the entire thing and post all of it at once but I find myself forced to post this as part one of this short story. Hope for feedback and satifaction for readers.
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What a week...what a month....what a year.....what a life......and now it's coming to a close. And though as I sit here and watch my TV, on my deteriorating ass, I can feel no regret. These life and times, these times we live in...are only meant for destruction. Only meant to give humans **** to repeatedly step on. You'd think after time we'd quit caring and just step in manevolent mannerisms, yet we are compelled to grab the brush and scrub that **** off the bottom of our dying feet. Oh man.....this was the worst week of my life....but in truth. In truth through the eyes of a sinner. That sinner I've become. It was so damn perfect........
The compressed, dark room, resting tightly packed on the second floor of this run down apartment. Static buzzing like a bad itch across the eighteen by eighteen inch screen television. This room carries the utensils needed to barely get by. McDonalds wrappers litter the ground, along with empty beer bottles. This man. A conspiricy maker in his own mind. This man looks for reason. And the more he looks the more a completely off-topic subject glooms in overhead, reminding him where he stands. It's enough to drive one insane. Well...almost. You have to find the deep core of the cause first.
Infront of this static rests a man, resting on this three seat couch, which rested on the back of the grainy walls, of which were rested beyond control to be apart of this apartment complex.
"Oh geez....what time is it...ba-"
He stops and jumps to his feet. Oh the inhumanity. Heaven forbid anyone should walk in as this man stands there free with his balls and bat flopping with every slight turn. The real inhumanity though, is what this man's sentence was leading to. "Baby"? Who was this...'baby'? Had he gotten a women pregnant? Oh right, like they deliver within twenty-four hours of planting your seed.
Funny that he can't remember the night before. And why did he feel so damn tired?
Here we go. Wondering off when there are still possibilities. Let's rewind.
"Okay....what time is it?" he walks into the kitchen. Planting sights on the stove's digital clock. "Crap! Nine already? Today is...." he backwalks out from the kitchen opening and returns to the living room. Looking at the calendar, the Playboy one. Hell....the only one.
So as his eyes go from a nicely centered buttocks, to the lying pattern of numerical keeping, he automatically remembers. It's Saturday. Being as Frank-O's special was still alive as an aftertaste in his grasy mouth, it had to be the next day. Saturday.
"Okay...so I can work the second job. Ugh...better get ready."
He walks past the couch that rested infront of static, more importantly, the small tablestand which kept the phone flat on it's surface. The bland, grey telephone, not even cordless. The cords were even in that little swirl. The kind you could run your finger along and feel the fat of your fingertips entering each gap.
In the back area of this small apartment were just the nameless bedroom, and the bathroom. He walks down the dark halls, feeling the red carpet's roughness scrapng against his bare, flat feet. Stopping in the midsection he reaches just below the poster of something, towards the light switch. Flipping it up would be futile, seein as it was already up. So he flips it down only to get no change in atmosphere.
"Oh...right. I forgot to pay the bill...the one for the light. Dammit, my water better still work." he complains as he reaches his right palm out for the closed bedroom's doorknob. And as he hand touches the knob, he quickly finds himself removing his hand and instead going in the bathroom. He doesn't question why he does this, cause deep down he knows he's not ready for what's in there.
As his body turns around to face the inards of the bathroom, the door creaks to a slow close behind him. The toliet is directly across infront of his view, it's the first thing you will notice when entering. on the the toliet's left was the tub with the blue curtains going around in a full circle to close off everyone. And then to this man's right was the sink with the compartment lingering overhead, giving the illusion it was a mirror also. Though "illusion" doesn't really do it justice since...it is also a mirror.
He swings the curtains over and enters, swinging them right back to a close after entrance, gearing to take a shower. He stands in the dirty tub, facing the knobs at his kneelevel. Split second he feels errily sleepy and closes his eyes. Then seconds later his eyes jump open. Ignoring that little occurence he snaps into the out of it. He twists the left one all the way to it's right, he doesn't like hot showers, so this was means for a cold shower. Hopefully it could wake him up and open up his brain as to what happened these last couple days.
Like a pumped up Super Soaker, the water splashes hard like soft, liquid bullets against his tan chest. Against his entire tan body. His body, his skin tan because of what he was mixed with. White on his dad's side, and Black on his mother's. This would explain why his curly black strands of hair could morph into a nicely packed afro if given time. Seeing as he was thirty, it wasn't too surprising to hear people give him "quicky condolences" when he told them that both his parents had already passed away.
Reaching over to the side, he grabs the bar of soap. It was pink. "I hate pink...so why would I want it touching the most sensative parts of my body?" he asks himself. Once the soaping is done, he grabs a bottle of Head & Shoulders. Squeezing a glop into the tips of his right hand's middle and ring fingers, slappign the glop onto the top of his head. Following this, he leans over and scraps dilegently at his sclap. Awaiting all the shapoo and conditioning make it's way down the drain he steps out and onto the purple towel laying just outside the tub's frame.
Strange.
"What the hell?"
On the toliet, there sitting was a folded white towel and a fresh set of clothes, including socks and boxers. "I don't remember those being there before.....or maybe they were....damn, I need to catch up with my sleep." he dries himself with the towel all over and slips on the red boxers. Following the boxers were a pair of blue jeans. Whipping the blue shirt over his left shoulder, he grabs the socks and sits on the closed toliet. After putting on the socks he exits the bathroom and makes his way back to the living room area.
Escaping the darkness of that small hall, and returning to only gloominess. A macabre aura followed him everywhere he went. A sence of doubt lingered off each pinavle of his body. That's why he always felt depressed maybe. That's why he did those things he did. He did....no....he does these things in hope one of the opposite can make him feel happy. Breathe some kind of life into him in exchange for-
"Man I'm hungry!", he talks out to himself while slipping on the baggy, blue shirt. Walking into the kitchen and opening the dingy scathed fridge. Inside was mear 'passing by' material. Milk, two eggs, gallon of spring water, leftover Domino's pizza, and ketchup. "Woah....I need to go shopping. Better head out now." he says while passing the blank screen of his television. Hearing the thud of the fridge door closing. He stopped while passing and looked at the television, something didn't seem right. But before he could even try and think what it was he ignored it...and walked on.
Infront of his door was a pair of his favorite sneakers. White, Nike high-top with not a scoff of denim stain on it. He easily stepped into the shoes and remembered about his wallet. Feeling the back pocket of the jeans, that buldge made it apparent it was in possession already. As were the keys, easily known from the jingling heard coming from the right pocket. Now all there was to do was walk out the front door.
Before walking out he looked on the ground next o the door, laying on the carpet beside the trash littering the ground was an open newspaper. Front page news:
Killer on the loose, uses 'the Seduction disease' to kill vitims. Women be on guard for a male in late twenties.
From the title he arched an eyebrow. Then shrugging it off. This paper was one year old. Funny how it was the only one he carried, but like everything else slightly wierd so far, he just ignored it. A man using 'The Seduction Disease' to kill women wasn't his concern anyway, unless we had a swinger of both ways. In which case it still wouldn't matter seeing the date was locked. By now they already captured the guy and threw him in jail.
Enough staring at old news, time to become apart of our noir-enduced society. Luckily this town didn't sugarcoat it. The cynicalism ran deep in this town.
After sighing he opens his front door and walks out into the chilling. The chilling rise of the sun. Too bad he wouldn't feel or see the sun. It was late Fall and the grey, grainy clouds of depression covered the skies. It looked like six in the afternon every blinking second.
Walking along the railing, on the second floor, he looks out into the streets. Cars with worrisome people in the driver's seat. All going where they needed to not need to go. All playing pretend. Playing the game called life.
*Ring ring ring ring ring*
Oh what a surprise, so he brought his cellphone also. Prepaid cellphone he used quite frequently. And it took rest in his left pocket. He didn't even try and tink when he put all this in his jeans. Or when he managed to put his silver watch on his left wrist....
Instead the phone flipped opened and was answered,"Hello?" he asks in his usual low tone.
"Carter you *******! Where are you!?"
The responce surprises him,"Who the hell is this?"
"Don't act like you don't know! Get yur brooding ass down here, you haven't progressed on this case in a whole month! Is it really that difficult!? Why haven't you been answering your phone all this time anyway!?"
It hits him. Carter. It hits Carter that he should be at his workplace. His place of work, that facility in downtown where he takes in any case that gets offered because this poor, random bucket of tears is going to pay for him to eat another day. So he just abruptly hangs up the phone, it clamping shut with that click, walking into the parking lot, and puts away the phone.
"Now...where did I park my car....."
You don't have a car, he remembers. It's too much trouble. So Carter now finds himself walking out onto the sidewalk. He looks down the streets, the fastfood places, occupied streets, markets, autoshops, the works. All like what you'd expect in a normal town.
So as Carter is walking across the crosswalk he inhales and exhales this killing of the ozone. He smokes the pollluted air like a ciggerette and doesn't bother to cough. Cough? No, don't show air your weakness like that. It's just mad because the appliances of humans kidnapped it and made it hate itself.
By now Carter is in a walking frenzy. Cabs don't even patrol. Town's too small, and yet just big to prove a pain to walk from tip to tip. The sneakers splash in many a puddle. Puddles of water that look icky and nasty, you can easily tell by the way there are dingy colors showing up in it's picture. Carter knows how much these shoes go for and yet doesn't care that this piss water is hitting the skin of man's walking material.
The average lifespan of a person living in this town is somewhere around fifty. This has been proven fact. Carter knows firsthand about this fact.
Carter thinks, while walking down the sidewalk and passing various people, about his last and middle name. He can't recall them. How strange he thinks to himself. And just as he's about to remember clearly, telling it out to himself, a car vrooms by. Splashing this sick piss water all over his once comfortable clothing. Carter feels this. Feels every tiny drip falling off his body and onto the ground. A quick sensation of anger swells up. Those brown eyes of his sharpen. Carter runs into the street and looks at the lisence plate number. He takes note of it and stomps back onto the now empty sidewalk. Shaking his head, each strand of his hair flops and wacks the sides of his head. Sprinkling more droplets to the ground, plentiful at a time.
"What makes them think they can do whatever the hell they want..."
"Exactly!"
Carter hears the voice and spins in a complete circle. No one is there besides him. People stopped at the light look over at him and shake off his questionable movements.
"Who the heck was that, now I know I need sleep. That's it tonight I'm going to bed one hour early."
Many more, MANY more, minutes and Carter steps infront of a sqaure building the size of a Burger King. The building is brown and a sign hangs on the front of a green coated door.
Escrevni Detective Agency
Open Everyday from 12 to 12.
That's it. HIS last name was Escrevni. Carter Escrevni. A detective. Now it made a bit more sence. The insomnia had really put a huge dent in his memory.
Carter stares the bulding down with his sharpened brown eyes, smug look, and drenched clothing few minutes before actually making his way inside. Taking three proceeds up the concrete steps that lay just before the building and lead to an overhead area where the green door rested.
Carter clears his throat and pushes foward. But the door doesn't budge. He's pushing on the left door, the door to his left. The door side that has a sign of a finger pointing to the right door with a note-writing saying:
Wrong way moron. If you had actually stopped and payed attension to your surroundings, you'd have noticed a sign on the other door saying, Enter. Now go in the CORRECT way and don't make this stupid mistake twice. Freakin' idiot....
Carter reads it, as he finishes and has a look of contempt on his face, enters the correct way, through the correct door.
"Uh...hel-"
Before finishing, a book comes flying. It enters harshly into the nose of Carter, he who takes the hit and recovers with a mellow rage and annoyance.
"Ouch. What the hell was that for Samantha?"
Good, he knew who she was. And as soon as he realised he knew who she was, memories of her shot into his head. She was his assistant. Or something along those lines. His...very....beatiful and luscious looking assistant. Or something along those curves.
"Jerk! Get in here and work your tail off to make up for your inexcusable absences!"
Carter is rubbing on his face and through the gaps in his hands, created by his fingers, looks over Samantha. What a beauty. Long, flowing, red hair, nicely planated waist, legs that shined, slight blush over her vanilla coated skin, perfect height and weight, perfectly white teeth, golden eyed, and probally more he'd discover later with...further inspection.
"Samantha..what's the problem?", he asks not knowing what he could have really done. She said something about making up due to lost time, but he had no idea what she meant.
Samantha's caramel heels clump and clamp violently with her cute little feet squished in them, as she walks across the literally empty marble floor, and onto one of two only desks in the entire complex. She sits on the desk and turns to him. Tapping against her dark brown skirt. White, brown, and slight pink stripes running upwards vertically to make up her collared shirt.
She reaches over on the desks and puts on a tiny pair of level glasses. It helped her image more than it hurt.
Something deep within Carter was springing, and no, it wasn't that hard on that didn't yet exist. He almost felt nausiated with how this felt, but alas, this feeling vanished quickly without warning. He nods off as Samantha begins barking stuff randomly to him.
"Man...you're one hot *****....", gets mumbled.
"What did you say Carter!?"
Carter yawns and shakes his head,"Huh? I didn't say anything Sam."
"That's what I thiught. Now like I was saying, you need to get back on this case. You have been helping me with it for the last....going on a year now. I can't do all this without you, and it should be damn obvous."
Carter squints and pushes his head out in question format,"Um....mind....re--reminding me what the case was exactly?"
Samantha gives him a look of surprise," How the hell can you not remember? That's exactly what you get for being an ass. It's the whole reason I joined up with you all that time ago. To catch my sister's killer..." she turns over and is digging through some stuff on the desk.
Carter finds himself reluctantly staring at that little curve in her body as she does this. Eyes shifting up to the cieling as she exclaims in success and swings back over in her sitting position.
Samantha throws a bundled newpapaer at him, he catches it and unwravels it up.
Carter slightly moves his head diagnolly in a mixture of surprise and deep-rooted malice. On the front page read:
Killer on the loose, uses 'the Seduction disease' to kill vitims. Women be on guard for a male in late twenties.
Samantha stands and walks next to Carter looking at the one year old paper,"Remember....I came to you that night, and you promised to help me catch the bastard who killed my sister. He's still out there.....he's killing more and more women by the day Carter...."
Carter just stares at this front page assembling of letters, it makes him want to spark up memories. More importantly...it makes him lust. Makes him lust to catch.
He remembers more of his meetings with Sam now. It's more apparent.
Carter looks up to her and nods while sucking on his tongue, preventing her from noticing his uncaring for her situation. As much as he might have wanted to feel sorry for her, it felt as if they just met but didn't. Like she was a familiar stranger. But despite how HE felt, helping others in need came with the job description. And now knowing how much time he put into helping this girl, this had to be special in some way.
"Okay Sam. Where did we leave off with this? I apologize for my absence, not even I know where I've been all this time. Your case is my number one objective."
Sam repeatedly crosses her arms, letting them fall lifelessely to her sides and then springing them back into the pretzel formation.
Rinse, recycle, repeat.
"Ugh, forget it. The night before you went renegade, you said you had a strong lead and you were going to investigate it immediatly after grabbing something at your home. So.....?"
Carter scratches his head while taking a deep breath, chest filling with air into a petruding manner, eyes looking donwards as he tryed remembering just exactly what it was that he knew...and what he went home for. He was getting more questions than answers.
While exhaling the deep breath he walks over to what appears to be his desk, brown and covered in a lottery of papers. A file cabinet just behind the chair having four wheels under the legs, coushined to comfort. The chair itself tucked deeply into the desk, meeting the edge just bareky enough to fit.
Carter reahces out with his right hand and slightly pulls at the chair. It doesn't budge much at all, so he really jerks it the second time. Success. It causes a thumking sound sort of before rolling out from underneath the desk's surface.
He throws his behind roughly into the seat. The force causing him to wheel away little by little with the rest of the chair. Brining his hightops down into the groud, he stops the chair and himself in place. Both his arms laying on the chair's black armrests. A midnight black that matched the rest of the chair.
Scooting hismelf to the desk he occupied, now obvious to all the paper's having his name at the end of some kind of eviction notice or death threats or negative feedbacks of many a genre..., Carter leans his head against the top ot the chair's cushion.
Samantha watches him sit there a good five minutes just looking up at the cieling deeply with sharp eyes. Enough time has passed for her to get pissed. Six minutes, he's pushing it. The cieling's paint is breaking away to reveal dank brown. Eight minutes, he's a bastard. Carter releases more deep breaths. Nine minutes, his ass is in deep mess. Caramel heels clamp loudly on the ground. Ten minues, Carter turns in his chair as a fist gets driven into the top portion of his head.
"What the hell are you doing Carter?!"
Having just been hit by a good-looking women he recovers without negativity. Calmly rubbing his head and slouching deeper into the chair. "Sam, I'm a detective...being one requires the one who takes the title to think. Can I think please?"
Samantha looks at him like he's out of his mind, mixing it with incomprehensable doubt. Shaking her hands frantically with the stuttering and looks going on.
"I figured after wasting this time not being in office you would have atleast progressed somewhat. Do you even remember what you went home for?"
Carter can't help but shrug.
The women lets out a howl of stress,"You....often I think of why I waited for you. But luckily I got something."
Carter sits up slowly, looking at her seriously. As if he showed any other emotions than that.
"Oh yeah, what would this be exactly? Maybe it'll help me remember some things about the case."
"Well I'm not too sure about that, but it will help none the less. I looked hard for three weeks to find these guys..."
Carter props his head up in slight surprise,"Ah...so they're PEOPLE. Who are they, where can we find them and all that jazz...you know."
Samantha lowers her head, annoyed apparently, with one of her bangs covering on her face. "Why do I feel like I'M the detective?" she asks him.
Carter can't help but shrug.
And Samantha can't help but groan,"UUGGHH. ANY---how. The doctor and the prostitute."
"What's that now?", Carter asks hearing more of the prostiture part. Naturally the human brain responds to things it probally shouldn't even know about, things it know are bad. Like telling a child not to touch something...anything. You're guaranteed to have bought a three-hundred dollar vase by the time the night's over.
"I ran into two who can probally help us, luckily I actually met them three days ago so they should still be freshly availiable to us. I told the doctor of you, he's also one of the people interested in the capture of my sister's killer. The prostitute had a fellow 'worker' killed, her best friend. Says she's so scared of being next she wants to quit, but is also scared of poverty."
Carter stands up and walks around his desk and towards the front door, passing a bulletin board posted on their wall. Faces of the criminals from what he guessed were his old cases. There were seven faces posted, all smiling with the eyes of maniacal fanatics. They definatly seemed familiar but being as they were not even in good memory, and didn't relate to anything...the bulletin board was ignorable.
"Sam...we're leaving."
"I guess. We're going to find the two?"
"Correct. I had better get back into this game. We're going to find this doctor and hooker you speak of. By the way what are their names? Calling them doctor and a slanderous, poor excuse for a profession will quickly grow tiring."
Samantha follows Carter out the front door. She stops and pulls the key from somewhere on her dress, locking the entrance and exit.
"Oh, it's Dr. Avarice and Petricia. Those are what they should like being refered to as. Petricia we won't be able to find until the night, so I suggest we meet Dr. Avarice first."
Both their bodies rise and drop in pattern as they walk down the steps, apon reaching the last step Carter looks on his left wrist at his watch.
"Okay...let's find the doctor then. Should I look foward to these people and their antics?"
Samantha follows him down the concrete sidewalk to his right side,"Depends really. The Dr. Avarice is a bit...crazy but he's decent enough from what I've heard and seen of him so far."
Carter clenches his fists,"Good, let's get to it then. Let's not watse time."
Samantha notices a certain look of want on this man's face. It lessens her tense and aggrivated mood. Like he really wanted to make it up to her. But then that should be expected.
The walking wouldn't take long. Marry Sue Hospital wasn't too far from the obvious. So says Sam. And so says the voice in the back of his head.
Carter squinted as the lights of oncoming cars in the street, to the left, glared directly into their faces. Samantha grunted and followed by swearing. Carter brought up his hand, palm out, he could see the ashy parts of his hand it was so close. After the cars vroom by finally, they continue on with the edges of their faces pressed into a look of annoyed grimace.
Samantha was quiet.
The though of WHY, passed Carter's mind. In a way she was an exact opposite of him, so her not talking made it seem as something was wrong. Oh yeah, something WAS wrong. Her sister is dead from a murderer he's been too lazy to catch. That's what.
He grits his teeth and increases his stepping patterns, speeding up his pace. Samantha follows just behind, guiding him on when to turn.
They turned to a street littered with hobos. So this is what the stench of vagabond was like....horrid.
Sam stayed close behind Carter as they walked in a straight line on the path leading out to another street. A bunch of sleeping and drunk hobos were lain against the matching decrepit wood fences set up on each side, tall they were.
Both were careful not to bump or step on any of them.
Upon reaching the other side, out into the open, Sam took an overly animated deep breath and Carter just did a stressful sigh.
"Okay now where do we go?", Carter asks.
Sam mearly points up towards a huge white building with blue stripes and crosses and messages painted all over it's rectangular shaped build.
Carter looks up at it. It was seen, but it was in the distance, they still had to walk more to get to it. And though it wasn't far away, walking was proving to take a medium amount of time. Having already been walking for a rounded twenty minutes with no stop.
"So that's it huh.....let's continue towards it."
"Wait."
"Why?"
"I need a break, my feet are killing me."
"You should have known it would be like this, you've been there not only before, but more than me."
"Shut up bastard. If I could I'd-"
Samantha takes another one of those deep breaths after doing a momentary stretch. Then proceeds by leading Carter off again. He who was shaking his head confused. "Okay....nice initiative...." he says confused.
Before not too long the two are standing infront of the hospital. Through the glass doors they could see the lounging area. Each of the blue seats surrounded around the TV and the playsets for the littles, was occupied by people of different diversities and calibers. There was a line formed from what looked like a check-in/out line. People's expressions were no different from the ones vacating their stolen vehicles waiting for the slow light to turn red.
Carter and Samantha enter through the double door, letting the doors slowly fall back into position. No thud.
"Now to find Dr. Avarice..."
Sam talks to herself while cutting through a coupel of chair aisles to get to the nonexisting line to the Appointments window.
Inside was a eldely women with glasses slouched perfectly on the tip of her upper, pointed nose. Her tag reading Chelsea over her blue uniform.
"Yes I made an appointment to see Doctor Avarice.", Sam's voice changes to friendly----er.
"Name please.", Chelsea says.
"Name? Oh my name is-"
"Samantha.....?"
Sam turns and Chelsea look up to see a middle aged man with spiked brown hair, blonde at the tips, wearing his large white trenchcoat to reveal the also large and white shirt holding nothing more than a crooked question mark on it. The beige cackies held up with a black leather belt, and overlapping onto the mouth of his brown dress shoes. His rough and rugged face aided by his sharp turqoise eyes and thick brown eyebrows. He wore a smirk also. A misleading one. Basically saying that you'd better watch your back.
Dr. Avarice places his hands on Sam's right shoulder and they begin to walk away. He comments as they leave with, "It's alright, she's mine for the hour."
Chelsea nods and stares back down at the old computer planted infront of her.
Carter was watching a cartoon on the TV for a short amount of time, one where a mortal man dressed as a bat, jumped from building to building without fear but with a clear state of mind with what he was doing. Carter hadn't seen even a full episode of this cartoon and yet he already envied it's protaginist.
His thoughts are inturupted when Samantha walks back with Dr. Avarice.
Carter looks at him and wonders if he really could be a doctor. And when the doctor's hand comes out, he shakes it with a friendly nod.
"Hello there! You must be Mr. Escrevni?", says the overly excited man of higher height than the brooder.
And he responds, "Please...call me Carter. I hear you may be able to help us?"
Dr. Avarice claps and does a nod that might aswell be called a bow. "YES! Follow me to my office please and we'll get to buisiness, I'm really interested...." he turns as the three begin walking down the white halls of the hospital, dark brown doors closed most of the times, and in a whisper he says ".....in the guy you two are after."
Samantha keeps the feeling you get when you move foward towards a goal, to herself. She was feeling good knowing that she could finally get somewhere and avenge her sister properly.
Carter is standing to the doctor's right as they walk, Sam just behind them. People and employees pass and give Carter strange looks. One guy even tryed telling Carter something as he passed. He did a sort of "Get away" signaling with his mouth.
He didn't understand what their problem was but didn't look too much into it.
Finally they turned their last corner and Dr. Avarice leads them into the room. "Ah, take a seat please!" he says as he points to the cushioned chairs set right next to each other against the wall with a picture of a collage of differnet things on it. The apple catching Carter's eye as both him and Sam take seats. Him sitting to the doctor's left and her to his right.
"Let's see here. From what we understand there is a killer on the loose right now. But what are the facts, what do we KNOW without a doubt?"
"It's a sick bastard.", Sam replies in a optimistic's antonym choice of mood.
Dr. Avarice places his hands together and places them in what bears resemblence to a praying posture, looking like he was smelling the tips of his fingers deeply. Head leaned foward a bit. Eventually after thinking a little bit his hands come out still together and the index fingers point out at Sam with the rest now cupped in.
"Uh......yes.....but that's not what I meant. Okay, I'll start!"
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What a week...what a month....what a year.....what a life......and now it's coming to a close. And though as I sit here and watch my TV, on my deteriorating ass, I can feel no regret. These life and times, these times we live in...are only meant for destruction. Only meant to give humans **** to repeatedly step on. You'd think after time we'd quit caring and just step in manevolent mannerisms, yet we are compelled to grab the brush and scrub that **** off the bottom of our dying feet. Oh man.....this was the worst week of my life....but in truth. In truth through the eyes of a sinner. That sinner I've become. It was so damn perfect........
The compressed, dark room, resting tightly packed on the second floor of this run down apartment. Static buzzing like a bad itch across the eighteen by eighteen inch screen television. This room carries the utensils needed to barely get by. McDonalds wrappers litter the ground, along with empty beer bottles. This man. A conspiricy maker in his own mind. This man looks for reason. And the more he looks the more a completely off-topic subject glooms in overhead, reminding him where he stands. It's enough to drive one insane. Well...almost. You have to find the deep core of the cause first.
Infront of this static rests a man, resting on this three seat couch, which rested on the back of the grainy walls, of which were rested beyond control to be apart of this apartment complex.
"Oh geez....what time is it...ba-"
He stops and jumps to his feet. Oh the inhumanity. Heaven forbid anyone should walk in as this man stands there free with his balls and bat flopping with every slight turn. The real inhumanity though, is what this man's sentence was leading to. "Baby"? Who was this...'baby'? Had he gotten a women pregnant? Oh right, like they deliver within twenty-four hours of planting your seed.
Funny that he can't remember the night before. And why did he feel so damn tired?
Here we go. Wondering off when there are still possibilities. Let's rewind.
"Okay....what time is it?" he walks into the kitchen. Planting sights on the stove's digital clock. "Crap! Nine already? Today is...." he backwalks out from the kitchen opening and returns to the living room. Looking at the calendar, the Playboy one. Hell....the only one.
So as his eyes go from a nicely centered buttocks, to the lying pattern of numerical keeping, he automatically remembers. It's Saturday. Being as Frank-O's special was still alive as an aftertaste in his grasy mouth, it had to be the next day. Saturday.
"Okay...so I can work the second job. Ugh...better get ready."
He walks past the couch that rested infront of static, more importantly, the small tablestand which kept the phone flat on it's surface. The bland, grey telephone, not even cordless. The cords were even in that little swirl. The kind you could run your finger along and feel the fat of your fingertips entering each gap.
In the back area of this small apartment were just the nameless bedroom, and the bathroom. He walks down the dark halls, feeling the red carpet's roughness scrapng against his bare, flat feet. Stopping in the midsection he reaches just below the poster of something, towards the light switch. Flipping it up would be futile, seein as it was already up. So he flips it down only to get no change in atmosphere.
"Oh...right. I forgot to pay the bill...the one for the light. Dammit, my water better still work." he complains as he reaches his right palm out for the closed bedroom's doorknob. And as he hand touches the knob, he quickly finds himself removing his hand and instead going in the bathroom. He doesn't question why he does this, cause deep down he knows he's not ready for what's in there.
As his body turns around to face the inards of the bathroom, the door creaks to a slow close behind him. The toliet is directly across infront of his view, it's the first thing you will notice when entering. on the the toliet's left was the tub with the blue curtains going around in a full circle to close off everyone. And then to this man's right was the sink with the compartment lingering overhead, giving the illusion it was a mirror also. Though "illusion" doesn't really do it justice since...it is also a mirror.
He swings the curtains over and enters, swinging them right back to a close after entrance, gearing to take a shower. He stands in the dirty tub, facing the knobs at his kneelevel. Split second he feels errily sleepy and closes his eyes. Then seconds later his eyes jump open. Ignoring that little occurence he snaps into the out of it. He twists the left one all the way to it's right, he doesn't like hot showers, so this was means for a cold shower. Hopefully it could wake him up and open up his brain as to what happened these last couple days.
Like a pumped up Super Soaker, the water splashes hard like soft, liquid bullets against his tan chest. Against his entire tan body. His body, his skin tan because of what he was mixed with. White on his dad's side, and Black on his mother's. This would explain why his curly black strands of hair could morph into a nicely packed afro if given time. Seeing as he was thirty, it wasn't too surprising to hear people give him "quicky condolences" when he told them that both his parents had already passed away.
Reaching over to the side, he grabs the bar of soap. It was pink. "I hate pink...so why would I want it touching the most sensative parts of my body?" he asks himself. Once the soaping is done, he grabs a bottle of Head & Shoulders. Squeezing a glop into the tips of his right hand's middle and ring fingers, slappign the glop onto the top of his head. Following this, he leans over and scraps dilegently at his sclap. Awaiting all the shapoo and conditioning make it's way down the drain he steps out and onto the purple towel laying just outside the tub's frame.
Strange.
"What the hell?"
On the toliet, there sitting was a folded white towel and a fresh set of clothes, including socks and boxers. "I don't remember those being there before.....or maybe they were....damn, I need to catch up with my sleep." he dries himself with the towel all over and slips on the red boxers. Following the boxers were a pair of blue jeans. Whipping the blue shirt over his left shoulder, he grabs the socks and sits on the closed toliet. After putting on the socks he exits the bathroom and makes his way back to the living room area.
Escaping the darkness of that small hall, and returning to only gloominess. A macabre aura followed him everywhere he went. A sence of doubt lingered off each pinavle of his body. That's why he always felt depressed maybe. That's why he did those things he did. He did....no....he does these things in hope one of the opposite can make him feel happy. Breathe some kind of life into him in exchange for-
"Man I'm hungry!", he talks out to himself while slipping on the baggy, blue shirt. Walking into the kitchen and opening the dingy scathed fridge. Inside was mear 'passing by' material. Milk, two eggs, gallon of spring water, leftover Domino's pizza, and ketchup. "Woah....I need to go shopping. Better head out now." he says while passing the blank screen of his television. Hearing the thud of the fridge door closing. He stopped while passing and looked at the television, something didn't seem right. But before he could even try and think what it was he ignored it...and walked on.
Infront of his door was a pair of his favorite sneakers. White, Nike high-top with not a scoff of denim stain on it. He easily stepped into the shoes and remembered about his wallet. Feeling the back pocket of the jeans, that buldge made it apparent it was in possession already. As were the keys, easily known from the jingling heard coming from the right pocket. Now all there was to do was walk out the front door.
Before walking out he looked on the ground next o the door, laying on the carpet beside the trash littering the ground was an open newspaper. Front page news:
Killer on the loose, uses 'the Seduction disease' to kill vitims. Women be on guard for a male in late twenties.
From the title he arched an eyebrow. Then shrugging it off. This paper was one year old. Funny how it was the only one he carried, but like everything else slightly wierd so far, he just ignored it. A man using 'The Seduction Disease' to kill women wasn't his concern anyway, unless we had a swinger of both ways. In which case it still wouldn't matter seeing the date was locked. By now they already captured the guy and threw him in jail.
Enough staring at old news, time to become apart of our noir-enduced society. Luckily this town didn't sugarcoat it. The cynicalism ran deep in this town.
After sighing he opens his front door and walks out into the chilling. The chilling rise of the sun. Too bad he wouldn't feel or see the sun. It was late Fall and the grey, grainy clouds of depression covered the skies. It looked like six in the afternon every blinking second.
Walking along the railing, on the second floor, he looks out into the streets. Cars with worrisome people in the driver's seat. All going where they needed to not need to go. All playing pretend. Playing the game called life.
*Ring ring ring ring ring*
Oh what a surprise, so he brought his cellphone also. Prepaid cellphone he used quite frequently. And it took rest in his left pocket. He didn't even try and tink when he put all this in his jeans. Or when he managed to put his silver watch on his left wrist....
Instead the phone flipped opened and was answered,"Hello?" he asks in his usual low tone.
"Carter you *******! Where are you!?"
The responce surprises him,"Who the hell is this?"
"Don't act like you don't know! Get yur brooding ass down here, you haven't progressed on this case in a whole month! Is it really that difficult!? Why haven't you been answering your phone all this time anyway!?"
It hits him. Carter. It hits Carter that he should be at his workplace. His place of work, that facility in downtown where he takes in any case that gets offered because this poor, random bucket of tears is going to pay for him to eat another day. So he just abruptly hangs up the phone, it clamping shut with that click, walking into the parking lot, and puts away the phone.
"Now...where did I park my car....."
You don't have a car, he remembers. It's too much trouble. So Carter now finds himself walking out onto the sidewalk. He looks down the streets, the fastfood places, occupied streets, markets, autoshops, the works. All like what you'd expect in a normal town.
So as Carter is walking across the crosswalk he inhales and exhales this killing of the ozone. He smokes the pollluted air like a ciggerette and doesn't bother to cough. Cough? No, don't show air your weakness like that. It's just mad because the appliances of humans kidnapped it and made it hate itself.
By now Carter is in a walking frenzy. Cabs don't even patrol. Town's too small, and yet just big to prove a pain to walk from tip to tip. The sneakers splash in many a puddle. Puddles of water that look icky and nasty, you can easily tell by the way there are dingy colors showing up in it's picture. Carter knows how much these shoes go for and yet doesn't care that this piss water is hitting the skin of man's walking material.
The average lifespan of a person living in this town is somewhere around fifty. This has been proven fact. Carter knows firsthand about this fact.
Carter thinks, while walking down the sidewalk and passing various people, about his last and middle name. He can't recall them. How strange he thinks to himself. And just as he's about to remember clearly, telling it out to himself, a car vrooms by. Splashing this sick piss water all over his once comfortable clothing. Carter feels this. Feels every tiny drip falling off his body and onto the ground. A quick sensation of anger swells up. Those brown eyes of his sharpen. Carter runs into the street and looks at the lisence plate number. He takes note of it and stomps back onto the now empty sidewalk. Shaking his head, each strand of his hair flops and wacks the sides of his head. Sprinkling more droplets to the ground, plentiful at a time.
"What makes them think they can do whatever the hell they want..."
"Exactly!"
Carter hears the voice and spins in a complete circle. No one is there besides him. People stopped at the light look over at him and shake off his questionable movements.
"Who the heck was that, now I know I need sleep. That's it tonight I'm going to bed one hour early."
Many more, MANY more, minutes and Carter steps infront of a sqaure building the size of a Burger King. The building is brown and a sign hangs on the front of a green coated door.
Escrevni Detective Agency
Open Everyday from 12 to 12.
That's it. HIS last name was Escrevni. Carter Escrevni. A detective. Now it made a bit more sence. The insomnia had really put a huge dent in his memory.
Carter stares the bulding down with his sharpened brown eyes, smug look, and drenched clothing few minutes before actually making his way inside. Taking three proceeds up the concrete steps that lay just before the building and lead to an overhead area where the green door rested.
Carter clears his throat and pushes foward. But the door doesn't budge. He's pushing on the left door, the door to his left. The door side that has a sign of a finger pointing to the right door with a note-writing saying:
Wrong way moron. If you had actually stopped and payed attension to your surroundings, you'd have noticed a sign on the other door saying, Enter. Now go in the CORRECT way and don't make this stupid mistake twice. Freakin' idiot....
Carter reads it, as he finishes and has a look of contempt on his face, enters the correct way, through the correct door.
"Uh...hel-"
Before finishing, a book comes flying. It enters harshly into the nose of Carter, he who takes the hit and recovers with a mellow rage and annoyance.
"Ouch. What the hell was that for Samantha?"
Good, he knew who she was. And as soon as he realised he knew who she was, memories of her shot into his head. She was his assistant. Or something along those lines. His...very....beatiful and luscious looking assistant. Or something along those curves.
"Jerk! Get in here and work your tail off to make up for your inexcusable absences!"
Carter is rubbing on his face and through the gaps in his hands, created by his fingers, looks over Samantha. What a beauty. Long, flowing, red hair, nicely planated waist, legs that shined, slight blush over her vanilla coated skin, perfect height and weight, perfectly white teeth, golden eyed, and probally more he'd discover later with...further inspection.
"Samantha..what's the problem?", he asks not knowing what he could have really done. She said something about making up due to lost time, but he had no idea what she meant.
Samantha's caramel heels clump and clamp violently with her cute little feet squished in them, as she walks across the literally empty marble floor, and onto one of two only desks in the entire complex. She sits on the desk and turns to him. Tapping against her dark brown skirt. White, brown, and slight pink stripes running upwards vertically to make up her collared shirt.
She reaches over on the desks and puts on a tiny pair of level glasses. It helped her image more than it hurt.
Something deep within Carter was springing, and no, it wasn't that hard on that didn't yet exist. He almost felt nausiated with how this felt, but alas, this feeling vanished quickly without warning. He nods off as Samantha begins barking stuff randomly to him.
"Man...you're one hot *****....", gets mumbled.
"What did you say Carter!?"
Carter yawns and shakes his head,"Huh? I didn't say anything Sam."
"That's what I thiught. Now like I was saying, you need to get back on this case. You have been helping me with it for the last....going on a year now. I can't do all this without you, and it should be damn obvous."
Carter squints and pushes his head out in question format,"Um....mind....re--reminding me what the case was exactly?"
Samantha gives him a look of surprise," How the hell can you not remember? That's exactly what you get for being an ass. It's the whole reason I joined up with you all that time ago. To catch my sister's killer..." she turns over and is digging through some stuff on the desk.
Carter finds himself reluctantly staring at that little curve in her body as she does this. Eyes shifting up to the cieling as she exclaims in success and swings back over in her sitting position.
Samantha throws a bundled newpapaer at him, he catches it and unwravels it up.
Carter slightly moves his head diagnolly in a mixture of surprise and deep-rooted malice. On the front page read:
Killer on the loose, uses 'the Seduction disease' to kill vitims. Women be on guard for a male in late twenties.
Samantha stands and walks next to Carter looking at the one year old paper,"Remember....I came to you that night, and you promised to help me catch the bastard who killed my sister. He's still out there.....he's killing more and more women by the day Carter...."
Carter just stares at this front page assembling of letters, it makes him want to spark up memories. More importantly...it makes him lust. Makes him lust to catch.
He remembers more of his meetings with Sam now. It's more apparent.
Carter looks up to her and nods while sucking on his tongue, preventing her from noticing his uncaring for her situation. As much as he might have wanted to feel sorry for her, it felt as if they just met but didn't. Like she was a familiar stranger. But despite how HE felt, helping others in need came with the job description. And now knowing how much time he put into helping this girl, this had to be special in some way.
"Okay Sam. Where did we leave off with this? I apologize for my absence, not even I know where I've been all this time. Your case is my number one objective."
Sam repeatedly crosses her arms, letting them fall lifelessely to her sides and then springing them back into the pretzel formation.
Rinse, recycle, repeat.
"Ugh, forget it. The night before you went renegade, you said you had a strong lead and you were going to investigate it immediatly after grabbing something at your home. So.....?"
Carter scratches his head while taking a deep breath, chest filling with air into a petruding manner, eyes looking donwards as he tryed remembering just exactly what it was that he knew...and what he went home for. He was getting more questions than answers.
While exhaling the deep breath he walks over to what appears to be his desk, brown and covered in a lottery of papers. A file cabinet just behind the chair having four wheels under the legs, coushined to comfort. The chair itself tucked deeply into the desk, meeting the edge just bareky enough to fit.
Carter reahces out with his right hand and slightly pulls at the chair. It doesn't budge much at all, so he really jerks it the second time. Success. It causes a thumking sound sort of before rolling out from underneath the desk's surface.
He throws his behind roughly into the seat. The force causing him to wheel away little by little with the rest of the chair. Brining his hightops down into the groud, he stops the chair and himself in place. Both his arms laying on the chair's black armrests. A midnight black that matched the rest of the chair.
Scooting hismelf to the desk he occupied, now obvious to all the paper's having his name at the end of some kind of eviction notice or death threats or negative feedbacks of many a genre..., Carter leans his head against the top ot the chair's cushion.
Samantha watches him sit there a good five minutes just looking up at the cieling deeply with sharp eyes. Enough time has passed for her to get pissed. Six minutes, he's pushing it. The cieling's paint is breaking away to reveal dank brown. Eight minutes, he's a bastard. Carter releases more deep breaths. Nine minutes, his ass is in deep mess. Caramel heels clamp loudly on the ground. Ten minues, Carter turns in his chair as a fist gets driven into the top portion of his head.
"What the hell are you doing Carter?!"
Having just been hit by a good-looking women he recovers without negativity. Calmly rubbing his head and slouching deeper into the chair. "Sam, I'm a detective...being one requires the one who takes the title to think. Can I think please?"
Samantha looks at him like he's out of his mind, mixing it with incomprehensable doubt. Shaking her hands frantically with the stuttering and looks going on.
"I figured after wasting this time not being in office you would have atleast progressed somewhat. Do you even remember what you went home for?"
Carter can't help but shrug.
The women lets out a howl of stress,"You....often I think of why I waited for you. But luckily I got something."
Carter sits up slowly, looking at her seriously. As if he showed any other emotions than that.
"Oh yeah, what would this be exactly? Maybe it'll help me remember some things about the case."
"Well I'm not too sure about that, but it will help none the less. I looked hard for three weeks to find these guys..."
Carter props his head up in slight surprise,"Ah...so they're PEOPLE. Who are they, where can we find them and all that jazz...you know."
Samantha lowers her head, annoyed apparently, with one of her bangs covering on her face. "Why do I feel like I'M the detective?" she asks him.
Carter can't help but shrug.
And Samantha can't help but groan,"UUGGHH. ANY---how. The doctor and the prostitute."
"What's that now?", Carter asks hearing more of the prostiture part. Naturally the human brain responds to things it probally shouldn't even know about, things it know are bad. Like telling a child not to touch something...anything. You're guaranteed to have bought a three-hundred dollar vase by the time the night's over.
"I ran into two who can probally help us, luckily I actually met them three days ago so they should still be freshly availiable to us. I told the doctor of you, he's also one of the people interested in the capture of my sister's killer. The prostitute had a fellow 'worker' killed, her best friend. Says she's so scared of being next she wants to quit, but is also scared of poverty."
Carter stands up and walks around his desk and towards the front door, passing a bulletin board posted on their wall. Faces of the criminals from what he guessed were his old cases. There were seven faces posted, all smiling with the eyes of maniacal fanatics. They definatly seemed familiar but being as they were not even in good memory, and didn't relate to anything...the bulletin board was ignorable.
"Sam...we're leaving."
"I guess. We're going to find the two?"
"Correct. I had better get back into this game. We're going to find this doctor and hooker you speak of. By the way what are their names? Calling them doctor and a slanderous, poor excuse for a profession will quickly grow tiring."
Samantha follows Carter out the front door. She stops and pulls the key from somewhere on her dress, locking the entrance and exit.
"Oh, it's Dr. Avarice and Petricia. Those are what they should like being refered to as. Petricia we won't be able to find until the night, so I suggest we meet Dr. Avarice first."
Both their bodies rise and drop in pattern as they walk down the steps, apon reaching the last step Carter looks on his left wrist at his watch.
"Okay...let's find the doctor then. Should I look foward to these people and their antics?"
Samantha follows him down the concrete sidewalk to his right side,"Depends really. The Dr. Avarice is a bit...crazy but he's decent enough from what I've heard and seen of him so far."
Carter clenches his fists,"Good, let's get to it then. Let's not watse time."
Samantha notices a certain look of want on this man's face. It lessens her tense and aggrivated mood. Like he really wanted to make it up to her. But then that should be expected.
The walking wouldn't take long. Marry Sue Hospital wasn't too far from the obvious. So says Sam. And so says the voice in the back of his head.
Carter squinted as the lights of oncoming cars in the street, to the left, glared directly into their faces. Samantha grunted and followed by swearing. Carter brought up his hand, palm out, he could see the ashy parts of his hand it was so close. After the cars vroom by finally, they continue on with the edges of their faces pressed into a look of annoyed grimace.
Samantha was quiet.
The though of WHY, passed Carter's mind. In a way she was an exact opposite of him, so her not talking made it seem as something was wrong. Oh yeah, something WAS wrong. Her sister is dead from a murderer he's been too lazy to catch. That's what.
He grits his teeth and increases his stepping patterns, speeding up his pace. Samantha follows just behind, guiding him on when to turn.
They turned to a street littered with hobos. So this is what the stench of vagabond was like....horrid.
Sam stayed close behind Carter as they walked in a straight line on the path leading out to another street. A bunch of sleeping and drunk hobos were lain against the matching decrepit wood fences set up on each side, tall they were.
Both were careful not to bump or step on any of them.
Upon reaching the other side, out into the open, Sam took an overly animated deep breath and Carter just did a stressful sigh.
"Okay now where do we go?", Carter asks.
Sam mearly points up towards a huge white building with blue stripes and crosses and messages painted all over it's rectangular shaped build.
Carter looks up at it. It was seen, but it was in the distance, they still had to walk more to get to it. And though it wasn't far away, walking was proving to take a medium amount of time. Having already been walking for a rounded twenty minutes with no stop.
"So that's it huh.....let's continue towards it."
"Wait."
"Why?"
"I need a break, my feet are killing me."
"You should have known it would be like this, you've been there not only before, but more than me."
"Shut up bastard. If I could I'd-"
Samantha takes another one of those deep breaths after doing a momentary stretch. Then proceeds by leading Carter off again. He who was shaking his head confused. "Okay....nice initiative...." he says confused.
Before not too long the two are standing infront of the hospital. Through the glass doors they could see the lounging area. Each of the blue seats surrounded around the TV and the playsets for the littles, was occupied by people of different diversities and calibers. There was a line formed from what looked like a check-in/out line. People's expressions were no different from the ones vacating their stolen vehicles waiting for the slow light to turn red.
Carter and Samantha enter through the double door, letting the doors slowly fall back into position. No thud.
"Now to find Dr. Avarice..."
Sam talks to herself while cutting through a coupel of chair aisles to get to the nonexisting line to the Appointments window.
Inside was a eldely women with glasses slouched perfectly on the tip of her upper, pointed nose. Her tag reading Chelsea over her blue uniform.
"Yes I made an appointment to see Doctor Avarice.", Sam's voice changes to friendly----er.
"Name please.", Chelsea says.
"Name? Oh my name is-"
"Samantha.....?"
Sam turns and Chelsea look up to see a middle aged man with spiked brown hair, blonde at the tips, wearing his large white trenchcoat to reveal the also large and white shirt holding nothing more than a crooked question mark on it. The beige cackies held up with a black leather belt, and overlapping onto the mouth of his brown dress shoes. His rough and rugged face aided by his sharp turqoise eyes and thick brown eyebrows. He wore a smirk also. A misleading one. Basically saying that you'd better watch your back.
Dr. Avarice places his hands on Sam's right shoulder and they begin to walk away. He comments as they leave with, "It's alright, she's mine for the hour."
Chelsea nods and stares back down at the old computer planted infront of her.
Carter was watching a cartoon on the TV for a short amount of time, one where a mortal man dressed as a bat, jumped from building to building without fear but with a clear state of mind with what he was doing. Carter hadn't seen even a full episode of this cartoon and yet he already envied it's protaginist.
His thoughts are inturupted when Samantha walks back with Dr. Avarice.
Carter looks at him and wonders if he really could be a doctor. And when the doctor's hand comes out, he shakes it with a friendly nod.
"Hello there! You must be Mr. Escrevni?", says the overly excited man of higher height than the brooder.
And he responds, "Please...call me Carter. I hear you may be able to help us?"
Dr. Avarice claps and does a nod that might aswell be called a bow. "YES! Follow me to my office please and we'll get to buisiness, I'm really interested...." he turns as the three begin walking down the white halls of the hospital, dark brown doors closed most of the times, and in a whisper he says ".....in the guy you two are after."
Samantha keeps the feeling you get when you move foward towards a goal, to herself. She was feeling good knowing that she could finally get somewhere and avenge her sister properly.
Carter is standing to the doctor's right as they walk, Sam just behind them. People and employees pass and give Carter strange looks. One guy even tryed telling Carter something as he passed. He did a sort of "Get away" signaling with his mouth.
He didn't understand what their problem was but didn't look too much into it.
Finally they turned their last corner and Dr. Avarice leads them into the room. "Ah, take a seat please!" he says as he points to the cushioned chairs set right next to each other against the wall with a picture of a collage of differnet things on it. The apple catching Carter's eye as both him and Sam take seats. Him sitting to the doctor's left and her to his right.
"Let's see here. From what we understand there is a killer on the loose right now. But what are the facts, what do we KNOW without a doubt?"
"It's a sick bastard.", Sam replies in a optimistic's antonym choice of mood.
Dr. Avarice places his hands together and places them in what bears resemblence to a praying posture, looking like he was smelling the tips of his fingers deeply. Head leaned foward a bit. Eventually after thinking a little bit his hands come out still together and the index fingers point out at Sam with the rest now cupped in.
"Uh......yes.....but that's not what I meant. Okay, I'll start!"