The annoying thing about talking to Mark was that his eyes never stayed still. He saw what he wanted to see, with a little bit more besides, and spent the rest of the conversation looking away from the person that he was talking to. He thought that it might add a bit of mystery to the conversation, considering that half-lies and innuendos were a part of regular conversations that he just didn't find any use for. Meaning that he couldn't pull them off. He had tried repeatedly in college, but had ended with results of people looking at him like he was speaking a foreign language, so he gave it up altogether. Speaking firm and direct might have been a little awkward for some people, but it was the easiest for him.

His eyes cleared as he brought his mind back to the conversation, and he narrowed them. He was the best that the Agency had, at least in his particular field. His face went from the mask of the mild professor to an annoyed man as the Agent continued. Special Agent status, no red tape and no one breathing down his neck. He would believe the last two when he saw them. Maybe when Santa would stop by and leave him a couple presents too. But at the last, he was right. Vern wasn't going to say no. He was here to help the FBI however he could. If J.L. wanted, he could petition that Vern be transferred, and he would have little to say about that. The people in charge didn't take instructors very seriously, after all.

So he followed the Agent... Josh was it? Back to J.L.'s office. It was just as he remembered it from that interview where Vern had accepted a single case from the man, and later regretted it, coming back here to regretfully resign from active work and go back to teaching trainees. He blinked and sat down across from J.L., remaining silent, never looking at the man. He knew as much as he cared to about the man. He worked on being strong, being a leader in front of the people that worked for him. He was strong, smart, and knew how to play the game. When Vern looked, he saw more, but he closed his mind against that. Any more and he would lose respect for the man, and that was not good for a man in his position.

Glad to finally have something to latch onto, he pushed his glasses closer to his eyes and looked at the pictures. Most people would have been horrified, awed by the scene after scene of horrific and terrific death that was in these pictures, but he wasn't. He had seen death too many times to be shocked by it, so his eyes looked over the pictures, taking in the details, committing them to memory and pushing them aside in favor of the next one. There was a pattern here. Most people attributed brutality in killings to passion involved, but crimes of passion were invariably simple. Clubbing to the head, shooting, knife, etc. They all showed the same pattern. They were sloppy. Here there was a a different pattern. Brutality, but no passion. They were meticulous, sharp and showing knowledge and icy skill, but there was something else too. It went beyond cold murder. Enjoyment was in the actions, but they weren't the reason. It was like he was practicing, keeping to a single part of his ritual, changing everything else sporadically.

He narrowed his eyes. There was something here that didn't add up. He looked up when Jay asked a question. Did he know what this was? His eyes twitched as his mind processed the information. 

"What do I see?" He sighed, leaning back. He hadn't been exposed to the case files of the Buffalo Butcher yet, but he could put two and two together. He had seen little bits and pieces, little hints here and there before they were stashed away under the words 'Investigation Pending' which meant that no one but the investigating Agents could lay eyes on them. But he knew who this was. He could tell from a mile away. He had been in college when the investigations concerning the 'Chesapeake Ripper' had been all over the news, followed by the arrest of renowned and respected psychiatrist Hannibal 'the Cannibal' Lecter had been arrested, but he had followed the case details as close as he had been able. And now he was being shown the pictures and evidence files of the only one that had matched the Cannibal since he was arrested. But he took a deep breath. As much as he wanted to help track this man down, he knew the kinds of paths that he would have to walk to be able to," What do you want me to see, J.L.?"