[h2][center][color=turquoise]Estelle Victoria Gennings[/color][/center][/h2]


Estelle possibly could have gone unnoticed, if not for the grating sound of compacted snow beneath her boots as she casually approached the scene. She peered all the way down her nose to the crumpled mess on the ground, a hint of curiosity in her gaze. Unable to make out their identity, she listened to the stifled panic and murmurs floating around to catch a name for the pile of offal and blood.

It was a fruitless effort. She heard snippets of words and phrases. Something of a doctor and jumping, of phone calls to police or an ambulance. What she heard most was surprise, panic and fear. A laugh didn't escape her, nor a smile across her lips, though she found the whole event to be a funny thing. Arkham was a giant anomaly, subject to strange happenings every day, and still it's subjects were surprised by the outlandish events. They ignore the bizarre right before them, just as a carriage horse will ignore the pedestrian traffic with it's blinders on the sides. [i]Good thing I chose psychiatry, there are plenty of loons here.[/i]

A focused moment produced a name, however. Atkins. Atkins...yes. She had heard of him before, though very little. In a town like this, you hear a little about everyone. But had she heard enough to care about him? No, not really. On the contrary, this Dr. Atkins had done more for her than anyone would know, on the contrary. In jumping from the roof of the university, he had stirred up her day to provide something akin to intrigue. In addition, and much to her chagrin, his death had also provided an adequate distraction from the fact that she was, indeed, a couple minutes late.

With a parting glance, Estelle made her way around the mass of hysteria, and searched instead for the entrance to the university or perhaps someone she knew.