Carver's cold, disdainfully aloof reaction to both of them was the silent scribing of what appeared to be incoherent notes; a few visible acronyms, strange patternistic dialogue. Nothing worth trying to read at the moment as to who else short of the outsider could read it - if at all - was a perfectly valid question. He seemed to nod, keeping tabs on the way they phrased things, their demeanor; Chris' reaction provoked more interest initially, getting a bit more recorded, but it soon moved to the woman. She seemed to stumble uneasily through recollection, but not wrongfully in the slightest. They were discussing the strange, with the both of them before Carver holding an unusually common trend they might not have ever realized otherwise... in particular given their earlier interaction.

The pen came to a halt and the man behind the glasses looked to them both with the same blankness of a calculating machine. It was eerie, emotionless and vaguely hollow. His eyes couldn't be seen, but they could be felt just as much now as they had been before. The sort of feeling one might get when they're being looked deeper into than they would ever prefer.

"Seems there's an ongoing lack of rationality here." Carver's pen laid itself to the hand of notes while he spoke, crossed by his thumb.

Free hand adjusting the sunglasses under the fluorescent lighting that permeated the evidence room, Carver proved to look first at the other man then slowly back to the other company in the form of Piper. He said nothing for the moment, allowing the ambience to settle in - almost prying for more to be said. They seemed to add nothing, but he made no effort to press. Again he took the pen, added something else, then returned it by its clip to his pocket and the pad itself to the other.

"I don't like what you're suggesting, perhaps as much as you both don't for your own various reasons," He started before addressing the creases of his worn olive coat's sleeves, "But there's one more person I want to hear from."

The process of thought was self explanatory, but he kept it going as his fingers adjusted the jacket more at the intricate tattoos of the upper arms; the right bore a whirling darkness interwoven with a pantherine cat, the left displayed only the point of a larger blade flanked by olive boughs and broken arrows. When he finished, they almost disappeared again, yet he never ceased his conversation with them in the tiny, unsettlingly close environment to the grisly pictures and what they brought to the forefront of mind.

"I am going to ask you don't lead him. Can you do that?" Carver said, his posture relaxing.

There was too much left unsaid, too well was that taken, and too unsettling was it that these various qualities began to merge.

[@Kidd][@RedXCross]