[hr][hr][center][h1][color=#00ccff]Cecily Ashworth[/color][/h1][img]http://68.media.tumblr.com/4411300ef224d3dd8aee3eb0f8d3286a/tumblr_inline_nvc0otCehn1qlt39u_500.gif[/img][hr]Location: the Morgue[/center][hr][hr]Cecily smiled a bit, hearing Natasha's quip about getting an intern. She knew it was the case, but she didn't want Natasha's death on her conscience. The job had already gotten to her before, landed her in two years of therapy in order to come to terms with the outcome of a certain case. Before she could reply, she heard the door slam open, and her heart practically exploded in her chest with fear. Scrambling madly for the pistol she now kept concealed, Cecily fumbled with it, hardly even having it drawn by the time she saw it was just Caesar, beer and pizza in hand. She let out a shaky sigh of relief, putting the weapon back away. 

[color=00ccff]"You nearly gave me a heart attack,"[/color] Cecily said weakly, though a bit of a grin played across her lips. [color=00ccff]"Maybe knock next time, yeah?"[/color] At his eye darting, Cecily nodded, a confirmation that Natasha could be trusted. She hadn't met the woman more than just an hour ago, but the brunette seemed harmless enough, and helpful. 

[color=00ccff]"This is Dr. Brinne, she's assisting with the autopsies,"[/color] Cecily explained, before biting down on her lips. She wasn't used to the family of the deceased coming into the morgue, much less helping with investigations. The bedside manner was awkward and clumsy, indicative of Cecily's own social skills. [color=00ccff]"And of course. It's largely unprecedented, but the new coroner can deal with [i]that[/i]. Won't be my problem."[/color] 

Glancing around the room, Cecily grimaced a bit, as she stared at the pizza. There had been pizza when Wallace died--it was likely the reason he had died. It killed her appetite, and the pessimist in her told her to watch out for needles in the back of her head. Rubbing her hair as if to confirm the instruments of death weren't present, she gathered up the file on Alicia, pulling out a duplicate of each form. 

[color=00ccff]"This is what we know,"[/color] Cecily said, going over the forms with Caesar. [color=00ccff]"And we [i]think[/i] we know where the crime scene is. The detective assigned to the case hasn't said anything, and I haven't heard anything from the FBI agent in town,"[/color] Cecily continued, glancing up from the paperwork. [color=00ccff]"If your BAC is under 0.02, then a trip to the nearest aircraft storage is in order."[/color]

Was it potentially out of line for her to allow Caesar so much free information? Yes. She herself would have been enraged at a coroner that did that, but yet, she could hardly care. [color=00ccff]"The woman who killed your daughter was Prosperine. The same woman who broke into the coroner's office and stole Danica Grave's gun."[/color]
[hr][hr][center][h1][color=ff6600]Chloe "Tuesday" Ridgeway[/color][/h1][img]http://68.media.tumblr.com/43151fe8dbe54dbf598cdb94e2f2fde6/tumblr_inline_mfhw6bHRdG1rcntul.gif[/img][hr]Location: Boston Heights[/center][hr][hr]Tuesday's eyes darted up, seeing the knob start to move. She held her breath, flashes of prison orange and correction officers appearing before her. Staying as still as she could be, in the tiny corner she had hidden herself away in, she couldn't help but pray it was simply one of the residents of the building. She doubted that Marc could've gone far from his partner, and the fact comforted her. The man who shared a name with a dating ap couldn't [i]possibly[/i] be on the other side of that door. 

And yet, she continued to remained tucked away, her body smaller from the weight loss that came with a druggie lifestyle. The door opened, pushing forward slowly, and Tuesday continued not to breathe, turning slightly pink. Smoking didn't tend to help with lung capacity, and far sooner than she'd care to admit, she drew a small breath. Not daring to move her head, she couldn't see the two individuals there, and she bit her lip. 

It was times like these where Tuesday tended to reevaluate her life choices. She shut her eyes, remembering the first time she had used Adderall, and then the first time she tried something different, in order to stimulate her brain. Her addiction began as an attempt to feed another addiction--academic achievement. Stanford's pre-med track hadn't been easy, and the drugs had been meant to help her through it. They were supposed to give her clarity and focus.

But hiding in a corner of the Boston Heights, she realized for a brief moment how much she had wasted those years.