Weird. Right.

Like this world wasn't weird, like this existence wasn't a total lie.

Detective Ellen Lockhart was not a mountain of a woman by any stretch, dwarfed by her driver. That wasn't to say she was a normal woman, either, and were anyone else driving she'd have likely towered over them. Not the captain, though, a giant couldn't hope to tower over that man. Instead, Ellen grunted up at him and opened the door, stepping out and slamming the door behind her without a word. Play nice with the other kids, right, because that's all most of these idiots were. Children, innocent to the real world and busying themselves on the playground with unimportant gossip.

Ellen shoved her hands into her pockets, wearing a black longcoat left open in the front, its black leather fluttering inches from the ground beneath her as she approached the yellow tape. Beneath that she wore a more traditional raven black dress shirt, buttoned up to the very top button and tucked into her equally black dress pants. So what if she likes black, it's thinning, and anyone who wants to comment on it can stuff it. A badge, the same as the captain's, hung from her belt, mere inches from a holstered handgun, and allowed her quick and easy entry past the small blockade that had been erected in front of the museum. 

A murder, that's all that had been reported. A murder and a theft, obviously, but the murder was the important part. Ellen stepped over the tape and into the museum, looking around in disinterest as officers she didn't recognize were turned away and officers she did became more and more common. A guard was murdered attempting to apprehend a thief, and that's that. What the news was told, whether he was stabbed or beaten, doesn't really matter. The guard wasn't ever found, merely an exact replica made of stone, its leg shattered and face carved into a look of abstract horror. Given that a bust of Medusa was what ended up stolen, it's not exactly difficult to imagine what happened, when you know what she knows.

Greek history was never her strong suit, frankly, and when Ellen entered the busiest exhibit, little yellow signs marking every few feet of the marble flooring, all she could do was give a blank stare towards the grand sculptures and artworks. Battles, gods, weapons, none of it really mattered, because all of it was real. There was no metaphor, no grandeur, no awe of the unknown. Gods existed, many still do, and she's sure every single one of them is a shitty person. What was she supposed to feel, then, knowing this? A man had been murdered, a life extinguished, and by something fantastical.

Frankly, it was annoying to know what she knew, to do what she did, but this was her first real case since she got to this forsaken city. Her first time in years where she could spend time out in the field, discovering these things instead of transcribing the reports of idiots for a living. Why did it all feel so... false?

Her emerald eyes finally landed on the main event, the frozen guard, but she paused before she approached. Where was her 'partner' in this room? She hadn't actually been given a description, but she'd assume he'd be investigating the body. Apparently... not. She sighed to herself, a hot breath escaping her as heavy black boots carried her to the scene. Doesn't really matter, she would just do this herself.

Like always.