Val had listened to the recording with a growing sense of dread. She had looked around at the others hoping to see some similar emotions, but all she had seen was professional interest. They didn't seem bothered by the bodies. They didn't seem to taste the blood pooling at the back of their throats like she did. They didn't even seem to flinch after having to listen to the phone call a second time. Val felt the sweat prickle through her pores. She felt sick. She felt afraid. She hadn't seen bodies before. Not like that. Not projected in high definition onto a wall. The desperation in the Tailor's voice was familiar, it was her own voice. His fear overwhelmed her. The terror she remembered wrapped its tendrils around her neck and began to choke her.

She straightened in her chair, her hands reaching protectively to cover her own neck, and she halfheartedly listened to the conversation that followed. While the others talked, Val engaged in a battle with her breakfast, desperately trying to remain still. She didn't want to throw up in front of the others. It seemed like poor form. Val didn't have time to think, she was busy fighting off her own nightmares. Sharp teeth leered at her from the shadows. A sweet flowery smell of doom surrounded her. Cruel promises full of love whispered out to her through her fear.

Caught in her own dark thoughts, Val only reluctantly recognized the pause in the investigative musing of her colleagues. Unwilling to be called on by Ellie, she surmised it was her turn to earn participation points. The young alchemist nodded thoughtfully as she sensed that all the eyes in the room had turned to watch her. In a feat of great dexterity, Val took off her freshly stolen sunglasses and placed them lightly on the table without so much as a tremor. She tried her best to appear as if she had been paying attention. She pretended that she had some deep insight into the murders gruesomely painted onto the wall.

"He has committed the crime who profits by it," Val began, channeling what little she remembered from Philosophy 101 and Seneca. The Stoics were cool. It was too bad they only wrote sad stories. She had no idea who or what had killed the two men. Not with any confidence at least.

Frost giants? Inuit ice demons? Murderers wielding magically frozen swords? It all sounded like a bad joke. Had she been unaffected by the drugs coursing through her system, Val was sure she would have laughed. Instead she just felt numb, any positive vibes having long since been dispelled by the gruesome scenes. She did not regret her evening of Bacchian debauchery, but she regretted the morning. Without Joanna's pleasant company, she was reminded of the dreadfulness of the world. The bodies stuck with her. Jumbles of intestine floating on the water were hard to forget.

"What's the point? Why kill some randos like this? Boredom? To send a message? An ice blade seems like an oddly distinct way to kill someone unless you just really hate using a gun. And killing people thousands of miles apart? What did the killer do, take a plane? Drive cross-country? Take the bus? Or is this some group thing? Maybe a doomsday cult trying to start a magical war? Some fucked up evokers lost to the thrill? 

Val shrugged her shoulders,"Maybe Mr. Tailor and Mr. Talbot were running some energy scam and ran afoul of the Frost Giant Mafia? Has anyone looked at their bank statements?"

Satisfied that she had accomplished at least the bare minimum expected of her, Val turned to eye the elderly wizard with a carefully curated smile that sparkled with glitter that fell from her hair,"And as for the coffee, I'm afraid I can't help you there, but do let me know if you need me to make you some little blue pills for your after work activities. Old age shouldn't hold you back..."

[hider=Summary]
Val proposes (mostly out of desperation) that perhaps the motives are what the SG should focus on.
She decides to meet poser-Gandalf's snipe with one of her own.
[/hider]