[color=goldenrod][i][h2][center]Gerard Segremors[/center][/h2][/i][/color]

[@Crimson Paladin][@VitaVitaAR]

The Stingray openly preened at his words, tilting her head back and regarding the young knight with a smile that might have been charming, had he not been overwhelmed by the sense he was being appraised by a hunter in the forest. It was almost chilling. He couldn't relax around this person, not fully and not yet. He'd treat her with the care one ascribed to a dangerous beast— never to show fear, but to maintain healthy awareness of capability.

His search through the Captain's quarters, by contrast, was roughshod and almost irreverent in the name of thoroughness. Where surprisingly little had been disturbed prior, Gerard all but turned the room upon its side in search of evidence, but to no avail. Whomever had incited things had, for all The Stingray's opinion on their technique in slitting throats, taken great care to cover their tracks. Save for the pointedly empty desk drawer, mocking them in its question-raising, he had found nothing until they came across the corpse, hidden in the shadow of the door next to a blood-drenched mound of linen.

[color=goldenrod]"Well, much cleaner here."[/color] he chuffed plainly, dropping to a squat and reaching out to examine the wound up close, steely hand staining slightly red as it traced the crimson line across the man's neck. If there were any fragments of the blade that caused this wound, he'd pry them out. Anything would be a step up from what they'd been working with thus far.

Then again, such a wound would surely be the Shard's doing, no?