Cecily Ashworth
Location: the Morgue
Cecily paused for a moment, considering Natasha's words. Lab sciences tended to be relatively safe, or at least, that's what she had thought before. The worst that happened was an explosion rendered blindness if proper eye protection wasn't worn, inspiring posters such as:
Sally was too cool to wear goggles. Now she doesn't need them. She grimaced slightly, mulling Natasha's words over. But at any rate, she still felt the coroner's office in Justice wasn't a good long term plan for drawing breath past the tender age of 23.
"Yes, I collected some samples," Cecily answered, pulling them carefully out of her bag.
"C.O.D.I.S. didn't get a hit on the other perp?" she asked, frowning again slightly. Science didn't always end up making solving cases easy. The matchbook in Lorna's digestive track was an interesting and gruesome twist of fate as well. She couldn't imagine someone forcibly shoving a matchbook down someone's throat before death. Odds were, she figured, it was self inflicted.
"You pulling the 'I'm going alone, I'm macho' crap?" Cecily asked, raising an eyebrow at Caesar. She'd read enough books and watched enough television to know that old line. The hero doesn't want to endanger their friends and goes alone, and ultimately, they need their friends to save the day. But instead of arguing, Cecily nodded. She didn't exactly fancy leaving the lab and going out into the night again. Chemicals were her friends. Not bullets.
"I'll work the nightshift here, then," Cecily said, as she hesitated for a moment to recall her social, and then filled out the information for Caesar. Had she not been shot that day, she might have been a bit more suspicious as to why exactly Caesar needed all of those pieces of information, but she trusted him now. Went with the territory.
As Roy walked in, Cecily chuckled slightly. He was in a sour mood as always. However, as his anger turned to concern, Cecily shrugged--with just one shoulder, mind you.
"Don't worry about it. Dr. Brinne here took care of things--she's been assigned to assist me with the autopsies until a new coroner can be found."
Iris Kingston
Location: Justice Asylum For The Criminally Insane: the Ludwig Building
There were moments when Iris had been tempted to curse under her breath. Had she been raised in France like her father, she supposed it would have been during her
bac. But instead, this was one moment where Iris wanted nothing more than to curse, as Cynthia tore the phone from her hands, and began shrieking into the receiver. Had Cynthia been fully institutionalized, and not a halfway house patient, there would have been no question of her seeing Relic.
But per the paperwork, Cynthia was partially sane. Almost ready for release. Nearly cured. However it was to be phrased, Iris took the phone back with a heavy heart, watching the photograph of Cynthia be ripped to shreds. Iris was not convinced at all that Cynthia was ready for this, but in a way, her patient had requested for Relic to be allowed into the asylum.
"Let him in," Iris said weakly into the phone. She then set it down, and muttered under her breath,
"Je pense que j'ai la tête de mouton." She forced a smile at Cynthia, and then explained to her that some visitors would be entering the asylum shortly.
"They're here to help," Iris said, more to convince herself than Cynthia.
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