Re: Alley Pond Park, Queens: Cerise & Clem & Cris
[Maybe Cris' name didn't ring any bells for Clementine, but her name went full on Angelus under domea his skull, and he looked at her open and long, curiosity and something else on dark features glinting with sweat from the sun. They weren't here to talk 'bout anything but work, but he couldn't help himself. Few people thought the Bronx accent was charming, but he knew the honeyed slowness of the South, and that was enough to confirm his suspicions with irrefutable proof, least to Cris' mind. (Plus, no one from the city talked like that, let alone called it 'Bronx,' insteada 'the Bronx.')] Clementine, huh?—You know Penny. I'm Cris. [He looked at her with more scrutiny just then, like he was sizing her up and trying to put her in the same space as Penny and see what happened. She was pretty, white and Southern, and something about her came off rich, like she knew money.
He offered a smile, and it was charming, sure. It always was, black lashes dark around darker eyes and teeth white. And, okay, the body. Cris turned his attention to the flat rock that was Detective Stone, then back to the body. He took in the scene too, quick black eyes and a lotta stuff going on behind 'em.
He circled 'round to the fabric lost in the grass, little evidence sign propped yellow next to it, but he didn't linger. Back to the body, and he squatted there. And yeah, it was ugly, but Cris had been to too manya these scenes. His lips pressed white together as he picked the blanket up and peered under it.] How long would she hafta had burned to get this degraded? How hot? [He looked up at the women from where he kneeled in the dirt. The rank burned scent turned his stomach, and he dropped the blanket. His voice wasn't emotionless. He didn't seem unaffected, even if he didn't utter any oaths. No matter how many bodies you saw, they always hit you somehow.] She got dumped out in the open. Somebody wanted people to see her. And burnin', that's a rough way to go. Could be personal.