Re: Hannah/Sinjir
Sinjir stalked up to Hannah's side, his eyes narrowing as he watched the breathless man. The newcomer's dress was subtle but obvious to one who knew the signs: the tightly pressed pleats, the brightly polished cufflinks, the severe tailoring in spite of his soft, almost shapeless body. Though his terror eclipsed the typical haughty demeanor of his ilk, such small tells gave him away all the same. Sinjir grabbed his wrist and yanked him to his feet. It was no small task given his far greater weight, but Sinjir managed, with only a slight twinge in his back for his efforts.
"Bet I know who she is," he told the man. There was no pity in his eyes, no glimpse of the civic-minded good Samaritan in the hard lines of his face. If the blubbering, only-somewhat-undercover officer saw the truth behind his savior's expression, Sinjir neither noticed nor cared. "And I think if you want us to help you, you'd better tell us exactly where she is." He gave the man a hard shove toward the alley from whence he'd come. "Better yet, why don't you show us?"