- The first red flag that went up was Avis's abnormally indifferent mannerisms. He barely moved, hardly reacted, flinched away from Darcy's touch. The scientist would have thought, with everything that had happened, that Avis might at least have returned the sentiment of being concerned and relieved about the other's wellbeing. Instead, he was met with a hard and seemingly unfeeling bookkeeper, one who appeared unfazed by recent events. When Avis walked past Darcy like the latter didn't exist, the scientist blinked and knit his brows, turning his neck to follow Mr. Savant's movements through the scene of the murder. He couldn't even begin to properly describe what it was he was feeling now, but he knew it wasn't a pleasant sensation in the slightest.
The second red flag went up when Avis opened his mouth. There was something terribly off about his speech pattern. It took a moment for the doctor to realize it, but Avis wasn't stuttering. He wasn't stumbling over his words like his tongue was made of clay, wasn't fidgeting nervously in any way. He was the most poised he'd ever been. And now it was Darcy's turn to stammer.
"I-I—" He swallowed and cleared his throat. "I was hoping for an eyewitness account." He clasped his hands behind his back, as he did when composing himself, and turned to face Avis full-on. His eyes, lined with swooping dark circles of sleep-deprivation, looked almost like menacing black holes when he narrowed them. Gone was the concern that had shone plain on his face seconds ago, replaced again with that smooth mask of marble. "I'm afraid Cordelia has not been much help in that respect. If you could give me a firsthand retelling, I would appreciate it. After all, I would be neglecting my duty if I didn't try to gather all the evidence." He lifted his chin. "Or would you prefer to instead discuss the finer points of the philosophy of death and undeath?"
