An unexpected ‘BANG’ overheard from afar was enough to induce anxiety, which left an unsettling feeling in Iris’ stomach; and despite the DREADFUL suspicion that whoever he was about to encounter was dissatisfied, the boy hesitantly plodded into the workspace. However, he was almost immediately welcomed by a patently false smile that unfortunately did not ease his worry in the slightest. Only a hurried shake to the outstretched hand was given, retracting promptly and cautiously seated himself.
A simple glance was given to the pitcher filled with water and he shook his head to politely decline; Iris’ restless behavior was immensely evident as he fidgeted in the cushioned seat. Instead of focusing on the hands that clutched the legs of his pants, he concentrated to each of her words carefully— was he being framed for the robbed illustration? Instead of hastily jumping to conclusions in his mind, Iris glanced away from Sara, attempting to avoid eye contact with her at all costs; he knew that this response was mistrustful and would cause the stranger to interrogate him more. ❝I-I didn’t see WHO took it— only the painting… after it had been painted over.❞
The fact that there was an audio recorder documenting this ENTIRE conversation only made Iris more uneasy as he stared at his feet, acting as if the pattern that adorned the carpet was far more eye-catching, ❝U-um, does that… need to be on?❞ a slender digit carefully pointed towards the audio recorder.
Sara tapped her slender fingers on the desk softly as the male spoke. It was evident that Iris was anxious and tempted to dither. If he sprinted out of the room, she could always call security and arrange for them to pick his body up and plop it back in her office.
Her eyes focused on his as he continued--it was a display of authority. She was not ill at ease like the other. Her posture was straight and her eyes were filled with desire for the truth.
“That’s a shame,” she began, “why were you there? That particular street corner? Attachment Avenue? It’s a series of office buildings--save for a few cafes. You don’t strike me as a coffee person, Mr. Black, but I won’t jump to conclusions.”
When Iris brought up the recorder instead of responding, her lips almost curled into a frown--but she remembered to maintain a smile at the very last second. She stared at the audio recorder for a brief moment before she looked up and said, “It’s easier for me to analyze later, if I have your exact words. Don’t worry. It’s not here to harm you.”
The female thought briefly for a moment before she threw another set of questions at other. Instead of it being the normal interrogation, it was just a normal question one would ask their friends.
“...The office stresses you out, doesn’t it--? I can tell by the look on your face. Do you want to go out? To get something to eat while I ask you questions? It is around lunch time. I know a good place to get a biscuit and coffee--or a sandwich and soda, if you prefer that.”
