[superintcndent]

#SUPERINTCNDENT —— independent & selective   STELLA GIBSON   from BBC’s The Fall.  established July 2015.   heavily canon based, with some head canon & personal influences.     penned by rae ( 30+, she/her ).     warning:    blog will contain some triggering content.

[musesofhororr-deactivated202406]

Hannibal remembered months back reading up on Stella and what had happened in Belfast. He remembered admiring Paul's work. It was just a shame he didn't cook the bodies like he would have. But then again he didn't just put anyone's meat into his mouth. There was a deficient between Paul and Hannibal, Paul got caught and took his own life, such a shame, Hannibal thought to himself, for he would have love to meet the man.

He felt that the two of them could have done so much madness together. As stella spoke, Hannibal watched as her eyes looked away. "Stella." Hannibal said softly. "Nightmares are the brain's way of dealing with what happened. It isn't right by any means at all. But sometimes when we or our minds don't know how to deal with trauma we tend to beat ourselves up. That's why we have nightmares."

Placing his pen and notebook down, Hannibal took a deep breath in and let it out slowly. "Have you tried seeing people? Maybe try and go out to a bar and find someone to hang out with."

[superintcndent]

SOMEONE TO HANG OUT WITH, HE SAYS and it's then that Stella meets Hannibal's gaze a bit questioningly with furrowed brows and eyes slightly squinted. It isn't so much the statement in itself that causes an internal line of inquiry as it is the wording of it. She knows what he means, of course and her fingers grip together a bit more in the process. ❝ On occasion, yes. Though truthfully, not as often as I used to. ❞ Going out to meet random people wasn't exactly as easy to do when she was home, that was more of a social intimacy she preferred to keep internationally when applicable. Saved her the struggle of running into them again and although she liked to think that she had a good sense of certain individuals, that was unfortunately, not always the case. Even now, she has a difficult time in figuring out her own therapist who currently sat directly in front of her. There was a strange, brooding sense to his demeanor that she couldn't quite place, but he also hasn't given her much reason to question him in full and so, she dismisses it entirely for now.

❝ Are you suggesting that hanging out with others will somehow help cease these recurrent nightmares? If so, I should probably state that at times, that only seems to make some matters worse. ❞

[bertharussellgf]

“The Hell Within Him” | The Fall — 3.04

[silencedrage]

Her eyes are drawn to the case file that sits innocuously between them, though Stella doesn't jump right into her questions. She seems to be taking seriously her intention to keep things comfortable for Lottie, as much as it can be in a facility like this. She assumes this is about the night that led to her latest institutionalization, though she inhales a little when Stella brings up Natalie's name. Just the briefest flare of nostrils that she otherwise pushes down because she has been avoiding thinking about the events of that night, much to her therapists' consternation.

But it's the other names that Stella brings up that makes Lottie furrow her brow. She recognizes Adam Martin as the name of Shauna's paramour, the one whose body the police had apparently found the night she came to the compound. And... Kevyn Tan. His is a name that keeps coming up unexpectedly, having gone over twenty years without even giving thought to the goth teenager that she'd gone to high school with. At most, she remembered that he and Natalie had been friends, and they'd apparently reconnected recently too.

It had been a surprise in itself to hear that he head become a detective, but she supposed that was the nature of small towns, not that she'd spent any amount of time there since she was 18, and hearing that he had somehow met his demise on the very same night Natalie died, in the very same place, it sends chills down her spine whenever she thinks of it. "Yes, Kevyn," she murmured. looking down, though ultimately relieved that Stella isn't there to talk about her teammate. "I'd heard that he had been found in the trunk of a car... but I'm afraid I don't know anything else than that. I didn't even know what happened until some lovely gentlemen from the state police came to ask me some questions."

She gives the same story that she's given to other investigators, how she and her old teammates had gathered together for the first time in 25 years, for the sake of old times, deliberately skirting around the events that transpired in the woods. After all, Stella is asking about Adam and Kevyn and truthfully, Lottie has no idea about either man. "I don't think I'd be able to help you with your investigation, Superintendent Gibson." She pauses, wondering if she's just seeing something else in Stella's eye. "Did you know him? Is that why you're here?"

[superintcndent]

LOTTIE'S SUBTLE REACTION AFTER HEARING NATALIE'S NAME doesn't go unrecognized in full, nor does the rest of how she responds to Stella's further inquiries on the subject matter of that evening. Knowing of course, how it must not have been an easy conversation to have, over and over again, constantly being berated by multiple individuals looking to get the story straight. Stella hadn't expected much, but remained hopeful that Charlotte could tell her something, anything that might be useful. A soft sigh of breath escalated once realization strikes that perhaps she's just wasting both of their time and she simply nods her head in understanding. ❝ I believe you. ❞ And she does, because there was no reason for the woman to lie in relation to whatever actually happened to Kevyn Tan, who in all honesty, shouldn't have been at Camp Green Pine in the first place. He'd broken many protocols by trespassing on private property and his partner was under a lot of investigation as well because of it. ❝ Yes, I knew him. ❞ But she doesn't feel the need to divulge more information than that, because his death wasn't the only reason as to why she was there. ❝ Actually, Miss Matthews, I'm here for more than just that. We've been looking deeply into your overall case file, studied your testimonies quite thoroughly and spoke with your therapist extensively as well to gauge a consensus on your incarceration status. ❞ It's then that her attention shifted to the manila folder between them on the table and opens it to reveal several small stacks of paperwork. Turning it around for the other to read through, she pushes it towards her, pen already present within the folded corner.

❝ This part may seem a bit tedious, but it is standard procedure and I think you'll agree, well worth the effort. Each page involves your already provided statements regarding the night in question, the highlighted marks is where I will ask you to sign in agreement that everything stated here is accurate to your point of view and everything that you know. Any further information that might be applicable, I can only encourage you to share with me, but as it stands currently, it seems you are eligible for release from this facility. Your compound, however, is still under heavy observation as it is still considered a crime scene, but we've secured a temporary location for you in the meantime should you choose to accept it. All I really need from you in order to let this happen, are some signatures. ❞

[perfectionreached]

the truth was, she didn't really want to bring anyone else into her campaign. it was hard enough finding people that she trusted enough to even know the completely fake and curated version of herself. but she was desperate. there was no doubt in her mind that the seat on state senate was hers. but she needed to be sure. stella seemed like a very straightforward and honest person, which was exactly the vibe taissa was looking for.

she's impressed by the handshake, pulling her hand away with that small smile still on her face. it wasn't like she was looking for her next best friend, those were hard enough to find, but just someone who she wouldn't hate spending time with. taissa wants to get straight to the point, not wanting to waste either of their time. there would be nothing more embarrassing to her ego than to be turned down in this moment. she supposes that stella already knowing who she was did work in her favor.

"i'm sure if you've seen the papers you've seen the..." she pauses, trying to find the best way to casually talk about the setbacks that her campaign has faced. it wasn't something she liked talking about. ".... issues that i have encountered particularly around threats to my family. i think people are very aware of the attack ads that phil bathurst has put out." she can feel the slight anger drip through her words, trying her best to push it away. "i've been advised that i need someone on the back burner to make sure things run more smoothly. i've heard that you're trustworthy." taissa takes another sip of her drink, eyebrows raising as she makes sure to catch the other's eyes. "would they be correct about that?"

[superintcndent]

FREE HAND IS DRAWN DOWN TO REST UPON LAP AFTER the handshake, shifting in her seat only slightly as she changes the position of crossing one leg over the other to sit a bit more comfortably upon the stool. She's still toying with the stem of her wine glass, but doesn't bring it up to her lips again just yet as she instead, just listens to what Taissa has to say. Yes, she's read about certain rumors involving threats to the woman's family, though she had yet to really dive into the full details regarding it. Playing bodyguard wasn't exactly something she's used to being hired for, but she knows that what Tai is really asking involves a deeper type of protection. A simple nod given and then a hum in understanding, maintaining their eye contact all the while with a stoic seriousness she herself is well known for. Taking an internal note on the way Taissa speaks about her relationship with her competitor and rival, Phil Bathurst. Brows knit together if only slightly with lips coming to purse instinctively at the question presented to her. Trustworthy was a lucrative term and for a second, she finds it an odd sort of inquiry, to ask someone if they could be trusted because naturally, it's in anyone's best interest to agree that they are. ❝ I suppose, that highly depends on who you ask. What is your gut telling you? ❞ Personal interpretations meant more to her than word of mouth, even if they hadn't known each other long, they clearly both knew of the other well enough to gauge an initial opinion.

❝ Mine is telling me that you're a woman of high intelligence, you don't associate yourself with just anyone, no matter how beneficial it might be to your image. You're very particular and precise in that, or at least, from what I can tell so far. Careful, seemingly the simpler and more appropriate phrase to consider. I could certainly tell you that I am trustworthy, but of course, I would say so, wouldn't I? We all believe that we can be and I have a feeling you wouldn't be sitting here talking to me now if you didn't think that I was. ❞

[musesofhororr-deactivated202406]

" Oh ? " Hannibal asked while he walked back over and handed Stella a glass of water. He then sat down and opened his notebook and read through a few things they talked about last time.

"Is it still about the events that took place in Belfast?" Turning to a new page, Hannibal looked up at Stella for a moment. "Tell me the most recent nightmare you had." Clicking his pen, he looked back down at the blink page.

"I can give you something for sleeping. Hopefully that will help with the nightmares." Hannibal said softly. "Sometimes we think the body can handle all of our pain and suffering on its own. But in reality, it can't."

[superintcndent]

REACHING FOR THE GLASS OF WATER, SHE DOESN'T QUITE TAKE A SIP initially but instead, lets it rest upon her lap momentarily. Fingers lightly tapping against the circumference as eyes cascade down. A single nod provided in response to his inquiry, ❝ The majority of them, yes. ❞ It was one that haunted her more so than most, perhaps because it had been the most recent or because it was a villain who had been able to slip past the folds so easily. Paul Spector was gone, but his torment upon this world forever lived on without the justice the families deserved, and she felt a huge amount of responsibility in regard to it. Her most recent dream however, well, it's then that she does take a sip of her water. Allowing it to settle upon her tongue before swallowing in thought of where to even begin. ❝ It's usually always the same: I'm in the bath… relaxing, seemingly alone. Hand massaging my arm, and when I open my eyes: I see him. Clear as day. His dark eyes, staring deep into my soul before he inevitably suffocates me to death beneath the water's surface. But I don't die entirely.

I just… suffocate, surviving if only to glimpse every other form of torture he reciprocates upon others that I cannot help. I watch, like a spectator. Unable to stop it and then he laughs while looking at me. Then… his face shifts, distorting in such a way that I can't, quite place. Like, he's someone new. ❞ Her eyes are focused elsewhere when she speaks, only looking towards Hannibal near the end. ❝ Then he eats. Something bloody and fowl, like an organ. And it's me, who's feeding him. ❞

[superintcndent]

for my yellowjackets fans & followers: you can also find me at @scatcrccio & @healiotrope where most of my attention has been residing as of late.

[drdumaurier]

❝          They won’t tell you fairytales of how girls can be   𝑫𝑨𝑵𝑮𝑬𝑹𝑶𝑼𝑺 𝑨𝑵𝑫 𝑺𝑻𝑰𝑳𝑳 𝑾𝑰𝑵.   They will only tell you stories where girls are sweet and kind and reject all sin. I guess to them it’s a terrifying thought, a red riding hood   𝑾𝑯𝑶 𝑲𝑵𝑬𝑾 𝑬𝑿𝑨𝑪𝑻𝑳𝒀 𝑾𝑯𝑨𝑻 𝑺𝑯𝑬 𝑾𝑨𝑺 𝑫𝑶𝑰𝑵𝑮 𝑾𝑯𝑬𝑵 𝑺𝑯𝑬 𝑰𝑵𝑽𝑰𝑻𝑬𝑫 𝑻𝑯𝑬 𝑾𝑰𝑳𝑫 𝑰𝑵.          ❞ 

#𝐃𝐑𝐃𝐔𝐌𝐀𝐔𝐑𝐈𝐄𝐑.     independent & selective   𝑩𝑬𝑫𝑬𝑳𝑰𝑨 𝑫𝑼 𝑴𝑨𝑼𝑹𝑰𝑬𝑹   from NBC Hannibal.     analysed by 𝐊𝐨𝐫𝐞 (21+, she/her). promo made by 𝑐𝑎𝑝𝑖𝑡𝑜𝑙ℎ𝑜𝑠𝑡.

[superintcndent]

as the year changes, remember that you, too, are always changing. always growing. always moving. like snowflakes forming a snowbear, you are multifaceted and incredibly, beautifully unique. be proud of yourself for all you are, and all you will become. this little bear is proud of you, too!

this is... wow, such a sweet gesture and an amazing concept to spread around to people within the rpc community as a whole. thank you! sincerely, what a wonderful thing to do. more people need this type of positivity in their lives, especially now during trying times. i know i definitely needed it, so again, thank you.

[perfectionreached]

taissa was the type of person that could never turn down a compliment. an actual smile graces her features as she softly chuckles, mentally having to remind herself that she was here on business. she was going to ask stella to work for her. it was a bold thing to say -- but that's not a negative to taissa. if anything, it makes her more curious. maybe the other woman already knowing who she was could be seen as a red flag ( there was so many rumors out there, she liked to be seen as a blank slate sometimes ) but she can't seem to care. "do you not get free drinks often? oh come on, i find that hard to believe."

she would admit that she's judgmental. often taissa would know seconds into a conversation on if it was worth her time. with some people she could just tell. but there's nothing about this that she hates. "i know who you are, too." she says, that smile still on her face. "it's funny, i was looking to hire a personal inspector. you showed up a few times in my search. now here you are." it's not like she believes in fate. not really. but there was something about it that she couldn't completely ignore. taissa was intrigued more than anything else. about what exactly she wasn't quite sure yet. tai keeps eye contact with stella, holding out her hand to shake. "it's nice to finally meet you." there's no usual fakeness in her tone, instead it's warm and truthful.

[superintcndent]

WHETHER STELLA KNEW ABOUT TAISSA PREVIOUSLY OR NOT didn't really seem to matter - at least, not to Stella specifically during this time frame - she would have found out eventually on her own accord, one way or another. It was part of her nature to look into every individual she associated herself with, regardless of how minor. This encounter would be no different. Little details meant little to nothing in comparison to the overall retrospect of a person's individual psychology and underlining correspondence; how they presented themselves, marriage status, rumors, some information meant more than others. Some meant nothing at all. She's pleased to see the subtle smile that graces Taissa's features as well as the chuckle soon to follow after Stella's bold compliment. Glass of wine set down upon the bar top with fingers playing upon its stem. ❝ It wasn't the wine in itself I was surprised by, only who it came from. ❞ She corrects and for once, she had to internally ask herself that very simple question as to why. But Taissa answers without needing to be properly asked, causing a single brow to arch and lips to part with a simple, ❝ ah. I see. ❞ So, this was strictly professional then, she couldn't very well be surprised by that.

Always a subtle motive underlining pure intentions or at least, from her personal experience when dealing with others. Still, she doesn't mind pleasantries, smirking while extending her own hand out to meet Tai's in greeting. The handshake firm and precise, just like her father always taught her, because a single handshake spoke volumes about a person as a whole, or so he always said. Limp hands meant a bland personality and one without seriousness. ❝ Nice, indeed. So, here I am… what is it you'd like to offer me, Mrs. Turner—? What are you looking for, exactly? ❞

[superintcndent]

@afraidofchange (reed) sent: * 97﹕ sender  has  hidden  an  injury  from  receiver ,  and  receiver  finds  out .

IT WAS EASY TO SLIP THROUGH THE CRACKS of detection as she made her way through the morgue, not that she needed such discretion, but Stella had a one-tracked mind that kept her focused. There was no time for distractions or side conversations that might sway initial intentions in regard to her overall presence there and she's here to see one person, and one person only. The moment she walks into Reed Smith's office, hands remain secure within the confines of her coat pockets, and she's already pacing, ❝ he's fucking with us. I know he is, I can smell it, taste it even. He thinks we can't see what's right in front of us. ❞ Typical man, she thinks, a heavy scoff following almost every gust of breath as head shakes in near disbelief. ❝ Please tell me you have something on… ❞ but then she stops when head turns to finally actually look at the Pathologist she's come to see. Lips slowly coming to part when she takes note of the obvious wince that makes its presence known upon the other's face. All of a sudden, frustrations grow into concern, practically rushing herself over towards the opposite side of Reed's desk in an automatic response. ❝ What is it—? What's wrong? ❞ But she doesn't wait for the other to answer before she's already attempting to help remove the sides of the woman's blazer out of the way to get a better look.

❝ You're hurt, what happened? ❞ It's a complete shift in demeanor between how she came into the office and now, tone softened while perching herself upon the edge of the desk.

[perfectionreached]

she had to get out of the house. there became a point where the routine of making coffee, working out, meetings, sitting in an empty house, and no sleep was starting to make her feel like she was losing her mind more than she already was. isolating herself and throwing herself into her work was easy. taissa needed a break for once. buying the other a drink had been calculated, of course. a casual way to satiate some kind of curiosity without coming on too strong.

she knew who stella was. vaguely. after the vandalism incident (nobody ever had to know that she was the one who had done that) workers on her campaign had urged her to hire a personal inspector just to have on the back burner, in case anything like that happened again. for safety and piece of mind. taissa had done minor research, debating whether or not to go through the process of letting another person into her life. it was pure fate that she had been in the same place as the other woman.

eyes watch as stella glances towards her, a look of surprise when she's suddenly beside taissa. she sits up a little straighter, shaking her head. "no, it's all yours." tai gestures toward the seat before she takes another sip of her own drink, a small smile on her face. "you looked like you needed it." she says, in reference to the drink she had ordered for the other. "hope you didn't mind."

[superintcndent]

STELLA UNDERSTANDS THAT SUBTLE NEED TO BE TAKEN OUT of personal isolations, even if perhaps just for a moment. She does it herself when she can, allowing the surroundings of menial constructs of day to day living within public surroundings just to get a sense of knowing that you're not entirely alone. It's the aesthetic that remains appealing and she chooses her company, if any at all, very carefully. She trusts, Taissa is the type to do the same and so, she doesn't take this interaction lightly or without some appreciative recognition. ❝ Thank you. ❞ Gratitude provided in relation to the drink as well as the offered seat once she's finally situated beside the other woman. ❝ Not at all, though I will say, I was pleasantly surprised. ❞ Pleasantly, a bit of an understatement if she was being completely honest with herself. It isn't such a rarity that she's been on the receiving end of a free drink in passing, but it was rare for Stella to acknowledge it as forefront as she was now. More so especially since the inclination came from another woman, and not just any woman: but Taissa Turner. ❝ Stella Gibson, ❞ she begins to introduce herself, ❝ Superintendent Gibson, more formally. I'll admit, I know who you are Mrs. Turner, from the papers at least and I must say… the photos don't do you enough justice. ❞

There's a hint of a smirk that begins to curl, bringing the rim of glass in hand towards her lips and letting the wine slip over her tongue, allowing it to settle. A bold statement, certainly, but she means it wholeheartedly as a simple compliment.

[superintcndent]

❝ 𝓁ℴ𝓋ℯ, I have wounds ℴ𝓃𝓁𝓎 𝓎ℴ𝓊 can mend, I guess that's love I can't pretend, I can't pretend. ❞ - x

[musesofhororr-deactivated202406]

Hannibal had been 'treating' Stella Gibson for sometime now. He knew her inside and out by now and yet he had no idea how she tasted. Her flush, Hannibal imagine it tasting like nothing else he ever had before. But pushing those thoughts away, Hannibal got ready for his next meeting with the blonde. His eyes carefully watched her every moment.

"Good evening Stella." He said softly while taking a hold of his notebook and pen. "You are early tonight. Is everything all right?" For a moment he looked down at his notebook to see where they had left off the last time the two of them seen each other. Then he looked back at Stella.

"Would you like a glass a water before we pick up from last time?" Hannibal asked then got up to pour himself some water. "Has the medicine been helping with your panic attacks and sleeping? If not I could give you something else to try." He said softly while he looked at Stella once more.

@superintcndent

[superintcndent]

HEELS DRAGGED, THOUGH ONLY SLIGHTLY AND STILL WITH A PRECISION that demonstrated every ounce of poise within the entirety of her demeanor as she entered into the room. Both hands secure in the pockets of her coat; she doesn't need to glance about the space surrounding them, already having her fair share of examinations since previous visits allowed though she has to admit, the architecture always still seemed to catch her breath. ❝ Good evening. ❞ She greets in turn, always polite in his presence. He seemed to always appreciate that, not that she was ever without her finer qualities as a natural construct. Removing her coat, she places it upon the back of her chair as per usual before taking the seat opposite him, one leg casually crossing over the other and hands folded idly in her lap. A deep inhalation of breath and perhaps that small indication gives way her away to the fact that she doesn't actually want to be there. Not because of him, but because she has a lot of work to do. These several hours spent in his company was taking away from precious time that could have been spent on more important matters and yet, these sessions were deemed necessary ever since the Spector case had unraveled. ❝ Quite the question. ❞ Though not at all uncommon. She does however, nod in recognition of the offer for some water, ❝ please. ❞ Would she have even needed to be there at all if everything was all right—? She wants to ask, but doesn't, knowing the rhetorical inquiry would be just as easily dismissed as her acknowledgement of it.

❝ I will admit, it has been a while since my panic attacks have surfaced, but I am still having some trouble sleeping. The nightmares have seemed to… increase, actually. ❞

[perfectionreached]

it was like she came to her senses once the door was opened, her eyebrows furrowing almost in confusion. it was like it hit her all at once. it wasn't even an assumption that she had been sleepwalking until now, she knew she had been. the last couple hours of her life had to have been missing now. and of course she ended up somewhere that she shouldn't be. taissa wipes the confusion off her face, a soft smile replacing it as she walks inside. what was she supposed to do, turn around and go back home? she had to be committed to her lie. taissa had to act like this didn't scare her out of her mind. why did her other self bring her here?

"i was just in the neighborhood," she starts off, trying to sound as casual as possible. oh yeah, a late night walk? that's normal enough. people did that. this wasn't weird. she glances towards stella, an apologetic look on her face. "sorry for the timing, i don't think i realized it was this late. if you'd rather me go, i can leave you to sleep and we can discuss the campaign tomorrow." of course she's avoiding the question on if everything is alright, instead pivoting to someone that always felt safer ... work. "you're probably exhausted."

[superintcndent]

THERE WAS A CLEAR DISTINCTION OF CONFUSION that had wafted over Taissa's features like a fragrance she didn't enjoy, uncertain of her surroundings and it's what pushes Stella forward just enough to place a single hand upon the other's shoulder blade in order to help guide her into the house. Naturally, she doesn't believe the initial explanation, but doesn't argue against it either with further questioning or at least, not for now. Not when there seemed to be a clear underlining distinction that somehow put Taissa Turner at her doorstep regardless of whether the woman wanted to admit the truth of it or not. First thing first was to simply ensure the other's safety. Eyes glancing around momentarily before she too steps back inside the household, shutting the door behind her and locking it for good measure ( also, out of pure habit ). Arms crossing over her chest, a heavy sigh of breath soon to follow while looking in Taissa's direction while shaking her head in dismissal, ❝ no… it's alright. ❞ She says and it's true. ❝ I was actually working on the notes for tomorrow's meeting. Please… ❞ a small gesture as she's taking the necessary steps towards the kitchen now, ❝ can I get you anything to drink? Water, — some wine? ❞

There's an open bottle of red already perched upon the small island top next to a poured glass she'd secured for herself prior to Tai's arrival. Yes, she was exhausted, but that was beside the point. She's always exhausted and the uninvited company was honestly welcomed despite the late hour. ❝ Is that what you came here to discuss? The campaign? ❞ She has a hard time believing that, but it seemed an appropriate question just the same.

[silencedrage]

The woman's light accent throws her off for a moment and her brows furrow when she mentions that she's with the Metropolitan Police. Lottie isn't sure what jurisdiction exactly that department has, but she's pretty certain that it's not anything in the United States. Her curiosity keeps her listening initially, but it's Stella's warmth and sincerity that gives her a moment's pause. Lottie is used to these interviews, information gathering exercises where people are more interested in rooting around in her brain than actually helping her parse through what is happening.

But what stuns her the most is that the staff is actually abiding by Stella's request, and she realizes just now they haven't had an orderly come by to check on them, despite the fact that Lottie's been in the room for longer than fifteen minutes. Her shoulders relax a fraction of an inch but gives no other indication other than a single nod of acknowledgment.

She absently wonders how large her case file must be at this point, an inelegant assortment of psychiatrists' notes and social worker reports and the odd newspaper or magazine clipping. All a bird's eye view of who Charlotte Matthews is, or at least, who they think she is. Granted, she's never had the opportunity to actually read her file and the details of what her doctors truly think about her, but she can imagine. It probably paints a vividly morbid picture of her life, with conclusions drawn between here and Mars though something about the way Stella looks at her still feels different from the state troopers that had marched into the facility a week ago.

"All right, I suppose what you have to discuss must be important if you're willing to ask for that." Dark eyes sweep upward and she holds the inspector's gaze calmly, with nothing to hide. "I wasn't aware I had done anything that would warrant a trip from international authorities."

[superintcndent]

CONSIDERING THE HISTORY OF CONSISTENT BERATING Charlotte's no doubt had to endure throughout the majority of her life, Stella's insistence that they be given some privacy during their conversations is entirely deliberate. She knows that the other woman will not willingly cooperate the way Stella needs her to if she doesn't feel comfortable enough to do so and prying eyes will only add to the overwhelming anxiety that the Superintendent intends to abolish however means necessary, and with much ease as possible. They will be watched, there was no way of getting around some supervision, but all audio was strictly confiscated, allowing each of them to speak as they pleased. It's a luxury she's taken full advantage of in this circumstance and she's able to do so because of her status if nothing more. A risk, but one to be dealt with at a later time. Charlotte's nod in acknowledgment is silently responded with one of her own and a gentle hum of gratitude. There is a case file now set down between them on the table and Stella reaches towards it, slowly, but doesn't open it. Not yet. Instead, she simply places a hand upon the top of it. ❝ You haven't, not to our knowledge at least, but we need to be certain. Or rather, I do. If you were under investigation for why I'm here as a whole then the outcome of this situation would be vastly different from what I've been able to allow. However, I want you to know that I'm not here to discuss your history, nor your compound. I'm not even here to ask you about what happened that night when Natalie Scatorccio was found dead from a drug overdose on your personal grounds. What I am here for, is in relation to Adam Martin as well as Officer Kevyn Tan, who was soon also found dead at the scene. Is there anything you can tell me about their deaths—? Tan, specifically. ❞

She's almost hopeful that Lottie might be able to give her something, but there's a thought in the back of her head that already seems to know she'd be getting nowhere.

[silencedrage]

Every time she's told that someone has come to talk to her, a part of her perks up, wondering if Tai or Van are actually keeping their promise to come visit, and that part is inevitably disappointed when it's just another psychiatrist who looks at her with those pitying, dismissive eyes. Each moment passes in a familiar haze, made up of medications and dissociation, and it's all Lottie can do to stay present enough to answer the never-ending stream of questions pointed her way. Either it's doctors or nurses or other medical professionals, or police and their inquiries into what happened that night. She responds to them to the best of her ability, trying to swim through the murky depths of her brain.

Once again, she is led to one of the private rooms that they use for "discussions" that end up more like interrogations, and she waits. The only sign of any anxiety is her fingers fidgeting slightly against each other, but to anyone else, she still looks the very picture of poise. Straight spine, demure expression on her face, the Matthews mask perfected over so many years. When the door finally opens, a stranger walks in, though there's something about this woman that feels different than the others who've come to see her. She doesn't know what exactly, but Lottie sits up just a little straighter and folds her hands together on the table in front of her.

"Good afternoon," she greets the other woman softly, nodding to the chair on the other side of the table. "How can I help you today?" // plotted starter for @superintcndent

[superintcndent]

CASE FILE: CHARLOTTE MATTHEWS. She's shifted through the pages of the woman's file every which way and in every capacity one could do, to the point that each edge was now clearly worn and slightly torn. Not to mention the online profiles that have been not so easily accessed with personal records and account details securely locked. Stella's done just as much work as she would any other and yet, this particular circumstance feels somewhat different than the rest, regardless of the vague conspiracy that surrounds it. Something seemed off; misconstrued, not properly diagnosed outside of an automatic speculation that causes brows to furrow. By the time she reaches the states, she's quick to ensure her presence at the institution in order to meet the woman in question first hand and get the story straightened out. A woman who'd already been through countless interrogations and assessments enough within a single lifetime that could account to many. There was enough to be said about that alone. But Stella isn't buying it, not in its entirety or at least, not because of Charlotte. Nor does she feel the need to be just another pariah like all of the others. No, she wants to be able to hear each side and get all the gritty details as best as possible because she's seen every side from both aspects before in previous circumstances and what seemed obvious at times, didn't always equal the full truth. So, by the time Stella Gibson steps into the room, she's pleasantly not-so-surprised by the poised presence that sits upright behind the stainless steeled table, greeting her as if she'd just walked into the other woman's home. There's a slight cant to her head, a subtle form of a smile at the corner of Stella's lips as she walks forward to the silently offered seat opposite. ❝ Miss Matthews. ❞ She herself greets, cordially, while taking a seat in the process.

❝ My name is Stella Gibson, I'm a Superintendent with the Metropolitan Police. I can only imagine how many routine check-ups you've endured during your stay here and I would like this one to be vastly different than the rest, if possible. I'm not here to interrogate you, I'm not here to berate you. I've asked all staff of the institution not to be present during our time together, so everything you say can and will be confidential between our inquiries with one another. Is that alright with you? ❞