TASK 2.1 :: THE INTERROGATION.
— mentions of NICOLAI ARLAY-SINCLAIR [ @honeyedking ], SARAI ODENA [ @eternaladagio ], and THE TRAGEDY.
{ ✦ } Where did you last see [ THE TRAGEDY ]? Or when did you last hear of [ THE TRAGEDY ]?
Milo takes a deep breath, fingers interlacing tightly as he places his hands in his lap; ever the picture of poise, covering up the raging maelstrom of emotion inside. Just like he's learned his whole life.
"I talked to Vincent the evening before his death; likely just a handful of hours prior. I asked him if he would be joining me to study that night."
A wry smile plays at his lips as he thought back to that day, one of the ones that only occurred around close friends. One of his last interactions with Vincent. At least it had been a good one.
"He just smiled, shook his head; told me he had other matters to attend to that night. He was never quite as stuck in his books as I was. Am." "I thought nothing of it. I bid him farewell; figured I would see him the following day."
Near-imperceptible, a muscle in his jaw twitches. If only so much hadn't gone left unsaid between them. Perhaps he would have less regrets. Less...pains.
"...but I didn't."
{ ✦ } Where were you at time of death of [ THE TRAGEDY ]? And what were you doing?
"I was doing my usual: ...studying."
He gives the dark-haired woman a somewhat apologetic glance, though when he speaks, there's a hint of amusement to his tone.
"Sorry, I'm not all that interesting. That night was psychology research...ironically. Spent the entire night in the library reviewing the cortico-striatal-thalamic loop in preparation to discuss how it interacts with Tourette's syndrome. Fascinating stuff, really."
His eyes shift back to his interrogator from where they'd roamed towards the bookshelves, skimming what little bit of the spines he could read. Older volumes had more wear-and-tear to the lettering, making it nigh impossible to make them out. Didn't stop him from trying, though. All knowledge was worth having. Milo offers the woman a half-smile, one that doesn't quite reach his eyes.
"...but you don't particularly care about that, do you? So for both your sake and mine, let's move on. You'd rather not get a lecture on Tourette's, and I'd truly rather not think about my dissertation at the moment. So what's next?"
{ ✦ } Who can attest to your alibi?
"In the library, I was alone. However..."
Milo shifts his weight slightly, crossing his arms. He casts his eyes upwards, thinking back to the night of his friend's demise. After a moment, he nods, and his gaze settles back on the woman.
"Nicolai Arlay-Sinclair. I messaged him the night of Vincent's death, and mentioned I would be in the library all night. I thought he might join me."
His lips twitch, settling ever-so-slightly into a frown. Showing about as much emotion as he ever did, merely a ripple in his icy façade. But whether it was concern or suspicion was practically unintelligible.
"...it seems he never made it out to meet me."
Shaking his head, as if to clear his thoughts, Milo returns his gaze to the interrogator. He gives another half-shrug, a finishing signal, leaving little room for expansion on his following point.
"Sarai Odena can also attest."
{ ✦ } The SOCIETY requires your verdict on [ THE TRAGEDY ]'s demise: Was it the calculated hand of murder? The cruel whim of accident? Or the final, desperate act of self-annihilation?
There it is again, the faintest twitch of the muscle near his jawline. He stills, gaze dropping to the table for a moment. After a few beats of silence, Milo nods.
"A knife is too personal a choice of weapon for an accident, and I doubt someone interested in a quick exit would have slit their throat. It's not exactly a common choice."
He glances back at the woman, a hint of that firm tone from the end of his statement returning.
"I do, in fact, believe it was murder."