@creatorofclay | Kamski’s House | November 2038
The room that Chloe let him in had an unnatural aura to it. It felt even more hollow and cavelike than on the first time Hank had been there now that Connor wasn’t there to fill the space with... He had to clear his throat to stop that thought. 'Life’ was what he’d been going for, but of course, his partner was hardly alive in any meaningful sense. Animated, perhaps. It was getting harder and harder to remember that.
The thought stung uncomfortably. Hank had never wanted this partnership, and the way he’d grown so awfully content within it proved the point - it wasn’t what he needed. Quite the opposite, it was damaging to him. And who cared about that? No one; the case was all that mattered. Even to him, or perhaps especially to him, more and more each day as it kept dredging up things he didn’t want to think about. Now these thoughts caught up to him every time in places like Kamski’s foyer. Everything in there was so sleek and superficial, artistic in that empty way rich people liked it. Perhaps its soullessness felt comforting to them, as they could find themselves in it, but Hank could feel his skin crawling as he seated himself in the chair again to wait.
The city couldn’t reach him here. The wind couldn’t, the snow couldn’t. It was like stepping inside an alternate reality completely detached from the real world, where the backdrop of Detroit was nothing but an illusion provided to keep the mind sane within the silence.
