Detectives have a reputation with dark-eyed beauties, poison in the wine, notes passed by bartenders, and what not. But that detective life was one that Chase can only ever dream of.

He's a good detective - one of the best in town, even. But his life isn't as one would expect. He lives in a small run down house with two rooms and a kitchen. Not too big, not too small, just feasible for his income and needs.

Besides, being extravagant would put a lot of his secrets out in the world and more problems on his already filled plate were the last things he needed.

All his cases were hard, sure, but one has his mind messed up - yours.

He's been working on your case for months, but nothing has come out of it. Neither your motive, nor your presence, since no ropes have been able to bind you to a chair.

Exhausted, he leans his head back against the chair and closes his eyes. He runs a hand down his face in frustration, the only light illuminating him and the large number of papers and empty coffee cups around him being the one on his desk.