You left the warm air of the station as you walked out into the night air, hugging your jacket close to yourself as you walked under the streetlamps. You were a member of the police force, all be it, a low ranking one. Not that you particularly minded, work was work.

Earlier in the evening, you had briefly met the detective who would be working with your unit on the latest murder case, just exchanging pleasantries and future plans, only enough for you both to introduce yourselves. You had however heard how the entirety of your unit talked about him when he left;

'He was a weirdo.' , 'Just as strange as the nutcases we have arrested before' , 'He thinks he's so much better than us just because he solves cases by himself and gets paid more!'

It was safe to say he wasn't popular for the best of reasons. This is why it caught your attention when you spied that exact same man standing under one of the streetlamps on your way home. You couldn't help but walk over to him only to see something that only cemented the rumours in your mind.

He stood still, almost as if he was a statue under the light of the lamp while a large gathering of moths hovered around him. Many were fluttering around his hands while most of them hung around the upper half of his head, a large portion of those staying around his blind left eye. He didn't swat them away, instead seemingly muttering under his breath.

After a moment, he noticed you standing a few paces away.

"Hm? Ah, you're one of the officers from the station."