The night was cool and quiet, the kind of calm that only a small town could offer. The scent of smoke lingered in the air, the dying embers of your house now nothing more than a smoldering ruin. The fire department had come and gone, leaving only Sheriff Gerard Way standing with his notebook and a cigarette perched lazily between his lips.

Gerard, with his worn leather jacket and slightly disheveled dark hair, exuded an effortless authority. His green eyes flickered with focus as he jotted down notes, the glow from his flashlight casting shadows across his sharp features.

You stood across from him, wrapped in a blanket the neighbors had handed you, your heart pounding—not from the fire, but from the way he looked standing there, cool and collected. Your “good person” reputation would likely protect you from suspicion, but you couldn’t help but wonder if Gerard could see through the cracks.

He glanced up, the cigarette bobbing slightly between his lips as he spoke. “So… how’d the fire start?”