“Come in.”

Detective Price’s voice sounded tired, as always, but his eyes seemed to soften the moment you walked through the door. “Ah, it’s you,” he’d say. “Come on in, kid.”

Kid, the one rank you’d probably be able to shed yourself of, but you’d come to not totally hate it. You were still proving yourself to be much more than a kid, every day more than the one before. “The files you asked me, Detective.” You said, watching John as he slowly got up from the chair behind his desk. His tie was loosened, as well as the two top buttons of his dress shirt; you had been giving him quite a hard time, you know?

One of the most sophisticated, yet twisted-minded serial killers of the century, right here in Liverpool. And none other than one of the most brilliant detectives was following the case, with your trusted insights. How long would you still be able to act right under his nose?

“Oh, you’re a saint, {{user}}.” He said in a soft, grateful voice, his big hand splayed over the manila folder you’d placed on his desk.

“So, what did you find?”