❄ it's quiet and the snow's beautiful tonight → a winter open meme
‧ post with whatever character you want ‧ responders roll for weather + scenario and get to threading ‧ ??? ‧ profit
snowfall;
stage i; none, streets are already blanketed in white. stage ii; very light and intermittent. stage iii; light - moderate. lasts longer periods. stage iv; continuous, heavy snowfall. stage v; the hardest of cores - blizzards, snowstorms, you name it.
scenarios;
① fuck the police, this is the best time for a walk. hope you've got a nice thick coat on.
② stranded in the buttcrack of nowheresville? weren't you watching the time? now you've gone and missed that last bus out of there. or maybe you're lost, somehow. what do?
③ literally chilling, in this weather, is quite easy to do. sitting around relaxing in it is a wee more difficult, but sometimes much more enjoyable, especially if shelter can be found. the snow is beautiful to watch, after all.
④ the weather's not going to stop you. your snow fort's packed full of ammo and ready to go. those aren't snow angels over there; they mark where the poor souls you've downed have fallen. be careful with that snowman's head!!
⑤ you're about fifty miles from civilization but there's a roof over your head, so never mind the chilly draught, right? right. you mightn't be the only one lucky enough to stumble upon this little shelter, though. remember to share the blanket.
⑥ everyone stuck outside should be jelly. you've got a fireplace and hot cocoa and damn if it isn't awesome. a heater's not quite so romantic, but it'd do. there'd better be a backup generator in case the power trips.
[Of all the nights to be snowed in. Tonight... tonight was supposed to be special. Dexter had been preparing for weeks-- picking out a playmate, careful research, diligent stalking. But now, thanks to something as trivial as the damn weather, Dexter was stuck snowed into the office-- with a stranger, no less.
It wasn't the gentleman's fault Dexter's fun had been taken away, and as such, the cheery sociopath tried to be his usual pleasant cheery self. But by god did he ever feel pent up.]
Well, I hope you didn't have anything important planned tonight.
[His smile was so very convincing-- Dexter had worked long and hard to learn to imitate human emotion. He peered through the blinds for another moment, disapproving and-- and something, before turning his friendly gaze to the stranger, giving him a proper look over.]
no idea what i'm doing, apologies in advance, feel free to correct me on anything.
Ah, no. [Sherlock wasn't inclined to make small talk unless he was after something.] Not in particular.
[Mostly uninterested, he looked away from the man at the window (in his thirties) (non-smoker) (fingernails clean enough to indicate a compulsion). The office was disappointingly empty right now. From what he could tell, most of the employees left earlier in the day when they learned of the incoming inclement weather.
Not this one, though.
His eyes flicked back to check. Dexter Morgan, according to the man's ID badge. Forensic technician.
This evening Sherlock was supposed to meet with someone else--a detective who requested his input on a particularly problematic case. Serial killer. What a treat. He had earned some international acclaim after a few high-profile cases, so it made sense. He wouldn't be much of a consulting detective if he didn't consult.
Bad news: his contact was nowhere to be found. Probably skipped out hours ago to avoid the snow. So much for professionalism.
Sighing silently, he tapped the manila folder in his hands against the check-in counter. He straightened the documents within while considering his options. If he was stuck here until the weather let up, maybe he could find someone else to chat with about the case. And who better than the (impatient) (why?) (rewind: "I hope you didn't have anything important") forensic technician standing nearby? (What could go wrong?)
So, completely out of nowhere, Sherlock said,] The Bay Harbor Butcher. Have you heard of him?
Edited (oh wait this should be in past tense to match) 2014-07-05 05:22 (UTC)
[Dexter prides himself on meeting most situations with good cheer and good humor, so he doesn't take it too personally when the stranger doesn't pay him much mind. He's probably distracted with human things, Dexter reasons, and idly begins to wonder if the doughnut box he'd brought in earlier that day had any morsels left.
He'd been just on the verge of getting up to conduct a search, when the other man speaks again.
Dexter pays very little attention to when his exploits make the news (that was just egotistical, and stupid, to boot) but he is aware of the name given to him by the media. Butcher is appropriate, he thinks, and hardly things on it beyond that. Still, he is slightly surprised when Sherlock speaks up about it.]
I live here, it would take some incredible idiocy for me not to have heard of him.
[Dexter remarks with a placid smile, too-blue eyes going to the folder in the man's hands. Called in to take a look, perhaps? Interesting.]
Plenty of people don't pay attention to their local news. Had to check.
[To the masses, a serial killer just can't compare to what Kim Kardashian ate for breakfast. (Thank you, Twitter.) (Ever a source of inspiration for the human species.) It's why Sherlock finds Mr. Dexter Morgan's answer to be encouraging as much as it is intriguing. Obviously this man considers himself to not be a complete idiot. Is that an outlook borne of confidence, arrogance, or common sense? Sherlock doesn't know. Maybe he's going to find out.]
What do you think of him?
[It's a simple question, albeit directionless. He's not looking for a particular answer. There's nothing judgmental about his steady gaze (but it is analytical, and he'll be analyzing every last syllable). Serial killers can be celebrities or scoundrels depending on what they've done and how they've done it.
Even Sherlock has to admit there are murderers he has sympathized with over the years. When the "victims" themselves were unconscionably horrible creatures--well, some people do deserve an eye for an eye as punishment. The less chance for them to inflict pain on others, the better. The world is not black and white by any means.
However, as a detective on the side of the law, Sherlock must not resort to a vigilante style of justice. He cannot give into the chaos, no matter how alluring it is.]
A fair point, but my job means it would take an exception level of incompetence
[He's faultlessly friendly, as always. He'd been asked that question before, and settled into what he thought was an appropriately thoughtful frown of disturbed concern. A very good act, he congratulated himself.]
He's a monster, quite obviously.
[Truth.]
The tricky thing is we've only discovered a few of his victims, and his disposal method seems to change. He's careful, never leaving behind any forensic evidence, so I imagine we won't have any luck, there. As far as I understand it, no one has any idea who he'll strike next.
[Of course Dexter knew very well, but he didn't think it quite politic to say so. He only targeted killers (accidents and rule bending was bound to happen to anyone, were they not?) but the media had yet to pick up that little morsel, because some of his victims were never discovered.]
With his victims, there's always so little blood, too. Doesn't make much use of my expertise.
[Another perfectly cultivated frown of soft self depreciation.]
![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png)
estivates) wrote in ![[community profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/community.png)
bakerstreet2014-06-15 10:48 pm
no subject
It wasn't the gentleman's fault Dexter's fun had been taken away, and as such, the cheery sociopath tried to be his usual pleasant cheery self. But by god did he ever feel pent up.]
Well, I hope you didn't have anything important planned tonight.
[His smile was so very convincing-- Dexter had worked long and hard to learn to imitate human emotion. He peered through the blinds for another moment, disapproving and-- and something, before turning his friendly gaze to the stranger, giving him a proper look over.]
no idea what i'm doing, apologies in advance, feel free to correct me on anything.
[Mostly uninterested, he looked away from the man at the window (in his thirties) (non-smoker) (fingernails clean enough to indicate a compulsion). The office was disappointingly empty right now. From what he could tell, most of the employees left earlier in the day when they learned of the incoming inclement weather.
Not this one, though.
His eyes flicked back to check. Dexter Morgan, according to the man's ID badge. Forensic technician.
This evening Sherlock was supposed to meet with someone else--a detective who requested his input on a particularly problematic case. Serial killer. What a treat. He had earned some international acclaim after a few high-profile cases, so it made sense. He wouldn't be much of a consulting detective if he didn't consult.
Bad news: his contact was nowhere to be found. Probably skipped out hours ago to avoid the snow. So much for professionalism.
Sighing silently, he tapped the manila folder in his hands against the check-in counter. He straightened the documents within while considering his options. If he was stuck here until the weather let up, maybe he could find someone else to chat with about the case. And who better than the (impatient) (why?) (rewind: "I hope you didn't have anything important") forensic technician standing nearby? (What could go wrong?)
So, completely out of nowhere, Sherlock said,] The Bay Harbor Butcher. Have you heard of him?
This is awesome, no worries :D
He'd been just on the verge of getting up to conduct a search, when the other man speaks again.
Dexter pays very little attention to when his exploits make the news (that was just egotistical, and stupid, to boot) but he is aware of the name given to him by the media. Butcher is appropriate, he thinks, and hardly things on it beyond that. Still, he is slightly surprised when Sherlock speaks up about it.]
I live here, it would take some incredible idiocy for me not to have heard of him.
[Dexter remarks with a placid smile, too-blue eyes going to the folder in the man's hands. Called in to take a look, perhaps? Interesting.]
apologies, rough month
[To the masses, a serial killer just can't compare to what Kim Kardashian ate for breakfast. (Thank you, Twitter.) (Ever a source of inspiration for the human species.) It's why Sherlock finds Mr. Dexter Morgan's answer to be encouraging as much as it is intriguing. Obviously this man considers himself to not be a complete idiot. Is that an outlook borne of confidence, arrogance, or common sense? Sherlock doesn't know. Maybe he's going to find out.]
What do you think of him?
[It's a simple question, albeit directionless. He's not looking for a particular answer. There's nothing judgmental about his steady gaze (but it is analytical, and he'll be analyzing every last syllable). Serial killers can be celebrities or scoundrels depending on what they've done and how they've done it.
Even Sherlock has to admit there are murderers he has sympathized with over the years. When the "victims" themselves were unconscionably horrible creatures--well, some people do deserve an eye for an eye as punishment. The less chance for them to inflict pain on others, the better. The world is not black and white by any means.
However, as a detective on the side of the law, Sherlock must not resort to a vigilante style of justice. He cannot give into the chaos, no matter how alluring it is.]
Same :/ computer died, also bedbugs >_<
[He's faultlessly friendly, as always. He'd been asked that question before, and settled into what he thought was an appropriately thoughtful frown of disturbed concern. A very good act, he congratulated himself.]
He's a monster, quite obviously.
[Truth.]
The tricky thing is we've only discovered a few of his victims, and his disposal method seems to change. He's careful, never leaving behind any forensic evidence, so I imagine we won't have any luck, there. As far as I understand it, no one has any idea who he'll strike next.
[Of course Dexter knew very well, but he didn't think it quite politic to say so. He only targeted killers (accidents and rule bending was bound to happen to anyone, were they not?) but the media had yet to pick up that little morsel, because some of his victims were never discovered.]
With his victims, there's always so little blood, too. Doesn't make much use of my expertise.
[Another perfectly cultivated frown of soft self depreciation.]
I wish we had more to go on.