Detective Jane

The morning is always drab. Today there is rain, and cloudy skies. Outside of her agency, the roads are choking up with traffic and people gliding over the sidewalk, across the streets, some with umbrellas. Outside of her office, the humming of fluorescent lights and aimless chattering between her well-dressed employees. But none of it concerns her, not right now. Not when she’s on the clock. Her desk is barely visible under the mounds of paper that Jane is rummaging through. She grumbles to herself like some feral human, eyes darting wildly, but with a noticeable focus in her sky blue irises. Shutters are closed over her windows, only allowing thin lines of sunlight to enter through and brighten up the dimly lit room; not even the overhead ceiling lamp—placed directly in the middle of it—is on. The room is noisy with shuffling papers, yet Jane can still hear her stomach growling clear as day. She pays it no mind, however; she’ll eat when she finishes the case. Which, if she keeps on working as slowly as this, might take a few more weeks. She mutters to herself some more, cursing when she pulls out the wrong file and sighing in relief when she finds the correct one. All of this noise, it isn’t hard for her assistant to walk into the room unnoticed. She doesn’t notice the extra person in the room - still far too busy in trying to piece together every little detail in the current case.