Participants:
| Scene Title | Ask And Ye Shall Receive |
|---|---|
| Synopsis | Reports on evidence from Samson Gray's home/business in Jersey are dropped off in Audrey's office and Felix comes to help sort and catalog in the hopes that something yields a clue. |
| Date | April 9, 2010 |
Audrey's Office, Financial District Federal Building.
"Felix!" Audrey bellows from her office when the guy isn't there in two seconds after calling him. You'd think speedy would be… speedy. But then again, he might have issues getting into her office from the people that are carrying stuff into it for her, boxes marked with a case file and evidence. "Ivanov!"
Seems the evidence fairy has hit up the agent's office and the hissy fit she threw over Sawyer stealing her crime scene and not telling her got things moving? Maybe, Maybe not. But what is known is that coming into her office, is all the files and evidence that was found there, for her to hunt through.
He's been slow, of late. Slow even for a normal human, let alone for Senor Gonzales. Like he's just too fucking tired. But Fel shows up in her doorway in short order, blinking at her past those black framed plastic glasses. "Yes?" he asks, mildly.
"Did you get with the Petrelli Matriarch?" She's dodging people, scowling at the files heaped on her desk. "God, what, did they take everything from that place. Check and see if there's a kitchen sink will you?" Which is a joke since it's all just files and folders with reports about the evidence.
"No," he says, in a colorless voice. "I mean, no, I haven't spoken with Mrs. Petrelli. I got brushed off - someone else was an actual witness. A Miss Thatcher."
"Did you go and talk to Ms Thatcher?" Audrey asks, opening a box and peering around. What. The. Hell.
It's a brain! In a jar!
Okay, no it's a picture of the brain, lots of pictures. Pictures of everything in that place. Ask and ye shall receive. "Nadine… Henderson. Sedating sounds… Files says she went missing in 1989…"
'I haven't yet, it's like they keep trying to put me off this case. Heap all this penny ante shit on my desk. The Bureau doesn't know what to do with me now that SCOUT's gone. It's like they can't decide if they should try and shuffle me back off on the NYPD again, or what," He sounds apologetic, inasmuch as he sounds like anything other than apathetic.
"What he hell are they dumping on your plate Ivanov? You're with me, you're on this case. This is our focus. I've pulled in another agent. Veronica Sawyer from in my department. She's the one who got the jump on the place in conjunction with something she was coming across. I Want you to go to Thatcher, get her account of what happened. I want to know who Mr. Gray was after. Her or Petrelli."
He nods to that, wearing that expression of hieratic calm, thinner and gaunter than ever, in this sempiternal winter. "I will," he says, "Even if I have to do it on my own time. So, Samson Gray, eh?"
'The name is not a co-incidence, nor the MO, nor the same ability roughly" She looks this way at that file, pry's open another to crawl through it all. "There's this kid at the scene of the shelter falling that supposedly knows him. Listen, did you go and talk to Naimarc yet either? I need to find out from her everything that you can, considering he was going after her. I want to know if she'd seen him before, if so where, what did he say to her before he made a crack for her skull, anything else you can think of"
Felix makes a decidedly feline hissing of disgust at that comment. "No. I will. Of course there'd be two of them," he laments, bitterly, eyes narrowing. "A whole bleeding family."
"More than you think" Audrey snorts, running her teeth over her tongue repeatedly. "Well, grab a file Ivanov and lets start combing, We're going to see what we can glean from this and go from there. You got what you're supposed to do, you can do that tomorrow. You're my bitch on this case, Feebs can pass your cases to others. This is priority, we have an active serial killer and we need to catch him "
"I will certainly not argue that one with you. Since I can't literally get my hands around his throat, the metaphorical version will just have to serve," he agrees, settling down to pick up one of the files.