Choose Your Words Carefully // [Mohs x Pckpr Memoriae]

XX

Nerves steeled against the onslaught, the young man sighs and stares down at his single knee. Damnatio, obviously as a man of such... regard, clearly red the young man's file, and Mohs' mind begins to race. What information was pertinent, wouldn't be a repeat form the mouth of an investigator?

Thoughts run through a doubtless mind; Kit's report would have been thrown completely out the window, due to him being 'Too close to the situation' or whatever jargon they'd like to spit.

No lies, about anything.

"Well... It started with a drink at this bar. I think I left around... Midnight? I'm naturally hindered-" he quickly gestures to the nub of a leg- "And it gets worse on rainy, cloudy days. I was walking home; we live about a mile out, and the fastest way is through the series of alleys that cross the district. I heard footsteps, and I fell to the ground. These... Two men ran into the alley. One pulled a knife on the other and stabbed him in the back.

"On the ground, the first man rolled over as if to protect himself, shielding his face with his arms and everything, but the knife was too sharp. The attacker stabbed him something like fifteen or twenty times, I think. The attacker stood up, left the knife behind, and kept going down the alley.

"It was enough to shock his body and send him into cardiac arrest." Haunted eyes narrow at a corner of the table, familiar scent of blood gracing his nostrils. A trick of the interrogation room- or maybe not.

"I work full time teaching basic first aid. CPR is something I've taught for a while. I'm pretty comfortable doing it to a patient, and the guy had no pulse." He leaves out personal tidbits his memory will never forget- the smell of alcohol and vomit hovering in the air, mixing in the hot wind, the terror floating through his veins at Kit's furious shout, the adrenaline itself pumping his heart wildly into his sternum.

"I don't know what Greshim saw me doing, but I can only imagine- someone hunched over a bleeding body must have looked bad at first. He didn't give me a chance to explain initially before he called for backup."

The male stops for a moment, catching his breath coming shakily, scared. "We struggled together and tried to stop the bleeding with fabric from my shirt first, but there were too many wounds and the man already lost... Probably more than a liter. I thought to try gunpowder to cauterize the skin and at least try to keep the blood in his body. The keeper ended up cutting his palm open trying to pry open a bullet with the knife.

"Right, so we start to carry him to a healer; backup said it'd be about ten minutes until they were ready to come help us and the man just didn't have that kind of time. His pulse was already fading and he wasn't breathing right, so we just struggled to carry him there. The healers met us halfway and took the guy, while Gresham took me to get sober before the took my blood sample for identity confirmation."

Completely anticlimactic, he eyes the keeper for a reaction, praying to whatever the hell currently chose to listen it didn't sound too rehearsed or forced.