Do you mind if I ask you a few questions about the fire? I understand it would be very traumatizing to you, so if it's too soon to think much on your experience, I won't press.
There's a group of us here who have backgrounds in law enforcement and I am positive we will be looking into it as soon as we possibly can. If you would be willing to talk to someone else who you haven't met, I can track one of them down.
[It's a very difficult thing to deal with survivors, families of victims, to come to them in a terrible time and ask personal questions, how they felt, what they remembered. It's part of his job he doesn't like much at all, his pesky empathy taken into account, but it's necessary. He hopes she understands. She seems intent to want it taken care of, and he's never seen anything in her to suggest that she would withhold something to make sure justice, as she called it, came about.]
[Evy ignores Will's message for half a day. She's uncertain how best to answer it; situations in which one needs to speak with the police aren't her usual forte, and he's included so many caveats that she genuinely has to think about her answer. Does she want to speak with someone else? Does she want to speak to anyone at all? A conversation can't really qualify as traumatizing, surely.
(And, of course, there's at least an hour spent not thinking about it, very purposefully so, but never mind that. Will doesn't need to know about the reasons behind her lack of punctuality today.)
The reply she finally comes up with is, perhaps, curt, but she can't think of anything else that needs to be said at this juncture. And perhaps that's more indicative of her current mood than anything else.]
[He doesn't begrudge her the time she takes to reply, positive he'll get something eventually. A day. Three days. A week. It'll happen. He's not about to message her forty times until he gets something out of her. He wouldn't appreciate it. Surely she wouldn't, either.]
I have multiple questions, and some you may find deeply personal or intrusive. Trust me when I say that this information goes only as far as it needs to go so we can get to the bottom of this disaster. Nothing else will ever see the light of day, no matter what.
Are you more comfortable doing this in this way, or would you rather something else? I can come to you, if you feel like that's better. Whatever you believe is the best for you, I'll do it.
[The thought of answering questions in person--with anyone, Will or a stranger--leaves her feeling nauseous. Will is an investigator by trade, and so are his compatriots. Whatever questions she has to answer, they won't be things that can be put off so easily as everyone asking her how she's feeling. Even Dr. McCoy didn't press her--but someone trying to get to the bottom of this entire foul business is a different story.
If she's going to answer, she wants to do it where no one can bear witness to her reactions.]
[He managed to escape before he got too many questions. When he goes back, oh, he knows he'll be asked a ton of them, and he's not looking forward to it.
This is hardly about him. This is his job, even if there's someone here now who might advise him against doing it. This is familiar. He can do this.]
I'm going to give you them all at once. Take as much time as you need to answer. If there is something that you do not want to answer, leave it out. You do not need to say you are not going to answer it or apologize. Just skip it entirely, and I won't mention it.
When the fire began, where were you? Do you remember any strange smells before you realized it was there? It is possible that something like faulty wiring may have been at the heart of it. It is important to find out if it was accidental or purposeful. If we can remove the possibility that something sparked and shouldn't have or any other thing that can go wrong with electricity, it is helpful.
Did you see anyone unusual near the school at all before it happened? Anyone who looked out of place, Traveler or Native. Someone who might have been lingering too much and with no obvious agenda for why. Don't think of someone naturally suspicious because of dress or looks, just think of anyone that seemed out of place.
Have you talked to anyone lately who seemed to express more interest in your position with the school than might have been fitting? Has anyone tried to speak to you anonymously? Did anything happen with another person at the school recently that made you feel threatened? If anyone at all has given you a strange feeling because of their interest or reaction to your work with the school or the school in general, that's a good starting point.
This one may seem insulting. I don't mean it that way. You've gotten fire magic. I'm sure someone will have already tried to put forth the idea that you did it yourself, whether on accident or because of maliciousness. I have no desire to insult you here and now, but I need to know if you find it at all possible that you (or anyone else in the building gifted in the same way, if there are any) might have had an incident that you could not control.
[That is a lot, he knows. It's basic procedure, and this is a little easier than staring at her and trying to be calm about it, risking an outburst of anger at him that isn't as personal as anyone unfamiliar with his work might think it was.
It will be more difficult to determine what is worth investigating without her raw and first reactions to go by, but he'll manage.]
Take all the time you need. If anyone asks you about this sort of thing, send them to me. There is no reason to answer them twice.
[She sits down to answer all of it--all at once, out of the way and done with--and freezes. It's too much at once, a veritable wall of questions, and she can't do it. Not all at once and, at that moment, not at all.
An hour later, she tries again, this time without staring at every question he's asked her. She manages to write it in little bursts of paragraphs, a little at a time over several hours. Though it feels like cheating to give up after a few sentences and send them away, she can feel in her gut that if she kept each scrap until she felt she was finished, Will might never see any of it.]
I didn't set the fire. I don't know who did, but I assure you, I would never--you know I wouldn't. Frankly, Professor Snape should, too. [Is she still mad he accused her of starting the fire? Maybe a little.] I didn't even realize there was a fire at first. I was marking essays at the time, so I don't know where it started, or who started it, but I assure you, it wasn't me.
This is mortifying, but I did receive an obscene note some time ago. I doubt there's any connection, but since you asked, I suppose you ought to have it. Please don't think the worse of me; I don't know who might have sent it. I certainly haven't given anyone reason to.
I don't think I'll be much help for you, since I didn't see anything or hear anything, or really notice anything at all. My office doesn't--didn't--have windows. I didn't even manage to open the door before it was over.
It smelled a bit like melting plastic. I remember that.
And of course, there have been a few people who have asked questions anonymously on the network as a whole. I have responded to those on occasion. They're not quite the same thing, but you may as well know.
[And that's...well, that's most of it, isn't it? Evy glances over the questions he asked. Anything else she can think of won't do anything for his investigations. I was so stupid with smoke that I wasn't even frightened at the time and It was pointless. All of it--pointless and on beyond.]
This is all after the fact, but a gentleman called John Gilbert was interested in investigating the fire. If you haven't been in contact with him, you might consider saying hello.
[His own reply takes several hours, not because he had to think on the situation (he is, naturally), but because he fell asleep for once in his life. He can't tell her that, though. Let her think he's writing it all down in a notebook, though he'd told her he had that pesky little ability to remember every damn thing in the world. She must be upset. It might cross her mind. Surely it's better to leave it unsaid than come across as uncaring or doing this out of obligation, not because he actually wants to do it.]
I don't believe you would, no. This is for information's sake. Not everyone knows you. Evidence speaks louder than than "take my word for it." [I can't pretend I don't know you, he doesn't believe her reaction will be to nod along and realize she did it. That was a terrible time for him. He's not putting anyone else through that. Keeping his personal connection to her out of it is his goal, but yes, he's going to be biased in more ways than one. He simply doesn't realize it yet.] You can't help what people message you with. I don't think less of you for it. It happens. It can be upsetting, but it doesn't mean you gave anyone reason to do it. Some people have no manners.
The smell of plastic is good to know. [It can be several things, and smelling burning plastic for too long means nothing good. How she died? If he could get to the scene on his own, he might be able to figure it out. Difficult without a body to stare at, and potentially obscene in its very morbid nature, but it's his job. Is it, Will? Asking is off the table.] I'll talk to this John Gilbert and the others I know with similar backgrounds. If anyone else asks these exact same things, like I said, direct them to me. I'll take care of it.
I can talk to Professor Snape, too, if you would like.
No more questions as of right now. Do you have any questions about anything, or anything you'd like to say?
[It doesn't have to be about this. Will would talk to Snape, has no fear of him. He wouldn't chew him out, make threats, none of that. It was a heated night, for lack of anything better to call it. He went up to bat for Abigail Hobbs, and it turned out he was wrong all along. He'll go up to bat for Evelyn if someone comes barging in and refuses to listen to anything other than she must have done it with her fire magic. He'll speak up, find it vulgar, just the same as he'd done before.
This time, though, he's not wrong. She's good people. He's sure of it.]
[Every time she thinks back on what she's written, she gets a crawling feeling in her stomach--and then she goes and throws herself into something else. Her room is now remarkably tidy, her cat has been brushed within an inch of his life, and all her books are alphabetized by subject.
Finally, finally, he replies, and she's quicker to answer this time. It matters more than she'd like to admit, the fact that none of what he says is accusatory or dismissive.]
I don't think speaking with Professor Snape will be necessary. If he still has doubts about my role in the fire, I'll set him straight.
[And it won't be kindly. Luckily, he seems to have realized quite how daft his questions were the night it happened; she hasn't yet heard from him since.]
Please will you keep me aware of whatever you find out? Aside from that, I don't think there's anything else that needs to be said.
[Of course it has to be about this--at least, that's what she assumes. He's been speaking to her as a witness, and so her thoughts are pointed in that direction.]
[He has a mental image of Snape getting a thorough tongue-lashing if he steps out of line again, and it brings a little smile to his face. It's good to see she's still got spirit, even after death.]
Once we get to work on it, I won't be able to tell you details until it's over. This isn't because I want to withhold information from you or downplay what happened in it, your role, that you have a stake in the outcome. It's just the process of things. When we get everything straightened out and have a solid answer, I will let you know myself before I tell anyone else. Good for you?
[All right, mostly her brother. But the point remains--if they're to be on first-name basis, and she isn't calling him William, then...]
There is one thing, and it's rather silly, so if you're too busy, I entirely understand, but...I believe I was promised one of those cheeseburgers of yours, at one point.
[Inviting yourself to dinner is rude! But wanting to have some company is kind of an excuse, right? She hopes so. Otherwise, oops.]
[Oh, has he earned a nickname? A friend—granted, Will's not used to friendship and the few people he had who tried to claim it don't think so highly of him at this point (or too highly, in one's case), so even the word is strange to see. He actually stares at it like it's a piece of evidence he somehow has absolutely no experience with, and it a way? It rather is.]
Evy, then. I'm still Will. [It rhymes! No titles have followed him here, especially not Special Investigator.] It's not silly at all. You were promised a cheeseburger, I remember that. With bacon, if you want. You mentioned turnips, too.
So at what point would you like to get together for that?
[Feeding the masses, stealing their dogs. This wasn't his design, but he's not going to complain.]
[Still Will! Probably the best rhyme he could hope for at this point. He is contemplative.]
Considering that I'm asking myself over immediately after being questioned about my own death, I think there's a certain level of absurdity worth acknowledging. [And also, it's still kind of rude of her, but he doesn't seem to mind. He hasn't said anything, anyway.] Whatever evening is best for you should be fine. I haven't got much going on outside of my classes right now.
[It's not so rude, not when she's asking. Will has dropped in on people with absolutely no warning before because of needing company or to vent; he wouldn't be able to talk on it even if it was rude.]
How about tomorrow? Give me time to get everything together that I'll need to make it as perfect as possible.
[He's not such a baker, really, but there's plenty of places to ask and get things and yes. He will make oven-made smore-like desserts come hell or high water.]
[Her first thought is, oh, no, I'll be too full from tea with Dr. McCoy, and that's the moment when she realizes that she's managed to schedule two social engagements at nearly the same time.
Oops.
Luckily, since Evy has never heard the term "situation comedy" in her life, she doesn't think to try and meet both gentlemen, possibly in the same location while wearing cunning disguises.]
Now that I've invited myself over for dinner, I'm afraid I'm going to have to ask to reschedule. I'm so sorry--I only just remembered that I've already promised to have tea with someone else tomorrow afternoon. Would the day after be all right?
[It's understandable for someone who's recently died in a fire and come back to have their mind a little jumbled. He's not upset by it, not going to ask who it is she's having tea with. If she feels safe with them, hopefully she is. There's no need for him to get into her business.]
You don't need to apologize. [He's not offended she didn't refuse to snuggle because he's out of his mind. There's no harm done.] Tea is better for you than bacon cheeseburgers. The day after is perfectly all right, yes.
![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
text | day 422
There's a group of us here who have backgrounds in law enforcement and I am positive we will be looking into it as soon as we possibly can. If you would be willing to talk to someone else who you haven't met, I can track one of them down.
[It's a very difficult thing to deal with survivors, families of victims, to come to them in a terrible time and ask personal questions, how they felt, what they remembered. It's part of his job he doesn't like much at all, his pesky empathy taken into account, but it's necessary. He hopes she understands. She seems intent to want it taken care of, and he's never seen anything in her to suggest that she would withhold something to make sure justice, as she called it, came about.]
[text; private]
(And, of course, there's at least an hour spent not thinking about it, very purposefully so, but never mind that. Will doesn't need to know about the reasons behind her lack of punctuality today.)
The reply she finally comes up with is, perhaps, curt, but she can't think of anything else that needs to be said at this juncture. And perhaps that's more indicative of her current mood than anything else.]
What would you like to know?
same forever, etc.
I have multiple questions, and some you may find deeply personal or intrusive. Trust me when I say that this information goes only as far as it needs to go so we can get to the bottom of this disaster. Nothing else will ever see the light of day, no matter what.
Are you more comfortable doing this in this way, or would you rather something else? I can come to you, if you feel like that's better. Whatever you believe is the best for you, I'll do it.
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If she's going to answer, she wants to do it where no one can bear witness to her reactions.]
This is fine. Please, go ahead.
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This is hardly about him. This is his job, even if there's someone here now who might advise him against doing it. This is familiar. He can do this.]
I'm going to give you them all at once. Take as much time as you need to answer. If there is something that you do not want to answer, leave it out. You do not need to say you are not going to answer it or apologize. Just skip it entirely, and I won't mention it.
When the fire began, where were you? Do you remember any strange smells before you realized it was there? It is possible that something like faulty wiring may have been at the heart of it. It is important to find out if it was accidental or purposeful. If we can remove the possibility that something sparked and shouldn't have or any other thing that can go wrong with electricity, it is helpful.
Did you see anyone unusual near the school at all before it happened? Anyone who looked out of place, Traveler or Native. Someone who might have been lingering too much and with no obvious agenda for why. Don't think of someone naturally suspicious because of dress or looks, just think of anyone that seemed out of place.
Have you talked to anyone lately who seemed to express more interest in your position with the school than might have been fitting? Has anyone tried to speak to you anonymously? Did anything happen with another person at the school recently that made you feel threatened? If anyone at all has given you a strange feeling because of their interest or reaction to your work with the school or the school in general, that's a good starting point.
This one may seem insulting. I don't mean it that way. You've gotten fire magic. I'm sure someone will have already tried to put forth the idea that you did it yourself, whether on accident or because of maliciousness. I have no desire to insult you here and now, but I need to know if you find it at all possible that you (or anyone else in the building gifted in the same way, if there are any) might have had an incident that you could not control.
[That is a lot, he knows. It's basic procedure, and this is a little easier than staring at her and trying to be calm about it, risking an outburst of anger at him that isn't as personal as anyone unfamiliar with his work might think it was.
It will be more difficult to determine what is worth investigating without her raw and first reactions to go by, but he'll manage.]
Take all the time you need. If anyone asks you about this sort of thing, send them to me. There is no reason to answer them twice.
1/5
An hour later, she tries again, this time without staring at every question he's asked her. She manages to write it in little bursts of paragraphs, a little at a time over several hours. Though it feels like cheating to give up after a few sentences and send them away, she can feel in her gut that if she kept each scrap until she felt she was finished, Will might never see any of it.]
I didn't set the fire. I don't know who did, but I assure you, I would never--you know I wouldn't. Frankly, Professor Snape should, too. [Is she still mad he accused her of starting the fire? Maybe a little.] I didn't even realize there was a fire at first. I was marking essays at the time, so I don't know where it started, or who started it, but I assure you, it wasn't me.
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It smelled a bit like melting plastic. I remember that.
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end
This is all after the fact, but a gentleman called John Gilbert was interested in investigating the fire. If you haven't been in contact with him, you might consider saying hello.
Please tell me if you have more questions.
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I don't believe you would, no. This is for information's sake. Not everyone knows you. Evidence speaks louder than than "take my word for it." [I can't pretend I don't know you, he doesn't believe her reaction will be to nod along and realize she did it. That was a terrible time for him. He's not putting anyone else through that. Keeping his personal connection to her out of it is his goal, but yes, he's going to be biased in more ways than one. He simply doesn't realize it yet.] You can't help what people message you with. I don't think less of you for it. It happens. It can be upsetting, but it doesn't mean you gave anyone reason to do it. Some people have no manners.
The smell of plastic is good to know. [It can be several things, and smelling burning plastic for too long means nothing good. How she died? If he could get to the scene on his own, he might be able to figure it out. Difficult without a body to stare at, and potentially obscene in its very morbid nature, but it's his job. Is it, Will? Asking is off the table.] I'll talk to this John Gilbert and the others I know with similar backgrounds. If anyone else asks these exact same things, like I said, direct them to me. I'll take care of it.
I can talk to Professor Snape, too, if you would like.
No more questions as of right now. Do you have any questions about anything, or anything you'd like to say?
[It doesn't have to be about this. Will would talk to Snape, has no fear of him. He wouldn't chew him out, make threats, none of that. It was a heated night, for lack of anything better to call it. He went up to bat for Abigail Hobbs, and it turned out he was wrong all along. He'll go up to bat for Evelyn if someone comes barging in and refuses to listen to anything other than she must have done it with her fire magic. He'll speak up, find it vulgar, just the same as he'd done before.
This time, though, he's not wrong. She's good people. He's sure of it.]
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Finally, finally, he replies, and she's quicker to answer this time. It matters more than she'd like to admit, the fact that none of what he says is accusatory or dismissive.]
I don't think speaking with Professor Snape will be necessary. If he still has doubts about my role in the fire, I'll set him straight.
[And it won't be kindly. Luckily, he seems to have realized quite how daft his questions were the night it happened; she hasn't yet heard from him since.]
Please will you keep me aware of whatever you find out? Aside from that, I don't think there's anything else that needs to be said.
[Of course it has to be about this--at least, that's what she assumes. He's been speaking to her as a witness, and so her thoughts are pointed in that direction.]
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Once we get to work on it, I won't be able to tell you details until it's over. This isn't because I want to withhold information from you or downplay what happened in it, your role, that you have a stake in the outcome. It's just the process of things. When we get everything straightened out and have a solid answer, I will let you know myself before I tell anyone else. Good for you?
[Procedures can be such a pain sometimes.]
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I understand.
Thank you, Will.
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You're welcome, Evelyn. You need anything I can help you with, just let me know.
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[All right, mostly her brother. But the point remains--if they're to be on first-name basis, and she isn't calling him William, then...]
There is one thing, and it's rather silly, so if you're too busy, I entirely understand, but...I believe I was promised one of those cheeseburgers of yours, at one point.
[Inviting yourself to dinner is rude! But wanting to have some company is kind of an excuse, right? She hopes so. Otherwise, oops.]
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Evy, then. I'm still Will. [It rhymes! No titles have followed him here, especially not Special Investigator.] It's not silly at all. You were promised a cheeseburger, I remember that. With bacon, if you want. You mentioned turnips, too.
So at what point would you like to get together for that?
[Feeding the masses, stealing their dogs. This wasn't his design, but he's not going to complain.]
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Considering that I'm asking myself over immediately after being questioned about my own death, I think there's a certain level of absurdity worth acknowledging. [And also, it's still kind of rude of her, but he doesn't seem to mind. He hasn't said anything, anyway.] Whatever evening is best for you should be fine. I haven't got much going on outside of my classes right now.
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How about tomorrow? Give me time to get everything together that I'll need to make it as perfect as possible.
[...]
And something like smores, too, if you want.
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'Something like smores'? Dare I ask?
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Don't ask. I'll surprise you.
[He's not such a baker, really, but there's plenty of places to ask and get things and yes. He will make oven-made smore-like desserts come hell or high water.]
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Oops.
Luckily, since Evy has never heard the term "situation comedy" in her life, she doesn't think to try and meet both gentlemen, possibly in the same location while wearing cunning disguises.]
Now that I've invited myself over for dinner, I'm afraid I'm going to have to ask to reschedule. I'm so sorry--I only just remembered that I've already promised to have tea with someone else tomorrow afternoon. Would the day after be all right?
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You don't need to apologize. [He's not offended she didn't refuse to snuggle because he's out of his mind. There's no harm done.] Tea is better for you than bacon cheeseburgers. The day after is perfectly all right, yes.
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[NOTHING WILL RUIN THIS]