“Sweetheart, you have to ask them the identity of the killer.”
“Shh, babe, hold on. Yes, the vampire is my lover. Anyway, that’s not what we are here for. We are wondering if any of you knows the identity of your murderer.”
Then, there was silence. He was tempted to tap his feet impatiently, but he refrained from doing so. He didn’t want to break his lover’s concentration.
“Sweetheart, what—”
“Hold on. Uh-huh. Okay. Right, right. I see. I’ll remember. Thanks, guys. We will definitely bring your killers to justice and you can finally rest in peace. Right. Thanks again. Bye now.”
“Done?”
“Yeah, let’s go. This place is giving me the creeps.”
“You don’t say,” he deadpanned.
“Not the time and place, babe.”
“Sorry,” he apologized sheepishly.
The two of them remained quiet until they had entered the elevator and returned to the office where Moira was.
“How is it, lovers?”
“Strange.”
“Huh. I’m a siren, not a mind reader, handsome.”