Quoted By:
"Sure."
"When you came back to it did you immediately pick up where you left off? Down to the sentence? Or did you have to scan the page, refresh your memory and then pick up where you left it."
"I don't take crazy pills so I need you to get to the point here."
"Context clues, Sergeant." Question plucks a single strand and straightens it. "See these two curves here? The slight divot between them and the curve opposite."
Hawthorne squints and pulls the paper scrap close.
"Yeah, I guess."
"The first letter is a capital B, most likely followed by an e or an a. Since it's capital that means the piece preceding it is the end of a sentence. I'm looking for the front half of a B following a period..." His voice trails off as he searches the pile for a piece to match. "Once I look through all of these and feel their edges. I'll be able to get started re-assembling."
"Feel their edges?" Grey chimes in now.
"Yes. Small fluctuations in edge alignment will illuminate some of the more difficult pieces. It's a slow but effective process." He mumbles to himself.
"And you taught yourself this?"
"No. A fifty year old carpet weaver from the outskirts of Tehran.. she was a spitfire." Question waxes.
"So we're gonna be here a while?"
"Sadly." Hawthorne groans. "May as well break for lunch then."
"I'll go with you." Grey adds quickly, giving Hawthorne a pointed look.
"Yeah, sure. You're driving and buying then."
"Sure." Grey says flatly, pulling his keys from his pocket and walking away.
"Probably going just grabbing something from Great Wok, you want anything kid?" Hawthorne asks you.
"Anything, you know me." You reply, eyes fixed on Questions smooth and subtle hand movements.
"What about you?" Hawthorne asks Question.
"Nothing. I don't eat Chinese food. On account of the MSG."
"I'm not shocked you believe that bullshit about it giving you cancer or migraines." Hawthorne snorts.
"Not that, it's the name. It's right under your nose. Monosodium Glutamate? Please. MSG's real initials stand for Modified Synchronous Genome. It's actually quite simple if you follow th-" Questions rambling is cut off by the closing of your front door. He glances over his shoulder and then to you. "I'll tell him when he comes back."
"That's okay, I think."
"If you insist.. but I'm glad we're alone."
"Uh."
Question digs into one of his pants pockets and searches furiously.
"Uh." You repeat.
"One moment, Officer. You gave me a gift so it's only fair I give you this in return."
"Extending a hand out to you he unfurls his fingers revealing a small quarter shaped object."
"What is that?"
"A bug." He replies dryly. "I told you I was sweeping for them, but I wanted to give it to you in private."
You take it and examine it, not taking long to realize who planted this device.
"Does this belong to who I think it belongs to?"
"Yes."
"Son of a bitch.." You mumble, turning the small device between finger and thumb. "He has branding?"
"You should see the jet."
