I’ll hear you whine in the wine room [Tag: Dean]

[Carmen Edinburgh]

  Another day, another sleep that lasted way too long which only meant one thing— being gassed in her sleep. Maybe it was just her but she didn’t mind it then, beats being gassed in a game.. The last one was an exception, she didn’t mind being gassed their. Saved her eyes. She was in a bed, feeling the comfortable plump mattress under her, preferred foam or hard beds, but it’ll do. Beats not having one.
  Her eyes opened to a room.. Thank god. She sat up, letting out a groggy yawn— “Mr. Ish—” Then she looked passed her shoulder and— Oh come on. It was Dean from the game, sure, she had worse days but that didn’t make this any less grating. So, she sighed and got herself out of bed. Looking around the room for a brief minute, she liked the wine themed decor. It wasn’t as sophisticated as the second room but it beat being in the worst. What’s with the cactus on the side? Saw it in room seven, but.. Still.
Walking over to the closet, she opened it and it was... Decent, she pieced together some clothing piece in her head.
  —She took out a sleeved-beige top and white jeans, she decided to just use the old slippers for her feet. Her toes were still irritable. Although that wouldn’t stop her from trying to find a better hint, maybe something to build upon recent findings... Hm, so many things.
But first things first, she took the clothes and shut the bathroom door. As she took her clothes off, her eyes marveled upon the phoenix on her back. The orange-gold color fading to black down her back. Remember Carmen, you’re stronger now.
  —Hence why she had that tattoo; to show rebirth, regrowing, restarting.—
  She gave it a big smile, changing her clothes now.

[Dean Gray]

Dean stirred. There was something off about the floor, it was.. softer than it should be. Maybe he had finally gotten used to sleeping on the floor, much like a dog, and thus the floor felt softer? It was far better that he lie on the floor than let Emer do so: Her having the bed, as much as it can be called as such, was something that wasn't even a discussion. The scent of the room wafted to him, and he furrowed his brows. This was not the same scent- - No, stench, he had gotten used to. He opened his eyes, seeing red. Literally. Pale red wallpaper, pale red blanket. Not the best color choice, but then again he wasn't a designer of any sort, so this might in fact be 'in'.

He sighed, edging over to the foot of the bed, rubbing his eyes and ruffling his hair a bit. He seemed to be alone. His thoughts wandered to Emer. Where was she? If the other 'room switch' was any indication, they would be split up again. Almost as if their captor, captors, whatever, wanted you to get to know everyone. The strangest thing. Dean had been upgraded with regards to residence, so he hoped Emer had been as lucky herself. Not that there could be anything much worse than what they had been in. The bathroom was... interesting, to say the least. Luckily their diet was so minimal that their need for a toilet was minimized too. He shook his head, bringing those thought processes out of his mind. Since he had been blessed with a window that actually showed the outside, he'd figured out they had been trapped in that room for at least 13 days. Simple rounding led them to 14 days, two weeks. It would not be good to worry about Emmy for two weeks, so for now he'd have to put her aside, as best he could.

Turning around to get a look of the room, he wondered: Who was his roommate this time? He didn't know many, but from those he knew... Geoff would be very fun, just some one on one action where he couldn't hide behind his army of followers. His wife might be interesting too, if nothing else to figure out how he brainwashed her. Ah, his partner in that 'event' would be good, Cecaelia? She seemed nice, and was one of the few to show some semblance of support for his point of view, as opposed to that 'detective'. God, she would be the worst roommate of them all.

[Carmen Edinburgh]

She was busy washing her nightgown, using the hot water to clean her clothes. Sure, she didn’t have washing powder but she wasn’t going to use the minimal liquid soap for this. This was her way of not wasting a quarter on the washing machines in university. Still works wonders. Hanging the dress neatly on the hanger. Turning off the water as she stepped into her slippers, fluffed to top and made her way out. 
  And he was awake, well. That was inevitably going to happen, as grating as he was on her nerves. She would rather have him be alive then otherwise. Smiling softly, “Had a good sleep, sleeping beauty?” She said blankly as she fingered through the minimalist bookshelf. That was oddly where the interesting things were. Her pen. Let’s just say, while she was wearing the dress, she hid the pen in the center of her bra. 
  Pen; a detective’s best friend.
  “Hm...” She needed to formulate something she needed to find out. She remembered the book, even if her hands slept. She could piece something together. For now, she wasn’t in a game, she could at least spend her time writing over what her and Geoff discussed and what she could see from the book while she had it.
  She took a book, going to the last blank pages towards the end of the book. Now...

---

Now, what can be concluded so far is..

- The woman is Asian, she has a traditional criterion for the couples.
  The art teacher and engineer... The calm detective and neurotic professor. 
- The rooms could show a cultural conflict.
Western art in a primarily east-asian styles room.

Madge — Baker

She’s unstable.  
There’s more then one person involved.
Wants to matchmake everyone.
Was addressing someone... “You?” 
Didn’t seem keen on killing the girl?

Questions so far:

- What’s this place? The level of equipment and the size of this place... It’s old. It has to be.
- Why is this matchmaker keen on matching all us up?

---

  The woman stopped.. Sighing as she leaned back on the bed, placing the book on the bed as she re-read through what she had written. Hm... She looked at the bookshelf, and then back at what she had written, then to the window. It was still pitch black. Perfect. Sarcasm, eying the book as she decided to assume. Because that always works well. She was truly self destructive that way. Whispering to herself, “Where are we..?” A place in Mayfield? Ideally, that’s what she hoped for.
  “They were spread across days...” 16... 17... 18... It did not make sense to drive out of state, regardless if the alias’s were involved directly or indirectly. “Now just need to find out about this place...” What this place was. 

[Dean Gray]

Dean heard the water run from behind the bathroom door. The sound was at thus point almost foreign. Two weeks without basic necessities almost made him forget what civilization was like. As soon as his roommate was done, he'd have to get himself in there and clean the dirt off. If there was a shower, that was. After a short while the sounds of water stopped, and a woman stepped ou- - oh no... His mood didn't improve much from this. Fourteen days with this woman? God...

"Had a good sleep, sleeping beauty?" she said with nary an expression on her face. This was going to be two long weeks.

Thankfully she didn't seem to want to pursue further conversation, as she went over to the bookshelf, seemingly perusing its contents. He was grateful for this. She was grating enough that that tiny moment he talked to her in the 'event' was almost worse than the shooting that occurred right after. He didn't reply as he sighed and got up from the bed, heading for the bathroom. Saying nothing, he headed inside and closed the door.

The accommodations in there were simple, but far removed from his last ones. Anything was better than that. He saw a dress hanging on a hanger, wet. Had the detective been wearing this? Then washed it? Resourceful, what with no cleaning supplies being here. He rather quickly undressed and got in the shower. The feeling of two weeks worth of sweat and filth being washed off was amazing. He stood there for what felt like ages, just enjoying the water, before he turned it off and fetched the single towel that was there, drying himself as best he could before wrapping it around himself. He looked at the man in the mirror, something he hadn't done in a while. His usual five o'clock shadow had grown bolder, almost a full beard soon. He looked ragged, a bit disheveled, but who wouldn't after 14 days in a shithole, as it were. "You aren't one of those of those recluse weirdoes, are you?" Emmys words replayed in his mind. If this was how he looked the first time she saw him, that would be exactly what she thought him to be. Chuckling a bit to himself, he shrugged, gathering his clothes up in a pile. He should definitely clean them, but not right now. Now he'd just try to relax. This was practically a vacation when comparing to the last two weeks. Sure, he was still captive, and who knew what Mr Geoff was planning, but he could at least enjoy the time he got in a more comfortable environment.

Shortly after, he emerged from the bathroom in the towel, seeing the detective still by the bookshelf, muttering to herself. Shocking, she was mad too. Talking to herself. By god this would would be a painful two weeks. Still silent, he went back to the bed and plopped himself down on it, face first. He didn't think he'd miss anyone while here, what with his usual lifestyle being solitary, but he did find himself missing the chats with Emmy. She seemed to be the only sane person here, well, apart from himself and Silvio, and perhaps this Cecaelia person. She would be interesting to get to know. He turned his face towards the 'detective', then spoke:

"Find anything interesting?" he said, resisting the urge to make a jab at what he'd gathered was her reasoning 'skills' from the 'event'. There'd be enough time for that.

[Carmen Edinburgh]

The room was an interesting blend of tension, annoyance and easiness at the same time. It was just her curated senses driving her to feel things from something as simple as ‘the aura of a room’. Or however spiritual guru’s describe it. Eying over what she had written. Before noticing him asking a question, sure. She was irked but she wasn’t a complete bitch. Besides, he’s the least of my problems. Not even close.
  "Find anything interesting?"
  She was done writing for now, so she looked up. “Well, have a few questions. Will help to find what can narrow down what this place actually is, since their’s no way the woman running this place would have access to such a place unless it was abandoned.” It also had to be far, but not too far. Far enough to be in the outskirts of Mayfield and undetectable but... Close that the abductions were from Mayfield. First kidnappings were tragedies, twice is a coincidence— especially if they’re from the same place. Three times were a pattern. She sighed, looking through the page. “But from what I’m more sure on, the woman’s a matchmaker, an Asian matchmaker who marries people off. Basing them off of status— what she mentioned back at the game.” That ‘woman of status’ line, “And the fact that something mental is driving her, since her rage was extreme and she was addressing someone as ‘you’ back their.” As well as one of the accomplices and or victims, being another woman. “What about you?”

[Dean Gray]

"Well, have a few questions. Will help to find what can narrow down what this place actually is, since their’s no way the woman running this place would have access to such a place unless it was abandoned."

Dean blinked. A woman running this place? Was this detective under the impression that the mad one that came running in with a gun was the one running this? He had to resist laughing. There was no way that someone that unstable was running things. She was a tool to someone else, someone with the means and connections to properly kidnap such a large amount of people, then proceeding to bring all of these to a remote location and paying off or averting police attention.

"But from what I’m more sure on, the woman’s a matchmaker, an Asian matchmaker who marries people off. Basing them off of status— what she mentioned back at the game. And the fact that something mental is driving her, since her rage was extreme and she was addressing someone as ‘you’ back their."

Here she, in his mind, refuted her own point. If she was so mental that something else was driving her, a hallucination or whatever, then there was no way she was in a state of mind to run anything. As to the whole matchmaking thing. What?

"What about you?" She asked, extending a branch of sorts to respond.

"Well, first of all. My last room didn't have blacked out windows. We're in the middle of a forest, in a house at least two stories tall. Judging by the fact that sound doesn't carry well in general, since we can hear practically nothing but adjacent rooms, I'd hazard a guess that this place is some sort of institution or other building wherein soundproofing is important." He paused a little bit, turning over on his back, staring into the ceiling.

"As for the woman herself. You said it yourself, she's likely mental. There's no way she's the one running this. There's someone behind her, someone rich and powerful. Perhaps rich enough to pay off police so they don't investigate. God knows they're corrupt enough. Another thing: What makes you say she's a matchmaker? Do you know something I don't? Because all we saw at the 'event' was a mad woman of Asian descent running in with a gun and offing someone. Bold assumption to state their occupation from that.

[Carmen Edinburgh]

—"Well, first of all. My last room didn't have blacked out windows. We're in the middle of a forest, in a house at least two stories tall. Judging by the fact that sound doesn't carry well in general, since we can hear practically nothing but adjacent rooms, I'd hazard a guess that this place is some sort of institution or other building wherein soundproofing is important."—
  She raises an eyebrow, middle of a forest... Institution? Her fingers held the pen, writing down the following. “In a forest.. And could be an institution..” 

---

Location:
- Forest, Mayfield (hopefully)
- Institution (??)

---

  Giving him a small smile, well— this could be fine. Even if the event was irritating, she could still notice merit or an idea she could take on board. More the merrier. So, she attentively listened to what he said next. Still eying the book she had written in:
  —"As for the woman herself. You said it yourself, she's likely mental. There's no way she's the one running this. There's someone behind her, someone rich and powerful. Perhaps rich enough to pay off police so they don't investigate." 
  She frowned, looking up. Hearing people bitch about law enforcement wasn’t new to her. She was part of it after all, but she knew police officers and investigators. Most of them were decent civilians who easily got overshadowed by those ones. She knew them, they were the bane of her professional life. “Well, I can safely say the police weren’t bribed by her or any other party.” Because if she wasn’t captured, she would be finding them at this very minute. “But, even if she isn’t. She’s one of the most forward initiators. So, for now— I’m assuming it’s her. Because I get the feeling that if the cards had been paired like she wanted— then she wouldn’t have reacted like she did.” It could have been the trigger for the woman, that they lost that is.
  —"God knows they're corrupt enough. Another thing: What makes you say she's a matchmaker? Do you know something I don't? Because all we saw at the 'event' was a mad woman of Asian descent running in with a gun and offing someone. Bold assumption to state their occupation from that."—
  “The clothes she’s wearing and the events so far.” She knew the first game was like a Russian roulette date-night, a wedding for Geoff and Hannah and now... Date night. Little did she know of what happened in the freezer and kitchen and honestly.. Ignorance was bliss for now. “I know, but the events have been aimed for people to get married. The first event with Geoff and Hannah then the recent one with me and Huxley.” Frowning softly, “I’m pretty sure if me and him did match then it would have been the same thing as Geoff and Hannah.” Sighing softly.
  

[Dean Gray]

"Well, I can safely say the police weren’t bribed by her or any other party."

Of course, if she hadn't ever seen it, it surely must not happen ever. This was the same thinking that caused everyone to jump to Geoffs defense. It was foolish to think that the police was incorruptible. 'There' s just a few bad apples, the rest are fine' they usually said, completely ignoring the fact that one bad apple spoils the bunch.

"So you're bleeding blue, then? Figures." he said, well aware that this wasn't productive whatsoever.

She then went on to mention how the woman seemed to have specific goals, and a distinctive uniform-like clothing. Which made, in some sense, some sense. Apart from the fact that he found it very unlikely that anyone would want to work with or for someone like that. Did she not realize how outlandish that sounded?

"I know, but the events have been aimed for people to get married. The first event with Geoff and Hannah then the recent one with me and Huxley."

As if she'd read his mind, she said that. It didn't help her cause any, as it were. It made no sense for the matching of cards to be part of a wedding scheme.

"I’m pretty sure if me and him did match then it would have been the same thing as Geoff and Hannah."

Dean sighed, then spoke.

"Let's say you're correct. This is all a grand, messed up, version of 'Are you the one?', with death sprinkled in. In this world, in the 'event' where you failed to match with black, how could anyone hope to match with the correct card? We were given zero information, and told to reveal none or be 'punished'. And another thing, if she's a matchmaker, why would she have us draw cards at random and then be pissed when we didn't match up correctly? That's almost antithetical to the whole process of being a matchmaker. You look at the different people and match them based on their personalities. You don't roll a dice and hope the right ones match up, that'd be ludicrous. And why are you dismissing Geoff so easily? Did he pay you off?"

[Carmen Edinburgh]

—"So you're bleeding blue, then? Figures."—
  Really, all the woman could do was just look at him blankly, it wasn’t obvious what she’d do as she heard that. But really… Her political and social views weren’t his business, won’t be and don’t have to be. “I said that because I was the person who was starting to investigate the abductions.” To her utter joy, she was the same person that she tried to find out about: Victim of an abduction. Just my luck…
  —"Let's say you're correct. This is all a grand, messed up, version of 'Are you the one?', with death sprinkled in. In this world, in the 'event' where you failed to match with black, how could anyone hope to match with the correct card?"—
  She sighed, not out of annoyance but because the game tired her out. At least his referencing was nice, “She could just have high standards, one of which includes needing to figure out who has what cards.” Grumbling softly as she leaned back on her bed, the blanket curled over her waist. What she’d give to just wake up from this nightmare in her own bed… But no. That just.. Isn’t the case. She sighed, honestly— she just shouldn’t have assumed wrong, because once she started talking about how they could die from a wrong card, she really did have Huxley in the palm of her hand. But then… Just because she thought his neurotic displacement was habit and not sudden stress from having the killer card, it just messed it up. Mistakes happened… But.. Breathe Carmen.. You can’t keep blaming yourself.. Calming herself down a little.
  —"why would she have us draw cards at random and then be pissed when we didn't match up correctly? That's almost antithetical to the whole process of being a matchmaker."—
  She kept her face blank, “To put it simply, she doesn’t have to be ethical. Such as how some doctors, police officers and psychiatrists aren’t.” Frowning a bit, “But it’s for a goal, to get people married off.” Even though it was a sham, what was she trying to prove?
  —"You look at the different people and match them based on their personalities. You don't roll a dice and hope the right ones match up, that'd be ludicrous. And why are you dismissing Geoff so easily? Did he pay you off?"—
  She smiled and nodded, “It is ludicrous, but still a high possibility since many people; especially during desperation would do anything, ethical or not.” Didn’t make it right but that was what it was. Sighing towards the end, saying firmly. “I have enough money already, so no.” Plus, she wouldn’t stoop to such a level. “But yes, you believe he has something to do with the abductions and games?” Deciding to say that nicely, she figured he (Geoff) was just a person put in an unfortunate situation, but deciding to inquire. “Guess someone told you about the game?” Again, not mockingly. Just curious.

[Dean Gray]

"I said that because I was the person who was starting to investigate the abductions."

Well that investigation went swell.

"Alone? Where's your fellow policemen? Unless you're saying that this was your personal mission, and nobody in your department know you're doing it."

It was perhaps an unnecessary dig, but they had been captive for at least a month. If the cops hadn't found well over a dozen missing people by now, chances were they weren't looking.

"She could just have high standards, one of which includes needing to figure out who has what cards."

Dean blinked, looking at her with a tiny bit of puzzled look in his eyes.

"Yeah, she might have high standards, but she couldn't possibly expect us to be psychic? I would understand her idea of 'The correct people pairing up' if we had been given specific cards, but it was not, meaning it's futile to look for any sense to be made there."

He understood her need for making sense of everything. It was a very human thing to do, and she was a cop to boot. Some things didn't make sense though, and that woman least of all.

"To put it simply, she doesn’t have to be ethical. Such as how some doctors, police officers and psychiatrists aren’t. But it’s for a goal, to get people married off."

Ethical? Why'd she bring that into it? Ah, he understood.

"Anti-thetical. It's something that is directly opposed to something else. A matchmaker leaving choices to something random seems opposite to their purpose. Why pay for their services when a roll of a die could do just as well, you know?"

He should probably have enunciated better, but post-gas he was always a bit slurry. The strangest thing was that he was getting used to the gas. Curse mankind and their ability to adapt. The blonde continued to speak, and he found himself just listening for once.

"I have enough money already, so no." In other words, her loyalty is for sale when she doesn't have money, or that she used to do so and now no longer need to. Cops. "But yes, you believe he has something to do with the abductions and games? Guess someone told you about the game?"

Dean almost did a double take, looking at her incredulously:

"You guess someone told me about the 'game'? If by game you mean that time Geoff aimed a gun at innocent women, one of which he afterwards yelled at, then yes, someone told me about the 'game'." Dean felt himself rising. He was way too angered by that 'game'. He settled down, putting his hand on his head, massaging his temples. "As for Geoff, it's too many coincidences with him for him to not have anything to do with this all. He's been in every 'game', 'event', call it what you will, that I've heard about since we got locked up in here. Supposedly a victim, but also in the prime viewing position. I wouldn't be surprised if he had the finest room in here too, just fancy schmancying it up with gold plates or whatever. If you were to ask me why he'd do it, then that's obviously because he's bored. He's got plenty of money, he's obviously charismatic enough that he would have no issue finding any sort of company, so the man has likely won at everything. Winning is boring though, so he seeks entertainment elsewhere. You'll find no man as depraved as a bored rich one."

He paused a bit.

"Surely you know this from your profession?"

[Carmen Edinburgh]

"Anti-thetical. It's something that is directly opposed to something else. A matchmaker leaving choices to something random seems opposite to their purpose. Why pay for their services when a roll of a die could do just as well, you know?"
  She sighed, smiling sadly. “Again, why go to a doctor when ‘home remedies’ are quote-on-quote ‘all you need.” It could apply to nearly everything, “And I doubt anyone’s paying for her, considering her methods.” But, she mostly got that impression from her clothes and the themes of the games. ‘Date’, ‘marry’, ‘friend night out’…
  —"You guess someone told me about the 'game'? If by game you mean that time Geoff aimed a gun at innocent women, one of which he afterwards yelled at, then yes, someone told me about the 'game'."—
  Hm… It was sweet that he cared a lot for the person who had told him. But she needed more details, “Why did he scream at her?” Walking to the door for their food that was neatly placed at the front; ‘Scrambled eggs with sausages, a carton of orange juice and a cup of warm coffee.’ – Val. Carmen took each tray in her hands, balancing it as she placed one on Deans’ side of the bed, another resting on her side as she had her warm cup of coffee. Mhmm, that was some great coffee though.
  —"As for Geoff, it's too many coincidences with him for him to not have anything to do with this all. He's been in every 'game', 'event', call it what you will, that I've heard about since we got locked up in here.
  She sipped her coffee, looking intrigued. Even if she didn’t fully believe him, but she’s had cases where she’s not fully sure of a witness or a suspect but as the quote went, ‘let a liar talk’ and same applied to someone speaking the truth, letting either speak would be helpful in one way or the other.
  —"Supposedly a victim, but also in the prime viewing position. I wouldn't be surprised if he had the finest room in here too, just fancy schmancying it up with gold plates or whatever."—
  Deciding not to nitpick on the details, since they couldn’t be sure who had been in what room unless the person told them. From what she had heard, he was in the highest quality room last time. Didn’t mean he’d be their now or had been before. A simple fact for her to remember. The blonde was listening, attentively.
  —"If you were to ask me why he'd do it, then that's obviously because he's bored. He's got plenty of money, he's obviously charismatic enough that he would have no issue finding any sort of company, so the man has likely won at everything. Winning is boring though, so he seeks entertainment elsewhere. You'll find no man as depraved as a bored rich one."—
  Was he wrong? Not exactly, accept— a depraved rich man from her standards being in a victim’s position in a building in the middle of nowhere was an all too specific off a kink for trying to alleviate something like boredom. Plus, by his description, he was mentioning something more akin to people with a high psychopathy score. Whilst what some people would do for a thrill would always surprise her to the point she wasn’t even surprised by the most depraved of situations— They tended to be a way more broad set activities; for better or worse.
  Plus, she just didn’t get that impression so far. Why? Because psychopaths tended to be sporadic in their conversations, never quite able to stay on a topic and whilst their were certainly more categories. That was just something she hadn’t noticed in him. Guess we’ll just see what happens. She just didn’t think a psychopath would talk or act like how he did, but— that was just her prerogative.
  Taking the scrambled eggs and sausages with a fork, taking a bite.
  —"Surely you know this from your profession?"—
  She looked at him and nodded, “I mean, you have a point. Bored depraved rich men can certainly be some of the worst.” Humming softly, “But I’m just thinking that he’d fit that description better if he weren’t in a victimizing position,” Or what he could use to paint himself as another victim. “—but at the top; looking over everything going on and that way— being a better spectator.”
  Having more of her food, she did genuinely like the food. Shame it was in an abandoned building that she hoped was still in Mayfield. But, part of her was thinking of a rather— dark scenario. Usually if someone felt threatened and had a sense of power or enough— a superiority complex. They’d try to silence or… kill the person. The person who ‘calls them out’. So if.. Geoff was really this problematic figure, why not see if he would coldly kill— Let’s not go their.
  She didn’t want anyone else dead, wether it be Dean, Geoff or the other people like… Keiari, Evan.. Victor, Kim, Cassim.. And others like Mathias and Sawyer.
  Little did she know. Little did she know about two of those people going adios and never saying another ‘Hello’.

[Dean Gray]

"Again, why go to a doctor when ‘home remedies’ are quote-on-quote ‘all you need. And I doubt anyone’s paying for her, considering her methods."

Dean had to acknowledge that someone wanting to pay for these services was unlikely, unless they specifically wanted these 'wrong' methods. 

"Why did he scream at her?"

Why did Geoff scream at Emer? Because his sense of self, his pride even, had been viciously attacked by her, obviously. How dared she insinuate that he was something as vicious as a psychopath? Dean found himself mockingly mimic how he figured the man looked as he'd be thinking this. He shook his head before he spoke:

"Because Emer said a psychopath had aimed a gun at her and other women, not knowing that Geoff was on the other side of the wall when she said this. His response was to, rather annoyedly, point out that that 'Psychopath' was right there, before raising his voice and making it about himself, fauxpology and all. Because that was definitely the most important part of that event, how he felt." Dean added the last part with a hefty dose of sarcasm just in time for when Carmen put down a tray beside him on the bed. He nodded a thanks as he reached for his cup of coffee. He took a sip of it as he reached towards one of the sausages on the plate. He hadn't eaten proper food for two weeks, so manners be damned, as he put the meat in his mouth, before ravenously starting on the rest of the food. 

"I mean, you have a point. Bored depraved rich men can certainly be some of the worst. But I’m just thinking that he’d fit that description better if he weren’t in a victimizing position, but at the top; looking over everything going on and that way— being a better spectator.”

Dean poured a glass of orange juice and downed it before he looked at the detective. For once she seemed to acknowledge that Dean was capable of logical reasoning, and not dismiss him almost entirely as she had done earlier. It was a strange sensation. It also made him a bit calmer, as being heard was a very basic need. He cleared his throat, bringing the coffee cup to his lips, taking a sip before speaking:

"You're not wrong. It was mostly a hyperbole, honestly. I don't think Geoff entirely fits that- - what is it you blues call it? Profile? But he's definitely showing psychopathic traits, which is why I think he got so riled up from Emmy's comment. Hit too close to home, you know what I mean?"

He took another sip of the coffee, relishing the caffeine that he had been missing so much. 

"Also, I was thrown to what I can only assume is the worst room in this complex after the event. You'd be hard-pressed to find anything worse. Me and Emmy, for that matter, got thrown into horrible conditions. Emer after saying Geoff was a psychopath, and me after calling him out on it during the 'event'. If he's not in charge, he very likely has connections to the ones that do, since they seem to be punishing people that speak out against him. Unless it's all a 'grand coincidence'." Dean finished the sentence using his hands as quotation marks. All leads pointed to Geoff at this moment, he hoped the Detective would see that. Dean noted that he always thought of her as 'the blonde' or 'the detective', and he realized that he didn't know her name. She might've said it at the event, but he must've missed it. "Actually, I don't think I know your name? You might've said it in the dining room, but I was a bit preoccupied then, so I would've missed it. I think I introduced myself there, but in case I didn't: I'm Dean Gray, no relation." 

Dean then brought the coffee cup to his lips once more, savoring the darkness. 

[Carmen Edinburgh]

She placed the trays on the two opposing sides of the bed. Listening, mostly out of morbid curiosity as that same lingering feeling was consuming her. Nothing to do withDean, but something more... Insidious. Leaving her feeling slightly numb.
  "Because Emer said a psychopath had aimed a gun at her and other women, not knowing that Geoff was on the other side of the wall when she said this." Her gaze focused back on him and what he was saying, she had to just distract herself while she could. "His response was to, rather annoyedly, point out that that 'Psychopath' was right there, before raising his voice and making it about himself, fauxpology and all. Because that was definitely the most important part of that event, how he felt."
  She chuckled, “Well... He certainly shouldn’t have done that.” A bit of a jerk move, regardless of him being innocent or not. Even victims had to follow some type of conduct, wether they knew or not.
    —"You're not wrong. It was mostly a hyperbole, honestly. I don't think Geoff entirely fits that-" Letting out a dry smile, her gaze distractingly drifted to the corner of the room. “I’d just say it’s too quick to label anyone as such. Psychiatrist already have a hard time with that as is.” Let alone beginners like themselves. "- what is it you blues call it? Profile?" She nodded, “Profile, portfolio.. Anything like that.” Pretty easy. "But he's definitely showing psychopathic traits, which is why I think he got so riled up from Emmy's comment. Hit too close to home, you know what I mean?"—
  She sighed, the issue was that everyone did. The test usually listed that twenty or higher was an indicator of a psychopath. But she hadn’t investigated anyone that didn’t at least tick one of those boxes, “Again, quick to say and everyone would at least tick some of those boxes.” She, herself, got 13 on the test. Nodding softly. “I get it.” Blankly looking at him as she focused on her food, feeling her surroundings grow colder. Why now..? 
  —"Also, I was thrown to what I can only assume is the worst room in this complex after the event. You'd be hard-pressed to find anything worse. Me and Emmy, for that matter, got thrown into horrible conditions."— 
  Carmen winced, “Honestly, the world’s always full of suprises.” For better or worse. She felt bad, to put it simply. Even if she didn’t believe what he was claiming about Geoff, because even hyperbole can be damaging to someone else. 
  —"Emer after saying Geoff was a psychopath, and me after calling him out on it during the 'event'. If he's not in charge, he very likely has connections to the ones that do, since they seem to be punishing people that speak out against him. Unless it's all a 'grand coincidence'."—
  Coincidences could always happen, well... Geoff and Hannah were quote-on-quote married... That woman, the one that shot Lydia was alluding to Huxley about marrying a 'woman of status'.. Hannah and Geoff were in the room above hers and Cassim’s. So did she decide?
  —"Actually, I don't think I know your name? You might've said it in the dining room, but I was a bit preoccupied then, so I would've missed it. I think I introduced myself there, but in case I didn't: I'm Dean Gray, no relation."—
  Carmen then realized... And I didn’t realize.. That she hadn’t exactly told her name. “Carmen Edinburgh, detective constable.” Her basic introduction, even if some black, insistent little demon was coiling itself around her— tight and snug. Needing to distract herself, she just couldn’t help but pick something easy to nitpick. His name for example, after all... After 50 Shades of Grey, she just felt bad for anyone with a last name like Grey... Gray.. Anything similar, aged real well. That was sarcasm, “What do you do for a living?”