chapter word count: 479

noir heart: fifteen

The next hour is spent asking the same damn questions but phrased differently, broken up by the odd few minutes of small talk.

And the answer is always the same – Elsa was upstairs in her husband's study, reading a book when heard sounds of a struggle coming from the living room, and as she left to investigate she heard a gurgle of pain and then the sound of spraying liquid. Frozen in fear by the sound, it wasn't until she heard the front door close that she felt safe enough to leave the safety of the upstairs hallway to investigate, and that was when she saw her husband's body.

Put simply – Elsa's usefulness as a Ripper witness approaches that of a chocolate fireguard.

"One more time, just so I can get it straight in my head." he says exasperatedly, pinching the bridge of his nose in exasperation. "You didn't see the murder of your husband, you only saw the aftermath."

"That's correct." she answers meekly.

"And you can't think of anyone with a grudge against your husband."

"I am so sorry, Detective Frost. My husband was an imperious, domineering man, but I can't think of anyone who would wish harm upon him." she answers sadly. It still strikes him as odd that she is not in tears – losing a spouse is one thing, but losing them to a murder is another.

She's probably still in shock. Yeah, that's it.

He feigns a yawn once more – something that, again, Elsa doesn't mimic – and vigorously dry wipes his face as though to stave off lethargy.

"Sorry," he offers while exhaling loudly through his nose, "long night, rough morning."

"There's nothing to apologise for, Detective Frost." she answers – and that's when he notices it. Her voice has become smoother, silkier and altogether different from the quiet and meek tones that graced his ears up to that point.

Especially when she adds, "After all, asking the same questions over and over again must be draining for you."

He looks up, and sees her watching him intently. There's a twinkle in her eyes now that's far removed from the dull shine that used to exist, and colour has taken place of the pale complexion. She's looking less and less like the catatonic, grieving Elsa Black he first laid eyes on when Aster opened the door, and more like a confident, focused, intelligent woman.

And as he holds her unbroken gaze – silent, watchful, interested – that's when it clicks.

He utters a hum as he writes three words onto the pad. "Sure you don't want a drink?" he asks, half-smiling knowingly as he underlines them, before he rises to his feet and heads to the door.

A smile curls her lips. "Coffee would be lovely, thank you."

jpbake: You shall see!
sara99: Heh, well if there is a relationship, it's not going to be conventional.
k.j. mcdaniel: Possibly. We shall see! Thank you for reviewing!
fantasy oh yea: Indeed. Thank you for the review!
whitelunanight: You shall see in the next...five? drabbles.
kira: Well there are always lots of options and reasons, but sometimes you need to follow your instinct.
miki fubuki: haha, I love the last lines too. First lines are always the hardest, for some reason. I can spend a day working out what to type first. You might like "seventeen", as it should be a world of snark.
e-teens: Sorry! It's not intentional, honest! Thank you for reviewing - and you have a very nice and unusual name, for the record. Hope that's not inappropriate.

Thank you to everyone for reviewing!