first investigation

[stagemanagers]

[Happy Friday, everyone! The end of a long week of traumatizing motives, meetings that become Come to Jesus meetings and a menagerie of cafe cryptids. All things considered, not a bad second week in a murder school.


The school feels calm and quiet as everyone rouses themselves from sleep but quiet can be awfully deceiving.]

Comments

[stagemanagers]

[Looks like ash! And, well, there's a burnt-up matchstick lying by the sink, so you can definitely draw that conclusion!]

[barberic]

[He'll smudge it a little with his fingers just to be sure, but well, that doesn't make him less confused.

Does it happen to smell like anything? Like alcohol or wood, or some other strong accelerant or fuel?

And are there any other traces of fire around?]

[stagemanagers]

[Doesn't smell like much of anything other than maybe smoke? There's no other traces of fire; it seems pretty localized to the sink.]

[barberic]

[Any indication of what was set on fire? How big was the smudge of ash and was it under the bowl or next to it?

Then I promise I'll look at something else.]

[stagemanagers]

[It isn't a hugely significant amount of ash, but it was under the bowl!]

[barberic]

[Hm......

Alright, what else is there to notice? In that general area or otherwise nearby?]

[sugarlumps]

Ugh, why is everyone being so gross and murdery in here! This is supposed to be a happy place where people make me pizza and junk!

[barberic]

[He was aware that one of his roommates was investigating with him, and yet he's still surprised to be addressed.]

What have you found?

[sugarlumps]

Blood and fish and spilled tea, it's super gross.

[Also there was a dead body? She hadn't talked to Mumble much- basically at all, but that's a thing.]

[She sniffs a little bit.]

[barberic]

Blood?

[That gets his attention, in a way. He's nauseated immediately, the floor of his stomach swooping out.]

Good God...

Can you tell me, dear, what this is in the bottom of this bowl? It looks like cream.

[He takes the bowl out of the sink and holds it out to her.]

[sugarlumps]

Ugh, gross.

[why are you showing her this]

I'm not touching someone's melty ice cream.

[barberic]

Can't say I blame you. I didn't touch it, either.

[Her answer seems to satisfy him anyway, though. He puts the bowl back in the sink, and then rinses off his hands.]

Let's get you a cup of cocoa, my dear, hm? And then we can worry about whatever this 'class trial' is.