Dr Henry Morgan (![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png)
livelongenough) wrote in ![[community profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/community.png)
undergrounds2015-08-19 12:25 am
livelongenough) wrote in undergrounds2015-08-19 12:25 am
Entry tags:
Everyday Goings On
A City Aglow
The Thames, as a river, is absolutely horrible. Completely filthy. But, standing at the rail of the bridge and taking in the sights, it makes London look beautiful.
He can remember the last time it froze over completely. The way he'd laughed at seeing the elephant led across it to prove how solid it was.
Just under his feet, there are grey slate slabs. He has them memorised.
"There you may print your name, tho cannot write
Cause num'd with cold: tis done with great delight
And lay it by that ages yet to come
May see what things upon the ice were done."
He remembers the gas lamps that gave way to electric lamps that became the lights lining the streets.
The city is far more ancient than he, and that is a welcome feeling. Many things are fleeting, but--
"London endures."
Time to Kill
"Fine," Henry says in his office at the Redbright Institute, seemingly unconcerned that his office door is open. "You have your uses. Are you happy now?"
His conversation partner?
His computer.
He has the Metro open in a window on his browser. Not that a computer can ever replace a newspaper, not really, but it is helpful in that he can keep up to date with New York and certain police investigations.
For a moment, his hand hovers over his office phone before he withdraws it.
It's not worth it.
A Familiar Face -- open to Guardians and/or ghosts
cw: talk of suicide
'I know you.'
Her voice is as soft as he expected. She's young, just a slip of a girl. Not even sixteen. Her dark hair complements her former complexion as she sits on his examination table beside her own body.
By now, Henry Morgan is no stranger to ghosts.
"Hello, my dear." After death, there was little reason to stand on ceremony, and she looked so fragile. "I knew I'd be seeing you soon."
It hadn't even been on purpose, that day on the Tube. He'd been waiting for his train when he'd noticed something off. Before he could even think about it, he'd taken the girl's arm and tugged her back before she could overbalance and fall off the platform.
When she'd looked at him with pain and despair, he'd realised she'd meant to fall.
They always found another way, if they were determined.
'You weren't supposed to.'
"Because everything ends after death?"
'Because I didn't want to die anymore.'
The Thames, as a river, is absolutely horrible. Completely filthy. But, standing at the rail of the bridge and taking in the sights, it makes London look beautiful.
He can remember the last time it froze over completely. The way he'd laughed at seeing the elephant led across it to prove how solid it was.
Just under his feet, there are grey slate slabs. He has them memorised.
"There you may print your name, tho cannot write
Cause num'd with cold: tis done with great delight
And lay it by that ages yet to come
May see what things upon the ice were done."
He remembers the gas lamps that gave way to electric lamps that became the lights lining the streets.
The city is far more ancient than he, and that is a welcome feeling. Many things are fleeting, but--
"London endures."
Time to Kill
"Fine," Henry says in his office at the Redbright Institute, seemingly unconcerned that his office door is open. "You have your uses. Are you happy now?"
His conversation partner?
His computer.
He has the Metro open in a window on his browser. Not that a computer can ever replace a newspaper, not really, but it is helpful in that he can keep up to date with New York and certain police investigations.
For a moment, his hand hovers over his office phone before he withdraws it.
It's not worth it.
A Familiar Face -- open to Guardians and/or ghosts
cw: talk of suicide
'I know you.'
Her voice is as soft as he expected. She's young, just a slip of a girl. Not even sixteen. Her dark hair complements her former complexion as she sits on his examination table beside her own body.
By now, Henry Morgan is no stranger to ghosts.
"Hello, my dear." After death, there was little reason to stand on ceremony, and she looked so fragile. "I knew I'd be seeing you soon."
It hadn't even been on purpose, that day on the Tube. He'd been waiting for his train when he'd noticed something off. Before he could even think about it, he'd taken the girl's arm and tugged her back before she could overbalance and fall off the platform.
When she'd looked at him with pain and despair, he'd realised she'd meant to fall.
They always found another way, if they were determined.
'You weren't supposed to.'
"Because everything ends after death?"
'Because I didn't want to die anymore.'
no subject
"She was standing on the roof -- suicidal. But she changed her mind. Before she could step down back to safety, someone pushed her."
no subject
"You sound terribly sure about this, was there a witness of some sort? I can't see one mentioned here..."
But the file may have not been updated yet, of course, or perhaps Henry's investigative methods are a little different to what he's used to. Can magic tell that much from a body? Lancelot wouldn't know, in truth, but that would make murder investigations a lot easier...
no subject
But the person responsible might be fully human. In which case, her story meant nothing.
"The young lady told me."
no subject
Lancelot blinks up at Henry a couple of times quickly, then his eyes widen in understanding. He knows Clara, of course, so this -- the idea of someone dead still communicating something is not alien to him. His expression pulls into an oh of surprise and his eyes drop to the file as he thinks.
"I see," he says finally, "that is certainly compelling as a testimony. I don't suppose she gave a description of some sort, something else to go on? I am not so sure he word alone would be enough to convict a person but... as a lead it certainly has power, if he we begin asking around for other witnesses who might have seen someone that meets her description... look into who might have had a grudge enough against her or Millicent..."
He pats down his jacket pocket a little, tugs out a pen finally and clicks out the tip to begin making notes as he thinks. The testimony of a victim in this case might help and hinder both, of course, if they cannot find much else to back it up.