log ✫ it won't be too soon 'til i say good night moon.
Another day, another drama in which to involve herself. In fairness, this one seems to have been dropped directly on Hasibe's doorstep - and further psychic examinations of the pull-up area where the limousines come in reveals distinct traces of supernatural power, but it's faint, like something borrowed. That gives her a few clues, but she's not sure how much to reveal to the police officer she seems to have decided is the primary crime-solver on this case, which she thinks speaks well to his abilities, even though she's noticed that he comes accompanied. His partner seems more hands-off- she doesn't know why, but it doesn't seem relevant beyond her personal curiosity in Inspector Morray.
Hasi finishes her part in the stage show early, because tonight there's a special guest (some woman named Ramona from Spain who is apparently touring), but that suits Hasi fine, because she wants to mingle in the crowd and make sure she can keep an eye on what's going on. The stage lights block out too much of the onlookers for her to get a good view. In a sleek black Fendi dress with a sheer neckline, she charms and flirts her way through a throng of strangers, memorizing all the faces new and old, and wonders if she should actually press gently at the edges of the minds she meets to discern who among them might be harboring homicidal thoughts, but honestly--
Well, probably a few of them are, without intending to do very much about it, humanity being the mixed bag that it is, and furthermore, if she's right about this man who's killing their clientele, he's got just enough prowess to know when someone's poking around in his psyche when they shouldn't be. Not a good look to get caught in. So she'll rely on her wits instead, and turns down most of the drinks offered to her, observing with the sharp eyes of someone who's very good at pretending it's only casual interest.
Nothing teaches you to lie like years working for Cameron Mancini, Hasi thinks, ruefully, not missing her old employer and old line of work (well, maybe the latter, sometimes), but nevertheless aware that this knowledge of faking everything and being everything to everyone all the time, like all other kinds of knowledge, came at such a high price. Still, she doesn't want to think about what - and who - she misses tonight. No time for being melancholy, not when there's a murderer potentially about.
For now, she might as well enjoy the freedom- and dance while she's out here.
(That's the part she's really good at, and even here on the floor, people watch.)