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<br/>
<b><i> nesryn tóth  — the tired detective .</i></b>​</div><span style="font-family: 'Times New Roman'"><div style="margin: auto; overflow: visible; max-width: 439px;background: #0000000;text-align: justify"><div style="text-align: center"><span style="font-size: 12px"><b>Mood:</b> Unamused. || <b>Location:</b> His office at the agency. </span>​</div><br/>
Death brought questions to people. The most obvious, it seemed, was how it had occurred. Had it been kind or had it been painful? Was it calm or was it gruesome? Was it involuntary or had someone's hands been the cause of a soul's destruction? These questions were ones that were often solved at the Sunfield detective agency. It was a higher-salaried position at the Sunfield police station, a disorderly brick building that had been set in the center of the city some odd fifty years ago. There was an expectation in the precinct -- one that included humans and supernatural creatures alike. <br/>
<br/>
<i>You stick to yours and I'll stick to mine.</i><br/>
<br/>
Nesryn knew supernatural creatures were entirely classified from the outside world -- save his fellow officers and detectives. Yet, the distinctions between his profession and a human were extremely varied. Supernatural crimes were often placed in his lap, an expectation after the seven years he had spent working there. Creatures of the night tended to be more violent and more methodical in their crimes than any human could be. It was easy to recognize -- especially with the increase of violence that had sprung up within the last few weeks. <br/>
<br/>
Nesryn Tóth sat in his desk chair, his head resting in his palm as he took a sip from his coffee cup. The ice clinked together as he set it aside, slim fingers brushing through the sheets of paper spread across his desk. He had been given a new assignment that morning. One that spoke of a killer with intent. Several of the murders of note had been from the more well-known supernatural families within the city. A cousin here, an uncle there -- a vampire here, a werewolf there. All deaths had been gruesome and with each new body that rolled into the morgue, the less likely it was to identify them besides their DNA or their teeth. <br/>
<br/>
He had been instructed by his lieutenant to await his partner before he looked over the files. However, he hadn't been able to help himself. Long lashes brushed over his dark cheeks as he took in the words, completely consumed by one of the cases. The intent behind it, the lack of evidence, the unidentified suspect, and the total inability to pinpoint a probable cause. It seemed whoever was behind this spree had kept their intent close to their chest.</div></span>