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</div></div><br/><br/><br/>Taking into account that Amadan had been held on suspicion of a terrorist act resulting in the homicide of a city official for close to 24 hours without sleep, food or drink, the Romani didn't find it at all unrealistic to ask for legal representation. He would have a lawyer in case he decided to sue the Austin Police Department for holding him in custody without reasonable or probable cause sometime in the near future. It wasn't as if Amadan had tried to evade or resist being arrested, which would have given the cops a good reason to detain him. Not so in this case. When the cops and non-uniformed detectives showed up at his home, he agreed to come along with them solely based on the belief that they only wished to ask a few questions.<br/><br/>Until the few turned into many, and his patience was becoming frayed at the edges. An interpreter that could speak Spanish had to be called in, since English wasn't Amadan's first language and a few minutes of grueling questions had turned to countless hours. He was hungry, and needed something to sate his appetite, even if it was just a bag of Lays potato chips. It was a shame he couldn't shift while being detained at the precinct. The pair of doughnut eaters that had just left the interrogation room would have been the first ones on his menu. Amadan's raw umber depths bled to a hematite gloss, as they sent a barrage of suspicion fueled questions at him like arrows.<br/><br/>Still recovering from the mental wounding, his spider sensed the environment around him that continued to reek of hidden danger. As his gaze met that of Tony Deschenes and remained fixed there, an itchy, almost tingling sensation began to form at the base of Amadan's skull. Instantly, he perceived someone in the room had attempted to breach the metaphysical barrier cloaking the nature of the spider lurking within his human shell. The purpose of the metaphysical shield was to prevent detection by humans. During the time Amadan voiced his distress, he busily parsed his surroundings, identifying and critically evaluating the possible threat at a seemingly pre- or sub-conscious level.<br/><br/>The information was then furnished instantaneously – if not before the fact – to his conscious mind. He knew it wasn't the female interpreter scanning him, it was the male detective that sat across from him at the table.<br/><br/><i>"Qué lector inteligente de la mente,"</i>Amadan muttered the thought under his breath, scrambling them to the point of being indecipherable to the interpreter.<br/><br/><br/><div class="bbCodeSpoiler">
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<div class="bbCodeBlock-content">Translation: I have a mind reader on my hands."</div>
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</div><br/>It appeared that whatever he'd already said about his treatment thus far had stuck in the detective's mind, Amadan watched Tony catch himself, and dust his ass off as if he'd tumbled 25 ft down a crevasse and correct his steps before forging ahead. He could play a wicked game of mental chess, but it appeared that Detective Deschenes was in it for the long haul. Not like the twin nitwits that left without the confession to their crime. Something was different about him, and that was what set Tony apart from the rest of them. He quickly patched up the hole in his metaphysical web with enough low-level psychic energy, making it impenetrable while his present company regrouped.<br/><br/>Amadan's leg slipped against the metallic part of the interrogation table, where the vibrations he picked up on through his acute sense of touch told him everything that the detective failed to relay by word of mouth.<i>Let's see, you are going to get me something to drink, aren't you? Amadan thought to himself,</i>while contemplating the meaning of the expression on Tony's face. Amadan had ascertained its meaning before the man could even think the action into existence. His penetrating gaze followed the detective as he rose from his seat, and left the room. Instead of lowering his gaze or resorting to a staring contest with the woman left behind in the room, his eyes remained focused on the door to the room until it opened again.<br/><br/>Tony appeared at the interrogation room door holding two glasses of water. Amadan wouldn't argue the point that it wasn't a can of Coke, mainly because the detective was kind enough to get one for himself so he wouldn't just be drinking alone. A faint smile of appreciation for the act of kindness flickered over his lips, remaining there as Tony settled back onto his seat at the table. It was a simple gesture the detective made that the others wouldn't even indulge, and their treatment of him called into question whether innocent until proven guilty even mattered in this instance. It was a fair exchange now. The detective cooperated, and Amadan would return the courtesy.<br/><br/>When the detective placed the glass of water in front of Amadan, he seemed to know that they would swab it for DNA in order to merge the new findings into their investigation. Inwardly, his spider retreated deeper because it had to, to allow only the human part of Amadan to be examined. If the result came back inconclusive or undeniably human, then they would also find out that Amadan couldn't possibly be their suspect, nor did he have a track record of committing any past crimes. Amadan picked up the glass with elegant, long fingers that were attuned to plucking on the chords of a stringed instrument.<br/><br/>"You are kind, detective. Thank you, water is good." Amadan replied, unceremoniously bringing the glass of water to his mouth.<br/><br/>The clear glass seemed to be suspended in the air for a few minutes during the time it took Amadan to drink four long swallows of the much needed refreshment and drain the entire glass. He was very thirsty, and the more liquid his sustenance was the better. Water was a poor substitute for sustenance, but would bide him time. The empty glass was set down on the table, and Amadan was certain it would be whisked away for a fast assessment of viable prints as well as genetic material. Amadan's attention shifted to the question at hand, Amadan's expression turned thoughtful as he lifted his gaze to the ceiling as he recreated the day of his supposed involvement in such a horrific crime.<br/><br/>"I suppose its fair for the nice man that gives water to ask a question," Amadan mused, placing his hands on the table so that each of his fingertips touched the other.<br/><br/>Amadan glanced towards the interpreter, who translated the part about the the lawyer in terms that he could understand. The raven-haired male made a soft snorting noise, and uttered back in rapid Spanish,"<i>¿No he estado aquí el tiempo suficiente?</i><br/><br/><br/><div class="bbCodeSpoiler">
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<div class="bbCodeBlock-content">Translation: Haven't I been here long enough?</div>
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</div><br/>Javier De La Cuertas, the interpreter, translated Amadan's statement back for Tony, "Mr.Vélas asked, hasn't he been here long enough?"<br/><br/>Amadan waited for the interpreter to relay the message first, before answering in Spanish for clarity's sake, especially since the detective asked where he was during the morning but gave times relative to night time activity. Amadan's brow knitted together in a confused furrow as he asked,<i>"¿Qué le está pidiendo día o noche?"</i><br/><br/><br/><div class="bbCodeSpoiler">
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<div class="bbCodeBlock-content">Translation:"Do you mean the morning or night?"</div>
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</div><br/>Javier turned to look at Tony, as he relayed the message, "He is confused by your question. Do you mean morning or night?"<br/><br/>The interpreter clarified the answer for Amadan, and Amadan was able to answer the question."It was my turn to cook supper for residents of<a class="link link--external" data-proxy-href="/proxy.php?link=http%3A%2F%2Fwww.casamarianella.org%2Fadult-house%2F&amp;hash=1600b09131f88def19a5c4b0d6e9d584" href="http://www.casamarianella.org/adult-house/" rel="nofollow ugc noopener" target="_blank">Casa Marianella</a>from 3 to 6 PM. I make the supper first then I eat with residents before ESL 1 class begin at 7:30 PM, and I stay until finish at 9 PM. After class, I ask my teacher, Cesar Navarro, homework questions. Then I work on the bicycles people donate to Casa Marianella. I do that for two hours, then I drive to my home in Forest Oak. I not play any violin for neighbors Tuesday night, it was too late. I go to bed for sleep after that. " Amadan explained.<br/><br/>What Amadan said differed from previous explanations of what he had done that night, because he spoke about what he was doing up until he returned to his tiny home in the Forest Oak Community. Amadan spent a lot of time working on his English proficiency and he volunteered to help as much as possible with cleaning rooms, making repairs that were needed and cooking meals for the recently-arrived men and women immigrants and asylum seekers the charity served. He felt he was giving something back, and in return coming out of his shell a bit more to make necessary connections with new friends. Even though Amadan qualified to live there, he was determined to maintain the tiny home he shared with his fiance before his untimely suicide.<br/><br/>"I was tired, and I sleep until morning." Amadan answered, sincerely hoping that he could go back home after Detective Deschenes was done with the questioning.