Camren’s stormy blues snapped to the blond, smiling ruefully at the praise. Maybe it was a little vain that the little praise from the stranger puffed up his ego. Ego was a dangerous thing, especially for him if he wasn’t careful. He was just being polite. “No, it’s not.” He chuckled, letting his fingertips ghost along the long edge of a wound along the bodies rib. He really had little doubt this was professional, at the least made by someone who sure as hell knew what he was doing. “Nothing is concrete. A good profile takes more than one sample. It sorta follows the third date rule.” He added with a shake of his head. If his professor could hear him now, he would call him a fucking romantic. It would be a lie to say he wasn’t. He knew what he was. The guy who would remember you mentioning a week before you liked that watch and made sure he got that exact one for your birthday. Plan romantic getaways. He puts too much thought into everything.<br/><br/><br/>Though putting romantic concepts to murder?<br/><br/><br/>It’s just an analogy….<br/><br/><br/>“You don’t get to really know the best bits until then.” He shrugged, pulling his hand back from the corpse with a shrug. His heart fluttering at the idea of more. To get to see what made a mind like this tick? It stirred his morbid curiosity. Made his stomach flutter in a way that he chose not to put much stock in. “I rarely get that third date though.” He added, a playful smirk playing on his lips. He pulling the gloves from his hand delicately. “I always ruin things by putting them behind bars.” Okay, maybe he was having a little too much with this analogy, chuckling at his own joke. Looking back to the dower man who had turned back to labeling the molds, likely getting them ready to send up to the lab. “Lin, do me a favor, and see what colleges you can get in contact with that might have had similar cases in their district.” It sounded less like a request, and more like a friendly demand, or at least Cam tried to make it seem friendly as he gave the older man his best attempt at a charming grin. This was met in the usual Doctor Simon Lin manner.<br/><br/><br/>“Fill out the paperwork, send me the duplicates. I’m not skirting procedure.” Cameron<i>hated</i>red tape. The scowl that took residence on his full lips made that clear.<br/><br/><br/>“Seriously Lin?”<br/><br/><br/>“You heard me, now unless you have further business or can I get back to my work?”<br/><br/><br/>A strong and unsettling urge flashed through him at the denial, that made his glance linger on the line of scalpels, he biting the inside of his cheek before he turned back to the turned back of the man. “No, good night.” He bit out in the most pleasant way he could manage, turning on the heel of his foot, a brittle smile slapped on his lips, snapping his coat from the back of the chair, glancing at the blond, nodding towards the door before he stormed to it, pulling it open before exiting in to the dower stairwell, letting out a huff as he dug through his jacket pocket, unlocking it with a quick tap of four numbers. Quickly closing a web page as he navigated up the first flight of stairs, leaning against the railing, worrying his bottom lip between his teeth. Part of him tempted to spark up. Really at this point, he’d kill to have anything to do with his mouth. It helped him think clearer. He’ll have to settle for his lip at the moment. Fine, he’ll do that damn paperwork, but if Lin was going to be difficult? He had other methods. For a moment he forgot he wasn’t alone, he was so used to Joe. Joe taught him this, he had no reason to hesitate with him around to reach out to less legal means of information. Though while his partner was easier on the eyes then his grizzled old partner, he didn’t know how straight-laced he was.<br/><br/><br/>“So, Evens? Do you wanna go to the scene tonight or you wanna start bright and early in the morning? Switching precincts got to be a bit rough on you, huh?” He asked. The phone in his hand deceptively plain. It was for one reason. It wasn’t his official phone. Not the one he would use for work, for friends or family. That had the screensaver of his cat sunning in the window. No, this was a plain black, and clunky phone he still bothered to lock. Why? It was a burner, and one he rarely pulled out at work. Though today? Today he wasn’t at his best. He forgot for a moment where he was in his agitation of being denied, and he had pulled it out in front of Andres without thinking. Well, he’ll need to be more careful in the future…and maybe remember to take the pills when he knows he had a rough night. He was responsible for himself now, right? Joe couldn’t drag him back down to earth now, could he?<br/><br/><br/>He discretely, tapping on a number, a quick text sent. A time and place. The best part of a burner he didn’t have to worry about anyone able to track a text. It made dealing with a few close ‘contacts’ a lot easier this way. Sure as hell easier then what Joe used to do. People know faces, even when you had dirt on them. They weren’t crooked, but red tape needed to cut and more lives got saved when you didn’t follow all the rules to a T. He got his job done, and in the long run that’s all that matters. The how? Well, few asked and none got a straight answer. He was one of the good guys! What did it matter how he did goodanywayss?