<div class="floatleft">(https://elliquiy.com/elluiki/images/c/c2/33671584_m.jpg)</div><strong>Name</strong>: Geirharður Ingimarsson (https://elliquiy.com/forums/index.php?topic=245148.msg12117979#msg12117979)<br/><strong>Location:</strong>Interrogation Room, OHSPD Headquarters, Mega City Ohio<br/><strong>Time &amp; Date:</strong>1300 1 April 2110<br/><strong>Tagging:</strong>Officer Akimov (https://elliquiy.com/forums/index.php?topic=245148.msg12117688#msg12117688), Francis King (https://elliquiy.com/forums/index.php?topic=245148.msg12117902#msg12117902)<br/><strong>Mentioning:</strong>N/A<br/><strong>Wearing:</strong>Suit (http://image.dhgate.com/0x0/f2/albu/g2/M01/BD/97/rBVaG1RdulWANSnOAAG0fIlYetk803.jpg)<br/><hr/><br/><span class="bbc_font" style="font-family: georgia;"><strong>I don’t give a shit. It’s not like this is my house or anything…</strong><br/><br/>Bowing his head—mostly to hide the amused smirk that cocked on his face at Peter’s demeanor—he unbuttoned his jacket and shrugged it from his shoulders, maneuvering it off until it was folded backwards over his chair. Gael sat before him then in a long-sleeved dress shirt and waistcoat. The poor guy was layered, and if he had known his interview would take place in a sauna, then he might had dressed like Frank too.<br/><br/>The Scandinavian sat a little forward in his chair, his back and rear not leaning against the rest and his hands uncurled and resting upon his knees. While Peter was fingering through his folder of who knew what dirt he had on him, Gael was watching him closely. He was completely engaged in the interview. He might have receded into his thoughts for a moment until Peter’s sigh brought him back to reality. He watched him drop his file haphazardly upon the desk and then got comfortable in his chair.<br/><br/><strong>Quite the pair of eyes you got there…</strong><br/><br/>Peter’s words struck him like lightning, and its crippling jolt nearly made his breath thin as ice started bleeding up his spine.<em>He knew it.</em><br/><br/><strong>Doubt that a cop on your salary could afford them…</strong><br/><br/>He proceeded to analyze him, sharing with him his disbeliefs.<br/><br/><strong>…The recorder is off…</strong><br/><br/>Gael glanced over to the machine and despite the great upheaval that was going on inside of him, he was able to wear his best mask. It was a good thing that the room was sweltering otherwise his apprehension could have been presumed to be the sweat currently drenching his brows and pits.<br/><br/><strong>If you tell the truth, or at least a convincing enough lie, you get to stay for the interview. If you like though, you get the fuck out, and never get a chance at the Squad again…</strong><br/><br/>This guy wanted to eat him alive…and even though he was being put on the spot, all he thought about was Frank; disappointing Frank; upsetting Frank if he didn’t get the job. He honestly didn’t know what to do or say. He didn’t want to tell him the truth…at least not the full truth.<br/><br/>There was a long silence once Frank finished. It was a silence that lingered that Gael hadn’t even known existed for he was so deep in his thoughts, trying to come up with a question for Mr. Peter Akimov and the story he was going to weave for him in return for that question.<br/><br/><strong>Once we ask these questions, and leave this room after the interview, we completely forget what was said…</strong> he recalled him saying that as delayed of a recollection as it had been. He had been so focused on the more horrifying details that he nearly had missed the ones that might have mattered.<br/><br/>The quiet was disturbed as the soft sound of Gael’s lips parting was heard louder than normal but that could have been because the silence that had descended upon the room had become so thick. He asked:<br/><br/>“Are you afraid of them…The Psychos?”</span>