Fynn stared blankly at the body for a long time.  Even with all his years in New York, the closest he had ever been to a dead body proxy through the evening news, or passing by a hospital.  He sat down heavily as the woman wailed, a strange mixture of curiosity and astonishment on his face.<br/><br/>He got up and stood out of the way as people came and went, a detached numbness washing over him.  He noted everything that happened in that analytical part of his mind, then stored it away to study later.  He tried to be reassuring to anyone that said anything to him, and before the paramedics arrived he was outside.<br/><br/>Lighting a cigarette as thumbed a number into his cell, Fynn slipped his sunglasses back into place and listened to his messages.  His eyes noted all the people moving through the scene; the paramedic that coughed, the pale ruber-neck that really looked like he shouldn't be driving, the attendant at the store across the road sipping from a bottle of flu medicine.<br/><br/>When he got the message that his meeting was called due to illness, Fynn actually started to feel a little worried.