May

Anderson sat across from Hanes in his office. The two not sure what to say, so they opted to stare at each other in a tense silence hoping the other would know how to approach the situation. 

“The public can’t get involved.” Hanes spoke with a firm tone. Of course the public can’t get involved, but then again when wasn’t it? This wasn’t their first run in with unruly journalists, though, this seemed to be more unruly than most others.

Sitting on the desk was a snippet of an article of which described Anderson as a Wolf in sheep's clothing. It takes one to know one, after the circumstances of Dr.Raymund Stevens’s death that has been made abundantly clear. Who knows what will happen to the next murderer that waltzes into the wrong streets. The two stared at the article. 

“I don’t know what to tell you.” Anderson leaned back in his seat with folded arms.

“We can’t let anyone near the crime scenes anymore… We need to be on our best look out.” Hanes exhaled. “And you need to be on your best behavior.”

Anderson’s brows furrowed. Takes one to know one. It stuck with him long after they had left and found themselves standing in front of a body.

It felt all too familiar, like he was staring at the work of a dead man. The body propped up and posed as rigor mortis stiffened it to mere impossible movement. Posed as one of the many delicately sculpted statues of Venus, hunched down and kneeling, holding her shoulders. Anderson felt the pit in his stomach twist and turn. She was placed carefully, thoughtfully, in the woods surrounded by flowers. Tree branched slouched and framed her as if this was a body months in the making.

“Rather artful.” A familiar voice chimed from behind, Posh and Silvery. “Statue of Venus, looking over her shoulder over Rome. Though unfortunately the statue no longer looks as beautiful as it did in it’s day.” Dr.Grohm approached Anderson, Hanes smiled and patted his friend’s shoulder.

“Atticus! I didn’t think you’d take up my offer.” Hanes sounded more than happy to see him. But why was he here? Why did Hanes offer for him to tag along? The two could see the confusion and dismay written all over Anderson’s face.

“Your offer?” Anderson inquired, his voice held a certain tension and annoyance under the layers of calm.

“I offered Atticus to start working closer with us, he’s got some knowledge we could use with uhm-” Hanes looked to the doctor with a lack of memory.

“Floral messages, and an extensive knowledge of art and anatomy.” He spoke with a rather cheerful and warm expression that sent an uneasy feeling through Anderson’s head. “I promise I won’t be anything more than an observer.”

Anderson looked closer at the body, finding more and more similarities. With a gloved hand he prodded through the flowers and found the unnerving lack of stomach and intestines. Sifting through the flowers he found himself staring at the vibrant greens of Ferns and the soft cool tones of Blue Periwinkle flowers. He felt the looming presence of something wretched place it’s self firmly behind him, he braced himself with squeezed shut eyes and held breath. But to his, perhaps discomfort, came a voice.

“Periwinkle, Blue.” Grohm spoke gently as he leaned down. “They’re sending a courtship of friendship. An artistic offer of allies.” 

Michael furrowed his brows, his eyes fluttering open as he processed the lack of claws digging frantically at his skin. “Do you mind?” His voice, though cold and annoyed, was laced with shock. Did he truly know that off the top of his head? 

“Not at all.” Grohm gave him a smile, the two simply staring at each other for a moment before Grohm pushed his glasses back into the nook of his nose. “Ferns, Fascination.” He pursed his lips in thought.

“They’re luring someone out, someone who would know about these things. They’re- obviously fascinated…” His tone had danced it’s way into sarcasm, his eyes scanned through the corpse and it’s missing organs. “They can’t face them, they’d rather tear out their gut instincts than face them.” As he dug further, pulling out and placing the flowers into evidence bags, he found a single pink flower that tumbled out of the cavern and into his hand. He furrowed his brows and turned his head, finding himself a little too close to Grohm’s as he shifted his weight.

Grohm had a furrowed look, he knelt down and with gloved hands carefully took the flower. An odd expression coming over his usually monotonous and emotionally lacking face. 

“What is it?” Anderson’s eyes shifted between both him and the flower. It wasn’t in full bloom, as if it was yearning to be something much more.

“Zephyr… Expectations.” Grohm’s pale brown eyes once again peered through Anderson. They peered through as if to look more so at the person hiding inside Anderson than the person he let everyone see.