TW: Mention of physical injuries, such as bruising, abuse and kidnappings

Logan and Roman waited for Virgil in utter silence upon the final floor, by his room. Neither said a word to each other and neither moved from their spot. It was starting to make Roman's' legs hurt and he wanted to sit down more than anything. He glanced towards Logan but quickly looked away when the two made eye contact.

Logan cleared his throat. "I shall warn you now, Roman," He said. "I am not going to go easy on him."

"Let me guess, you're going to accuse him of murder," Roman growled quietly.

"This is a police investigation, Milton," Fired Logan. "I'm accusing everyone but us of murder. From Miranda in the village to your little boy toy. Everyone."

Roman folded his arms. "Everyone except Patton, hmm, Croft?"

"Did I say I was excluding him?"

"Actions speak louder than words."

Logan clenched his fists and took in a deep breath, trying to ignore his anger. "We are here for the fingerprints, Milton, and that is all. I am not going to accuse him of murder until we get back the prints from the murder weapon."

Roman sighed loudly and began to look over his nails, ignoring Logan. He listened, instead, for footsteps coming up the stairs. The sooner Virgil arrived, the sooner they could get this over with and finish the case. The dark shadowy staircase brought back memories of Portsmouth.

It had surprised him that such a bright city could have such a dark staircase. You'd think there'd be some sort of electricity but there hadn't been any in that basement. The only lighting there had been when he had burst in with the team was just the flickering thin beam of light from a thick, barred window which let it's' captives see only a three-centimetre gap of the street above. God, that had been a dark hell. Roman shivered, remembering the dewy, damp air, the cold walls and the ways all the hostages had drawn back with a scream from the police's' torches and their noise. And the bruises.

There were so many bruises. Black, blue, purple and even brown. The red, raw marks of the gritty ropes and zip ties around the hostage's' wrists and ankles were bad enough, but so many people were bruised to the point of near disfigurement and Roman didn't want to remember the little kid, with a bust, swollen lip, who had to go to hospital. He felt himself shiver again, this time with a tiny, sad sigh.

Logan glanced up. "Are you alright?"

"Yeah," Roman answered quietly. "Just thinking. About... weird stuff."

"Mhm," Logan responded, arching a small eyebrow. But, thankfully, he didn't continue the conversation and Roman focused again on listening for footsteps.

For a minute, there was silence until a small, light set of footsteps began to quietly echo up the stairs. It made barely a noise at first until it got closer and it surprised Roman how little those stairs actually echoed. It always sounded louder when you were walking them.

Virgil emerged, hair ruffled, probably from wearing his riding helmet, and he was busy looking at his phone, scrolling up continuously with one finger while his spare hand rubbed at his wrist through the sleeve.

"Mr Blacksky," Logan announced, making Virgil jump. "We're here to talk."

Virgil looked at Logan first, before slowly switching his gaze to Roman. "What about?"

Roman tried a smile. "We're just here for some fingerprints. You don't have to worry-"

"Unless," Logan interjected quickly. "You have something to hide." Roman glared at his friend.

Virgil hesitated. "So... How does this work, then?"

"Simple," Logan said, shooting Roman a cold stare briefly. "Could you invite us in?"