[sblock=Otter]Physically, Keihn was a mousy specimen. He was short, thin, had thinning light brown hair, and the shiny skin of the dome on his crown nearly met his advancing widow's peaks. Otter pegged Keihn in his early 50s--the age when many men were coming into their own and exuded an aura of confidence and power. Keihn exuded power, but it was edgy. Nervous. Thinking back, she wasn't sure who was in charge here, Keihn or Bukowski. Keihn had mentioned that Garvey would be leaving her post in October this year--the start of the government fiscal year. Perhaps he
was angling for Garvey's job. He did seem very keen for Garvey to arrive. And he was playing a game of some sort, she was certain. He'd started off the morning's visit quiet and collected, but as time drug on he'd become talkative. Chatty, almost. He'd baited her into argument twice. It dawned on Otter than Keihn was stalling for time.[/sblock]
Keihn put a hand in a jacket pocket. He smirked at Otter, said nothing, and crossed the carpet of the office to lean over Esmeralda. He examined the dead girl, peeled back her soiled and tattered clothing so that her breast laid bare, red nipples juxtaposed against a grey pall of death.
"It will never pass into nothingness; but still will keep a bower quiet for us, and a sleep full of sweet dreams, and health, and quiet breathing." Keihn's words were audible, but only just. There was a rhythm to his phrasing. He traced a manicured nail down the line of Esmeralda's jaw, his touch both macabre and loving.
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OOC:
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Otter may make an attack of opportunity, if you like. She's within melee range and Keihn is casting a spell.
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