A light rain had begun to fall over Gotham again that night, but it was not as bleakly cold as the usual endless drizzle. Though the rain was a little chilly, the damp air drifting in through the crack in the window carried a refreshing crispness.
Schiller, sitting by the bed in a state between sleep and wakefulness, hung up the phone and sighed softly. Merkel brought in a cup of hot tea, set it before him, and said, "Another murder, sir? Should I prepare your coat?"
"Ah... of course." Where Merkel could not see, Schiller's eyes shifted slightly. Then he immediately reined in the vivid expression on his face, replacing it with one of solemn gravity.
He cleared his throat lightly and said, "Prepare a suit. Any of the ones I used to wear will do."
Merkel looked somewhat surprised. "You don't let me near your wardrobe, remember? Oh, I understand. Actually, you're another—"
"I'm not. I have business. Go prepare the clothes."
Merkel did not ask another question and turned to leave. Schiller sighed, took out his phone, and fiddled with it. In truth, Greed was checking Pride's recent call records.
He had to visit the murder scene, but he was far too unfamiliar with the people of this universe. The best approach was to disguise himself as the Professor Schiller they knew.
Greed sighed inwardly. Pretending to be Pride was truly difficult. If only there were some broccoli right now. If he put on a performance of dying on the spot, everyone would believe him.
Merkel brought the clothes over. Schiller frowned slightly, looked up at Merkel, and asked, "Where is the brooch?"
"Uh, you want to wear a brooch? I'll go find one." Merkel looked at Schiller with some suspicion. "What style do you want?"
After