"Oh! So that's how it is." The Black man blinked his large eyes, stroking his chin with a look of sudden realization before his shoulders sagged. "But what does there being no alcohol mean? Our suspect is a minor under seventeen, so they couldn't buy alcohol at the supermarket?"
K raised a hand, signaling his partner to stop talking and take a break.
He thought quietly as the forensic team began working on the corpse on the table, then nodded.
"Agent Su means that our killer might not have known what wine to pair with the meal. It may have only recently arrived on Earth and learned how to entertain guests, but had no idea how to choose alcohol."
Deathstroke smiled and rose from his chair, seemingly to avoid having the people handling the body splash blood onto his white suit.
"That's one possibility. Its cooking skills might not have been fully developed either. It made a mishmash of Western food, Chinese food, and Japanese cuisine for the table, cooked all the other internal organs, yet left the intestines and stomach behind because it didn't know how to prepare them."
"Ugh! Stop talking. I'm starting to suspect all three of you used to be serial killers. Why would anyone study how to cook people?" J shook his head wildly, baring his teeth in disgust. "I've changed my mind. Just tell me where we're going to catch the guy. I don't want to know the reasoning process anymore."
Su Ming and K exchanged glances and smiled faintly before both shaking their heads.
"Don't know."
"Let's keep looking."
Their words differed, but the meaning was the same. There was simply too little to go on from what they could see so far.
"Ugh." The Black man sighed.
J casually handed the crystal