He directed his gaze away, staring slightly defocused, and off to his right.
Studies showed that people looked in different directions, depending on if they were accessing a memory, or making something up. For most onlookers, it was only a subtle, subconscious clue, but a trained observer would noticed, and be able to interpret what he saw. David doubted Rakitin had that kind of training, but it was better to be careful.
"Childhood things, I think. A woman who must be my mother. Someone younger than me, a brother. Eating, playing, getting in trouble. I think I went to school, later on. I seem to remember studying. I think I told you that before."
He frowned lightly, thoughtfully.
All of those things were true, a nonspecific summary of his life.
"Nothing...specific, though."
He let a note of frustration edge into his voice.
"Why?"
He shot his gaze at Rakitin, grey eyes intense and narrowed, almost accusatory.
"Why, Lieutenant? Why did this happen to me?"
Something gripped at David's chest, surprising him, constricting with an emotion that almost felt real. He swallowed hard, fighting it, forcing it back under control.
David shuddered. The sudden vehemence of it had almost been frightening.
He had to look away.
"Sorry," he said, briefly. "I know it's not your fault. I just..."
His jaw worked, and he let out a slow breath.
Control, he thought. He needed to master the situation, not the other way around.
David brushed a hand through his hair, and slumped back lightly.
"What about you? Talk to me, Lieutenant. Tell me what's going on. You said things were messy...is it about the murders?"
no subject
He directed his gaze away, staring slightly defocused, and off to his right.
Studies showed that people looked in different directions, depending on if they were accessing a memory, or making something up. For most onlookers, it was only a subtle, subconscious clue, but a trained observer would noticed, and be able to interpret what he saw. David doubted Rakitin had that kind of training, but it was better to be careful.
"Childhood things, I think. A woman who must be my mother. Someone younger than me, a brother. Eating, playing, getting in trouble. I think I went to school, later on. I seem to remember studying. I think I told you that before."
He frowned lightly, thoughtfully.
All of those things were true, a nonspecific summary of his life.
"Nothing...specific, though."
He let a note of frustration edge into his voice.
"Why?"
He shot his gaze at Rakitin, grey eyes intense and narrowed, almost accusatory.
"Why, Lieutenant? Why did this happen to me?"
Something gripped at David's chest, surprising him, constricting with an emotion that almost felt real. He swallowed hard, fighting it, forcing it back under control.
David shuddered. The sudden vehemence of it had almost been frightening.
He had to look away.
"Sorry," he said, briefly. "I know it's not your fault. I just..."
His jaw worked, and he let out a slow breath.
Control, he thought. He needed to master the situation, not the other way around.
David brushed a hand through his hair, and slumped back lightly.
"What about you? Talk to me, Lieutenant. Tell me what's going on. You said things were messy...is it about the murders?"