The Detectives Meet

Vincent touched Fox's ass, grinning.

"I'd actually love to see that," he admitted with a laugh.

He screamed loudly.

"WHAT DID I JUST SAY ABOUT TOUCHING ME?!"

"That you'd cut off my hand. Go ahead." He winked.

Fox felt his face get so red he wasn't even sure if he could respond with words.

He stuttered angrily, before he just stopped trying.

Vincent held out his arm.

"Shall we go to the scene of the crime, my young ward?"

He responded by kicking Vincent in the knee.

"I'm not touching you!" he snapped, crossing his arms.

Shrugging, Vincent lead the way into the house. There was a charred corpse on the floor; a team of forensic workers stood around it, snapping pictures.

"Take a good long look, Fox," he said fondly. "You don't forget your first crime scene."

He just stared at the corpse. He was never squeamish, not really. His dad has exposed him to enough gory, bloody crime scenes that nothing surprised him, anymore.

The smell, and the bustle of the people he hadn't been prepared for. It smelled absolutely horrifying. He frowned deeply. Perhaps it would have been better if he had thrown up; then he wouldn't feel so queasy.