I must be dreaming cause I don't believe in ghosts

[memento_corazon]

[Rosinante was late this morning, although Law knew why. He was picking up breakfast, he always offered to do it for them, and Law always put a little money in the heart shaped basket on Rosinante's desk to try to make up for it. Sometimes it got accepted, sometimes it ended up back on Law's desk, but the tradition of Rosinante bringing breakfast for them to work was a consistent.

It was one of many things that were constants for them. Rosinante got breakfast, Law looked over the early work that was set up for them, the files given that came from their superiors and he sorted out which ones he felt were needed to be dealt with first. Rosinante would skim through everything, he always did, the man was meticulous when it came to their cases. But Law usually had a good eye for what was important first.

Vintage dolls were going missing, and people spoke of seeing a 'centipede made of babies' in the distance. At the distance stated, this suggests a very large entity. And people are starting to feel compelled to purchase dolls and leave them out for this creature.

A cat in the next town had started supposedly speaking and telling fortunes in exchange for fish dinners. Everyone who feeds the cat has seen a rise in income, but feel unhealthily indebted to and will not risk not gifting it more food.

One vintage radio, Marine specific model, that tells the listener something dark they need to hear if put on the right station. The results have supposed driven nine people to suicide, no other information is had.

An apartment owner has sent specific information about a loud and repeating haunting. They've been aware of this haunting for years, a replay of a murder-suicide. However, the issue seems to be escalating and warping the apartment building.

Dozens of others are there, a house of VGGs, Victorian ghost girls, none of which ever actually are described in any way that matches children of that time period, all blond and blue eyed. Of course. Those are a dime a dozen, and hardly ever end with anything. This one though, one that slides out from the stack of ghosts and big foot and magic wells, says that the girl is beautiful, fragile looking, and the people who have encountered her feel like she's about to eat them the entire time. Law adds it to the four files above, on the top of the stack.

He's so caught up in his file hunting that he doesn't notice the sound of Rosinante's footsteps.]

Comments

[memento_corazon]

It was four years ago. It's over for them. The clinic was closed for a while, but it's safe and unaffected. So things went back to normal.

[Without him, however. Once the hunger for more of the paranormal, more proof, and more answers took root within him he was doomed as far as hospital work went. Thankfully, Lami followed in the family footsteps, his parents have plenty of help there.]

Normal enough, anyway.

[callada]

[He nods, holding that thought while he pays attention to the road. Traffic is light out here, thankfully, which gives him time to put more of his mind over to thinking about the conversation when he doesn't have to do things like stop at this intersection briefly.

Normal enough is the right description - anyone whose lives are touched by the paranormal are never going to see things quite the same way once they realize there's more to the world than what they had been led to believe.]

So your family - how much do they know now about what you do?

[memento_corazon]

Officially? Nothing. I don't give them a lot of details, either. It's risky. But they know the basics of what I do, and that I have a good partner who helps keep me safe. And that's good enough for them.

[Law isn't sure that he could enjoy this job as much without Rosinante. It can be frustrating, frightening, and sometimes depressing. But having Rosinante with him honestly helps make even the rough days bearable. And there are usually more rough and frustrating days than productive and fulfilling.]

In the records, the ones left from who worked the department before us, there were logs about a couple of things that would attach to people that spoke about them. We haven't come across anything like that, but I don't want to risk dragging something home to my parents and sister. And whoever else is in the clinic with them.

[callada]

Smart. I'm glad they're content with that, too. Makes it easier that they're so understanding.

[Presumably. But Law speaks of them fondly, and not with the exasperation of someone who is constantly being harassed about his job and coworker, so he can only assume good things.

Ahead lies their destination, judging by the sign. Farm Road 66 - there sure aren't many houses out here, so one of these in the next several minutes will be it.]

You want to take the lead on this when we get there?

[Rosinante is happy to do so instead, if Law would rather stand back and play foul-tempered not-quite-bad-cop. But maybe the guy has ideas brewing already.]

[memento_corazon]

I don't mind talking to her. It shouldn't be a problem. We're just doing a quick interview. [Law pauses. Should be is nice, but it doesn't always work out as it should.] But we're had a lot of easy situations become problems. [Conspiracy theorists can be erratic, even when they think someone is on their side.

Law makes a couple notes in his phone, and then gets back to taking in the countryside as they travel.

Something really hits him as they go further down the road, closer to the town in question. He can't put his finger on it at first, it's a hard to pin down what's pulling his attention. But then it hits, after Rosinante makes a turn.

It's perfect out here. There's no old tractors, no rotting barns, no abandoned buildings, none of the usual rough rusty piled up scrap that usually hits an area like this. It looks like it was taken right out of a country homemaking magazine, down to the little white flowers in the tall grass.

It's nothing that odd on it's own. But usually small low income rural areas tend to not be this meticulously maintained. And entirely clean looking for the great outdoors.] Hey, Rosinante-ya? When did you last see an animal? [He might have just missed something. But in the past, he's seen that areas that seem too good to be true usually are.]

[callada]

Dunno. Can't say I was looking for them.

[He's looking now, though. Out here on this farm road, shouldn't there be cows, sheep, horses? Birds on the telephone wires? He slows down a little, partly because they're close and partly because Law has good intuition and now he's really looking.

He hits the brakes and stares when they come alongside a field of corn, and every single plant is the same height, and every flower on the stalks are at the same stage of growth. With the breeze ruffling through the leaves he can't say for sure that the plants themselves are identical, but they're uncomfortably similar. It's at this point also that the radio station he'd had on low in the background fades out to static as if they've lost the signal.]

What was the house number again?

[Got to be one of these next few, he can only imagine, as he gives the car some gas and they get moving forward again.]

[memento_corazon]

[Law doesn't like this. He doesn't notice the radio at first, he's too busy keeping an eye out for any sign of bird or insect even. But there's nothing. No sounds of an animal's calls, no buzzing or flying, and nothing is scarier to him in their line of work than when wildlife abandons an area.

It's a sign that even nature knows something bad is here.

He shakes his head, and checks his phone again for the address when Rosinante asks. And that's when he notices the radio.] 667. [He messes with the radio a bit, changing the stations. But there's nothing but static on any of the channels, so he just shuts it off.]

[callada]

Of course it is. Why not be just a little off. It's absurd.

[Or maybe he's just desperately grasping for humor in their strange situation. It would be comedic if the house number was 666. Instead, it's just slightly askew like someone is trying to play a bad joke.

Maybe the corn thing was in his head. Maybe they're all cloned plants and that's normal. For all the skepticism he has, sometimes he gets a little too invested, doesn't he?

They pass a mailbox with 665, so it's the next one on that side. No cats in the fields, no birds darting across the road or sitting on the power lines, but eventually there's a driveway with a house at the end of it, set some distance off the road behind a windbreak of trees, so he pulls in.]

She's just the one who compiled the list, right? Why would the animals stay away from her?

[Might as well make sure he's following what Law is picking up on before they go knock on the door.]

[memento_corazon]

Why would the animals be missing at all? I don't even hear insects. And this time of year we should.

[The pristine look is starting to feel almost grating to Law. It's frustrating. It's too perfect and Law's stomach feels like it's got a weight in it while he looks around. Worse, while Law claims to love quiet, and often enjoys it thoroughly? The human body is conditioned to expect noise. Save for when the loss or absence of hearing is involved every moment from birth to death comes with a certain amount of ambient sound. And while yes, there's the lightest sound of the wind, it's distant. The sound of their own movements, the closing of the doors, the knocking on her door after the walk up...

It's all so much louder with just the loss of the expected drone that even the countryside should have.

A thin dark haired woman in her forties opens the door soon after, and it's like the world comes to life from inside of her house. The sound of a cat crying towards the back of the room sounds out, with the drone of some sort of machinery, the odd whirring sounds of an aging refrigerator, the chirps of several birds just out of view, and the serenade of soft vintage country music. He's never been particular fan of the genre but right now it's entirely comforting.

The break in the silence is a beautiful thing indeed.

It's not idyllic in here, either. This is a real country home, faded wall paper and the table right next to the door is nearly overflowing with letters and papers, there's dirt on the entryway rug too. It smells a little dusty, along with the scent of incense, and something baking too. The woman herself has either flour or powdered sugar dusted on her apron, and she's visibly irritated at the interruption.

It's real. That's why it all feels so good to him compared to the outside's false perfection and unnatural quiet.]

"Who are you? I don't want to buy anything. I know the lord and I have insurance. You should go home. Quickly." [She looks them over, with shrewd judgement.] "You're not here to sell anything, are you?" [Law shakes his head. He's not the best at this, Rosinante usually smooths things over so nicely when he needs to, but Law is invested today.] No, we're not. We hope you can help us with something. [She's not very interested, from how her nose wrinkles up and her brows furrow.] It's about the list. [Her whole demeanor changes when he brings it up, and she looks around nervously a little.] "Hurry in. Make yourselves comfortable, and goodness please watch your head as you come in!

[callada]

[There's no answer he can give that will satisfy Law's questioning, or his own for that matter, so he just shrugs. Hopefully they'll have an answer soon. And in preparation for what form that answer might take, he suddenly feels very conscious of where his pistol is. Just, you know, in case.

But the door opens and everything inside feels exceptionally normal, and that contrast is maybe the most jarring of all. He stares past the woman for a moment, assessing what he can see and hear and smell of the inside. Why does that door form some kind of boundary between two worlds? Why has the silence outside stayed outside? He's fine with letting Law talk in the hopes it gives him a few more moments to concentrate on this particularly strange puzzle.

No answer comes, at least not yet, but Rosinante watches the woman's eyes as the list is mentioned. The shift from average, bored, slightly annoyed, to seeming like there might be anyone watching around any corner is striking, but expected of the conspiracy types he's come across in previous missions, so all that skepticism comes flooding right back, pushing at his willingness to be taken in by the strangeness of her neighborhood.

Anyway, he ducks to enter and hits his head all the same, because that's his goddamned life, and the smack rattles his teeth. With one hand rubbing the top of his head, the other closes the door as he follows in after Law.]

Thanks. Sorry we had to drop in without warning, [he says, though it's just a courtesy. Giving some of these folks time to prepare means walking into a whole labyrinth of sticky notes and odd photos and string tacked to walls. Better to get the info without a whole theatrical presentation alongside it.]

[memento_corazon]

[When Rosinante hits his head, the woman gasps, but she leaves it when he seems alright. Law just sighs. He'll step in if it's serious, as always, but it very rarely is and a man's pride needs to be considered.

Especially since Rosinante is usually sorely deprived of dignity due to his clumsiness.] "It's fine! I wanted to share this with someone. Go into the parlor, help yourself to a sweet from the jar if you like. I've got to wash up. And let me know if you need some aspirin!" [When she gestures towards the sitting room, Law is a bit thrown off further. Yes, of course not every conspiracy theorist is a chaotic mess with hoards of papers and random charts and a mess of a house. But they often are unstable and unsettled. They tend to be erratic and off and hard to reason with. This woman isn't like that. She all but reeks of grandmother, and the pictures of her and her family that are placed around the room pretty much confirm it.

That said, they've dealt with a monstrous serial killer grandmother so brutal that she was mistaken for being supernatural. Age and appearances mean little in the end. But he does note that several of the older pictures are Marine focused.

He'd normally be less comfortable with sitting while someone he was going to interview was in another room, but there's a large open area that makes up the main room of the home, there's a bar that's being used to separate the kitchen where she's washing up. So she's within view the entire time.

That doesn't make it very easy to talk, though.]

[callada]

[Rosinante is just paranoid enough to wonder if those Marine photos were placed more prominently so that he'd notice them and feel like he should trust her, as if somehow she had managed to find out they were interested in digging into cases like these and had prepared for their visit.

Surely not.

But it's enough to get his metaphorical hackles up, as if they weren't already. The whole thing bugs him. Still, they're here to hear what she has to say, might as well get to it. He finds a seat in a chair that's too small and tries to keep his knees tucked close enough where he's not occupying half the room himself, then glances over at Law, shoulders shrugging slowly in a concealed sort of sigh, before returning his gaze to the woman in the kitchen.]

I'll be fine, thanks. Mind if I smoke?

[memento_corazon]

[Law is just waiting. He's got ideas but nothing concrete or even worth considering at this point. There are things that could be considered suspicious about the visit already, but also he sees no reason to jump to conclusions yet. All he can do is be prepared for whatever evidence she has.

Or doesn't have for that matter. Just because she seems legit doesn't mean she isn't another wack job wasting their time. At least they're getting on the clock either way.]

"Go head! There should be an ash tray around there somewhere!"

[It doesn't take her much longer to join them though, free of as much flour as possible. Law watches as she touches up her hair, grabs something from a table in the kitchen area, and starts to make her way back to them.

It looks like she's got a folder in her hands.

It's about then when Law is starting to wonder if Rosinante's lean towards strong skepticism is right. The more prepared they are, usually the more paranoid they are.] "Just tell me when you're ready to look through this. I'll answer any questions you might have, but I think this speaks for itself!"

[callada]

[Yeah, this is looking a little too rehearsed. Rosinante watches as he lights his cigarette, hisses and shakes his hand when he burns himself instead, then focuses on the cigarette this time so he can actually light it.

And then, with a lean, he drags the ash tray closer on the side table once he's spotted it, and glances at Law before nodding to the woman and holding out a hand.]

We'll have a look, thanks. I'm curious to see what you've put together.

[Despite his internal chagrin, he's pretty good at being tactful. Figures that's why Law kept bringing him along in the first place, once they'd met and done a case or two. At least he's good at acting.]

[memento_corazon]

[The woman hands over the folder, and seats herself in an empty chair. And Law just sits and waits while Rosinante looks over her files. They're not entirely professional looking, they were made at home and printed off on a printer with some flaws. There's a couple of water spots too. But the information is organized, and a wealth of information as far as a civilian's work goes. And there's far more information than what the webpage held.

Dellion Conway-40, Dishonorably discharged, arson and suspected robbery, (two months imprisonment) was seen at The Treasury five days after birthday. 6/4. Hung himself.
Cecil Marrins-40, Honorably discharged, partial paralysis after surviving base bombing, was at The Treasury on birthday. 6/4. Bled out after cutting his throat.
Issak White-40, Dishonorably discharged, dependency discharge, at The Treasury six days after birthday. 5/29. Drowned in bathtub.
George Sands-40, Honorably discharged, cancer diagnosis, visited The Treasury three days after birthday. 4/22. Electrocuted in bathtub.
Mack Fisher-40, Dishonorably discharged, unknown misconduct (can't get information on it), was seen at The Treasury two days after birthday. 10/2. Self-inflicted burns.
Laurence Roads-40, Dishonorably discharged, war crimes (one year imprisonment), visited The Treasury one day after birthday. 3/5. Bled out, cut three names into his body, could only get two of them though. Amari West, Meri West. I don't know them, not local. Names didn't show up in search.
Beauregard 'Bo' Watanabe-40, Honorably discharged, psychological condition (Unknown specifically), visited The Treasury four days after birthday. 4/11. Hung himself.
Mary Church-40, Honorably discharged, psychological condition (PTSD), spotted at The Treasury the day after birthday. 6/1. Hung herself off of Parson's Bridge during the Marine Memorial, rope snapped immediately. Not sure what actually killed her.
Marigold Fisk-40, Honorably discharged, seasickness, made a purchase at The Treasury five days after birthday. 3/16. They said she died from a head injury, accidental. Ellis White, a physician who worked at the hospital, says she bashed her head against the corner of a table until her brain was visible. He said she had already been given a sedative, and broke out of her straightjacket. He's been the best doctor we've had for over a decade, I believe him.
James Marple-40, Honorably discharged, psychological condition (PTSD), was at The Treasury two days after birthday. 9/26. Jumped off of the roof of The Treasury.
Kathryn 'Kitty' Walker-40, Honorably discharged, dependency discharge, seen at The Treasury two days after birthday. 11/7. Self-inflicted gunshot wound.
Mallon Smithson-40, Honorably discharged, unlisted reason (Came home with a lot more money than expected), was seen at The Treasury the day after his birthday. 1/6. Drowned in Mary Wessel's fish pond.

Another two names are on this list that weren't on the website.
Alfred Wendell-40, dishonorably discharged, drug use, was spotted at The Treasury five days after birthday. 3/31. Ran at the local police with a knife until he was shot down. Footage shows that he didn't take a swing at any point, knife stayed at side although he acted like he was going to cut them.
Dewey Birch-40, dishonorably discharged, assaulted a superior officer, was seen at The Treasury two days after birthday. 7/2. Self-inflicted gunshot wound.

All of the names have their own printed out page of information, obituaries, death certificates on some of them, articles from the news about their discharges on some. Besides their age at death and the location they visited within the week of their deaths, all of the potential victims seem to have the area in common. They're not all from one town, but they all came from the small towns locally that surround The Treasury.

The final page has maps on it, showing first the proximity of The Treasury to the local small towns. It's literally smack dab in the middle of three. The second map shows that a Marine recruitment center used to be right where The Treasury now stands. It was demolished, and the antique store took it's place there, apparently. A news article is taped to the back of the page, noting the lack of local wildlife in the last few years, and how trappers were unable to find any sign of animals living in the area that weren't housepets.] Let me see it when you're done please, Rosinante-ya.

[Law really wants to get his hands on it. And while Rosinante reads, the phone rings in the kitchen. And their hostess gets up.] I'll be back in a minute, sorry! Gotta get this. There's something else I want to tell you before you leave too." [And with that, they're left to their own devices again.]

[callada]

[The timing, like so much else here, is convenient. He scans over all of it, then leans over and passes it off for Law read while he watches her walk away, as if he'll catch some clue to her behavior.]

Let me know if you want quiet, [he mutters, low enough where she probably can't hear over her phone call. They'll want to be audible enough that she doesn't start to wonder why they're sitting in silence over this bombshell she likely thinks she's dropped on them, but a few private comments might be necessary here once Law has a chance to share his thoughts. This is well beyond some amateur investigative work.]

We'll have to ask if we can take this with us.

[memento_corazon]

Thanks. I'm alright for now. [Law takes the file from Rosinante, and starts to skim through it. It's organized, and he still has no idea if this is valid or not. He's not sure if this is just one hell of a string of coincidence, or if there's something sinister at play in this set of small towns. One thing is for sure, though. They know where they'll need to look next.

Meanwhile, their host's phone call is becoming increasingly intense. The woman's voice has raised a good deal from the quiet tone she'd attempted before, and Law sets down the file to listen to her begging.] "No, Emmie, please! I'll fly out to you, I'll take a break, we'll hit that fancy restaurant you like! And the clubs, all of them, I'll pay for whatever you want." [The pleading continues, and Law looks over at Rosinante. He's not even sure what to say. Or think. And he doesn't have much time to articulate his words, because the call ends and their hostess starts walking back to them.] We'll talk soon. I want to hear what else she has to say first.

[The woman returns, visibly upset, but she apologizes and seats herself again.] "Look, I don't know who you two are. But if you can get this information to someone who can help, you'd be saving at least one other life. The police can't help, the Marines insist that there's no connection, but once you're forty here and you've been discharged from service, you get called home. And then you go and listen to that stupid radio, and you're done for. And I don't want that to happen to my baby." [She gestures at the pictures, and points to a Marine woman in one of them that's hanging on the wall near her.] "Emmaline Graves. She was one of their best captains, she's great for inspiring a sense of real justice. Her health just got out of control, so she got her discharge. She doesn't live here, but all of the sudden she wants to come on home for her birthday. And I don't want her to be the next on that list."

[callada]

[Rosinante likewise trades him that sideways glance at the intensity of the call. Overhearing is way more important than dealing with the files - they have those in hand, they're not going to change right away.

She comes back, and he's about ready to give up on learning anything that way, but she does a helpful job of explaining most of it herself. Rosinante had half been expecting her to ask them to leave, was already preparing to get up, but instead he stays put and nods in sympathy, even if he really doesn't fully grasp what's going on here. Hell, he's barely even sure what questions to ask.]

We're listening. And we'll do our best, to save her life and others too. When's her birthday?

[What's their deadline, in other words.]

[memento_corazon]

[Law is so relieved that Rosinante has the right words to say, he tends to be too blunt himself or doesn't know how to respond in a way that sounds sincere. Rosinante can fake the right demeanor, he's a good actor when the situation calls for it. And his words bring visible relief to the woman standing before them, her tightly pursed lips and wrung hands releasing, shoulders slumping a bit as she speaks again.]

"Thank you, thank you so much! Her birthday is on the twentieth. I know that doesn't give you much time, but if you need anything please let me know. Some of the locals might not be very interested in speaking, but just say that Mrs. Graves sent you if they give you any trouble. And if you need food, rooms to stay, funding, I'll give you whatever I can! Just let me know what I can do for you.".

[Law frowns. It's the seventh. It doesn't give them much time at all, if this is something legitimate. So he stands, they might as well get right to it.] We need to take your research with us. [His voice is calm and firm, it doesn't leave room for argument. Not that he thinks she'd give him any trouble anyway.] "Of course! Whatever you need!" [Law looks to Rosinante, he's ready to leave now. It'll be safer and easier to speak away from here anyway. Rosinante's gift helps a good deal, but Law will still feel more comfortable discussing this elsewhere.] "If my colleague doesn't have any more questions for you, we'll be heading out."

[callada]

That's very generous of you.

[Really, he means it, though he's not sure what good any of it will do beyond their existing capabilities. Still, he's not one to turn down an offer of help - you never know when you'll need it.

For now, though, he stands, ready to go.]

I don't have further questions right now, but we'll be in touch if there's any way you can help us more. We appreciate everything you've already done.

[He offers a smile, sympathetic and a little sad given the circumstances, but hopefully it's encouraging. Something positive to leave her with as he follows Law out where they can talk more freely.

Well. After he stumbles and faceplants on the floor on the way to the door, but. No big deal. The car keys go flying out of his pocket and bump into his hand as he picks himself up. See? Nice. Totally intentional.]

[memento_corazon]

[Law watches as Rosinante smiles, and he feels a bit encouraged by it. There's something genuinely wonderful about his partner, and in moments like this Law all but adores him. He admires the man's ethics and ability anyway, but the woman has gone from desperate to hopeful in expression, just in response to Rosinante's words and smile. Law could get caught up in it easily, there's something about it that makes his heart beat feel a little faster perhaps.

It's a nice feeling, he decides. And he nods as a sort of goodbye to her, before everything goes as Law should have expected. There's a dramatic faceplant, the poor lady looks worried but all is well. And with her final words, a "Goodbye, and thank you again!" they're out the door.] Sometimes I think you're cursed. [It's not just that Rosinante is clumsy, he takes bad luck to a new level.]

[callada]

Who knows, maybe I am.

[He flashes an easy smile over at Law, then unlocks the car door and crams himself into the driver's seat.

But that thought's one that's going to worry him, isn't it? Curses aren't real, right? So much of what they run across in their line of work isn't real, as much as some people would like to believe it is.

Most of the time, anyway.

He shakes it off for now and starts the car.]

So, sounds like it's time to go look at some antiques.

[memento_corazon]

[Law has a deep sigh in response, and gets into the car. He'd be happier if he didn't know now that curses are real and possible, even if they're rare. He's pretty sure that Rosinante is just teasing him with the maybe, though.

Then again, who knows? It really hits Law that he knows virtually nothing about Rosinante. He supposes it's fine, they have a work based friendship after all, but a part of him really wants to know more. Still, it's not the time he thinks. They've got some antiquing to do.]

We end up at a lot of places like that.

[callada]

Like an old married couple, but cooler.

[Because, you know, which old married couples get to go find haunted artifacts and hang out in neighborhoods drenched in the occult?

Actually also there's a lot of things that make them nothing like an old married couple, but that's beside the point. Onward to the store, then, as he gets them down the road.]

So, what are you thinking? Any guesses before we get there? Demon-possessed book, maybe?

[Just a shot in the dark to kill time while they drive, but given the deaths and the lack of animals, demonic forces might actually fit the bill better than ghosts. Or maybe it's the shopkeeper to blame rather than an object inside.]

[memento_corazon]

[Law scoffs, but it's half-hearted at best.] The older couples have us beat. The only thing cool about us is our job. [Okay, that's not quite how he meant to say it, but if he goes back to correct it he'll just feel awkward. Besides, Rosinante brought up the couple comparison first.

He doesn't dislike the idea, though. And that hits him hard, weighing on him in a sort of confusing seriousness that he's unused to. It's not the time for this, it's not the place for this, but there's a part of Law that's distinctly pleased at the comparison in some weird way despite the sheer awkwardness of it.

He tries to push it aside and not think about it. And even if he didn't attempt to, all of the thoughts along that line would cease at the guessing game portion of the drive anyway.

There's usually a conversation like this while they're working, in some form or another.] We've heard of technology being used by the dead in the past. So why not demons? [He frowns, looking out the window again at the identical line of trees in the distance.] I wouldn't even think it was paranormal if it wasn't for how strange it is out here. I can think of a couple of ways this could be faked, but nothing explains the silence.

[Demons scare Law, more than a little. Not that he's ever faced one, personally, but if human evil is so awful and powerful, what can a being like that be capable of?] Have you dealt with anything truly demonic, Rosinante-ya?