Rosa concentrates, opening her mind to the psychic residue left on the street. What she's doing is subtle enough that she doesn't worry about Stiles noticing anything strange. She gets faint impressions of a variety of people, most of whom she doesn't know, passing through the square, but nothing relating to Stiles. It's already been too long to get a reading of his return; there's no hope at all of seeing his removal.
When psychic abilities fail, sometimes good old-fashioned eyesight does the trick. Brushing the dust off her knees, she stands and scans the square.
"If we assume our captors built this place, they could have put in ways to pump chloroform into enclosed spaces, or ways to drop chloral hydrate into water reservoirs. Hell, for all we know this could be the town-sized equivalent of Holmes's murder castle."
Still nothing. "Speaking of chloroform, you didn't smell anything when you were taken, did you?" There is a note of resignation in her voice -- this has been a waste of time.
no subject
Rosa concentrates, opening her mind to the psychic residue left on the street. What she's doing is subtle enough that she doesn't worry about Stiles noticing anything strange. She gets faint impressions of a variety of people, most of whom she doesn't know, passing through the square, but nothing relating to Stiles. It's already been too long to get a reading of his return; there's no hope at all of seeing his removal.
When psychic abilities fail, sometimes good old-fashioned eyesight does the trick. Brushing the dust off her knees, she stands and scans the square.
"If we assume our captors built this place, they could have put in ways to pump chloroform into enclosed spaces, or ways to drop chloral hydrate into water reservoirs. Hell, for all we know this could be the town-sized equivalent of Holmes's murder castle."
Still nothing. "Speaking of chloroform, you didn't smell anything when you were taken, did you?" There is a note of resignation in her voice -- this has been a waste of time.