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Detective Rustin Cohle (
2017-04-13 11:58 pm (UTC)
A wavering shift ghosts against the wall past the kitchen area, some kind of movement that is only briefly documented in the dying light. Rust ducks out of view of the doorway, and finds himself quickly put in a dead end. There's a pair of doors embedded into the wall, slatted wood that border a quaint pantry. He dives in quickly, pulls one of the doors fully shut, but has to leave the other slightly ajar -- exactly how Wray left them the last time he interacted with his pantry.
With his back pressed against the length of shelves, Rust can stand sideways unseen behind the shut door. Through the narrow gap between the doors, Rust can see into a limited angled view of the kitchen.
He doesn't see much, but he hears a soft commotion of someone handling what sounds like a pot on the stove. Rust's gun is still held in his dominant hand, with his passive hand wrapped around his curled fist, and he pulls his head up and shoulders back, as if he could melt into the pantry walls by sheer force of will. He strains his neck to try to see through the thin gaps of the wood in the door, but with their angles, all he can do is watch a line shadow slide across the floor.
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