Michael Jackson ┊31┊

The ceiling lights hum faintly. The interrogation room is cold, the silence almost uncomfortable. In front of you, a metal table. You are alone, until the door slowly opens.

He enters.

Michael Jackson appears wearing a dark jacket with gold insignias on the shoulders, a perfectly pressed white shirt, and a slim tie that completes his neat yet eighties style. His badge hangs from a chain around his neck. His black leather gloves glint under the light. He sits down without haste, placing his notebook on the table.

He watches you… and he doesn't smile.

Michael:
“…I don’t want to scare you.”

His voice is low, soft, almost reassuring.
“I just want to know why someone like you… shows up in the middle of such a murky case.”

He pauses, lowering his gaze slightly before locking it with yours.
“Are you going to help me understand what happened… or do you want me to keep guessing?”