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Snippet #885234

located in Modern Day New York City, a part of Operation Are You Really My Friend?, one of the many universes on RPG.

Modern Day New York City

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Sophia Isabella Rodriguez


They were now reconvened in Brittany's penthouse, but Sophia couldn't notice much going on. Her tears were dried up, but her mind still wandered, seeing Spencer's body smack into the bottom of the shallow reflecting pool. There were two theories circulating, both of them obvious options. The first was that Spencer had woken, severely hungover with extreme vertigo, and had stumbled out to the balcony and had fallen off accidentally. The other was that he'd been murdered.

As she thought, staring off into nothingness, Sophia couldn't help but lean towards the idea that he'd been murdered. She figured that if Spencer was truly that hungover, he would barely have the energy to get out of bed, much less the desire too. However, if he had gotten out of bed, he wouldn't have headed for the balcony. The sun was directly overhead, it's light severely painful to someone hungover. Sophia herself wasn't that hungover but the little light she'd been exposed to had hurt enough to make her want to hide in the closet for the rest of the day.

Tyler shifted on the couch beside her and she refocused on the present. Tyler was leaning foward, his elbows on his knees, his hands restlessly moving over his head. He was visibly upset, but he wasn't crying. His mouth was set in a hard line and his legs were shaking slightly. It was easy to see that he was angry.

Not knowing anything else to do, Sophia put her hand around his knee and tried to focus on what was going on. Michael was attending to Brittany, who'd passed out in Alicia's room after seeing Spencer below them. Ray was pacing nearby, his eyes narrowed at Michael. Was he jealous? Sophia let a small, amused smile play at her lips. In the midst of this tragedy, Ray was still focusing on Brittany, jealous.

Sophia was about to say something about her reasoning as to why Spencer was more likely a murder victim, but she couldn't before a knock on the door interrupted them. She couldn't exactly focus on what was being said, only what was happening. Apparently Michael had ordered Ray to go answer the door because Ray stalked off after frowning in anger at Michael. A final look at Brittany had mae his jaw tighten visibly.

Ray answered the door and a couple of police officers came in, along with two FBI officers, nodding at Ray but pushing past him abruptly. Sophia had to wonder, even slightly, what the FBI officers were here for. Spencer's death couldn't have attracted that much legal attention. . . Could it?

((Dreamalot: I'll let you control the Police.))

Ray Jones


He was touching her. Michael was touching her and Ray did not like it. Brittany was his as of last night and he was supposed to take care of her, not Michael. Michael wasn't even a dotor, he was a detective. What gave him the notion that he was more certified to take care of Brittany?

Ray paced behind near the two, keeping his eyes specifically on Michael. Alicia was freaking out, but Ray had long ago blocked out her nervous blabber. Michael was staying calm, casually stating that Brittany was in shock.

Brittany's eyes fluttered open and she spoke. Ray stopped his pacing and stared, his mouth slightly open in relief. "Michael?" she asked. She was confused , obviously not expecting Michael to be the one standing over her. Quite frankly Ray didn't think it would have been Michael either, but he'd been forced to submit and let Michael pass. The group didn't need a fight, not now.

Ray watched with frustration as the two of them talked and Michael took off her boot. What the hell was he doing now? Michael took her ankle and began massaging it, Brittany now sitting up. Ray looked over at Brittany, slightly hurt that she was allowing this; well, at least without having looked for him yet. She wasn't even looking around wondering where he was at. That hurt. Maybe she didn't mean it, but it still stung that her first reaction to all of this was submission to Michael.

A knock on the door interrupted them.

"Ray, would you please get the door? Britt needs to stay off her ankle for right now." Michael asked him, proceeding to immediately turn to Valentina. Ray wanted nothing more than to punch him right now. He was touching Brittany, massaging her ankle, and now ordering him around? "Would you mind getting me some ice in a Ziploc bag and a wash cloth please?" he asked Valentina. Of course he was ordering his own girl around now too. Who did Michael think he was, some divine, better-than-thou saint?

It took all Ray had to stalk off in his anger to answer the door. He would take care of Michael later; as far as his hurt with Brittany went, it could wait. He had more pressing matters. The police were at the door now and he had to make sure everything was accounted for. A quick look at Sophia earlier had suggested she knew more than she was saying. He would have to take care of that as well. He couldn't have nasty rumors flying around; it would make them the top suspects in this case.

As he opened the door and police and two FBI agents pushed past him, Ray was certain there was something bigger playing out, and that they knew more than they should this early in the investigation. This would not do. . .