Try as he might, Andy can't tell at all whether or not the detective believes a word of what he's telling him. It's hard for him not to look away outright as the man stares him down coolly, absorbing the information in silence. To be honest, it's a little unnerving - the detective doesn't blink, not once, and his gaze is so intent that Andy can't help feeling like he's being x-rayed. Forget Colonel Shelton or Major Ellis, he's got the staring contest champion of the year right here.
He's relieved, then, when the detective agrees to review his records, though the response is so flat he still has no idea if the officer believes him or if he's just humoring him. He's expecting the visor to come back down, but instead the detective's eyes just kind of glaze over, as if he were a computer in the process of rebooting.
Feeling decidedly uneasy, Andy shifts his weight from one foot to the other and tries to resist the urge to give running away another go. He might be human after all, but clearly the armor the detective's wearing isn't just a fancy suit.
"Are... you okay?" he asks hesitantly, to no response. He's starting to wish it had been another cop, any other cop, that had caught sight of him. Because yeah, they would have probably just dismissed his story outright and stuffed him into a squad car, but at least then he'd know what was going on.
Squirming uncomfortably in his current hunched position, Andy's just about ready to reconsider the decision to not run away when the detective just... snaps back, as suddenly as he'd spaced out in the first place. The unreadable brown eyes focus right back in on him again, and the officer announces his findings flatly, without preamble.
"A charity auction?" Andy's face betrays incredulity, first, and then an involuntary grimace of what's equal parts horror and disgust. The idea of Chucky's remains falling into the hands of some well-meaning philanthropist, probably with a family of their own, makes him want to throw up. "Please, you have to let me go, you have to let me find him before that happens. He'll pull himself back together and kill them all if I don't stop him."
no subject
He's relieved, then, when the detective agrees to review his records, though the response is so flat he still has no idea if the officer believes him or if he's just humoring him. He's expecting the visor to come back down, but instead the detective's eyes just kind of glaze over, as if he were a computer in the process of rebooting.
Feeling decidedly uneasy, Andy shifts his weight from one foot to the other and tries to resist the urge to give running away another go. He might be human after all, but clearly the armor the detective's wearing isn't just a fancy suit.
"Are... you okay?" he asks hesitantly, to no response. He's starting to wish it had been another cop, any other cop, that had caught sight of him. Because yeah, they would have probably just dismissed his story outright and stuffed him into a squad car, but at least then he'd know what was going on.
Squirming uncomfortably in his current hunched position, Andy's just about ready to reconsider the decision to not run away when the detective just... snaps back, as suddenly as he'd spaced out in the first place. The unreadable brown eyes focus right back in on him again, and the officer announces his findings flatly, without preamble.
"A charity auction?" Andy's face betrays incredulity, first, and then an involuntary grimace of what's equal parts horror and disgust. The idea of Chucky's remains falling into the hands of some well-meaning philanthropist, probably with a family of their own, makes him want to throw up. "Please, you have to let me go, you have to let me find him before that happens. He'll pull himself back together and kill them all if I don't stop him."