[attr="class","intext"]"Scott, right?"  He took a bite of his eggs as he thought, feigning interest, "Well, him and his girlfriend, Vivienne, were yelling a few days ago. That happens pretty often, but it never ends in slammed doors or broken things. I'm pretty sure that's just how they fuck. I saw Vivi on my way out the next morning and she seemed happy enough. Treated me to some coffee." He paused for another bite. "There has been a guy in the halls that I don't know. We're a small building, so we all more or less know each other, but no one seemed to really know him. I think he said he was part of maintenance, so we kind of left it at that." He leaned back and he chewed the last of his eggs and didn't continue until after he'd poured syrup on his waffle and cut it up. "He's white and somewhere around six feet tall, I think. Haven't seen his hair, he's always wearing a baseball cap. He has a pretty gaunt face, though."

"As for how well I know him: We haven't really talked. I talk to Vivi more. He bought me a box of Lemonades from the Girl Scouts shortly after I moved in, though." Emilio continued between bites of his waffle, "I haven't lived in the building for very long, so I don't know a lot about anyone, really. Is he okay?"

The officer honestly looked pretty shitty today. Dark circles clung below his eyes and his hair was a half-assed mess. He didn't even look interested in the questions he was asking or Emilio's answers. The disinterest, messy appearance, and clear sleep deprivation made Emilio wonder if the man was depressed. Or perhaps he just hated his job. Emilio almost pitied him.

[attr="class","intext"]Ah, he really did look pathetic. Between how Elliott picked at his fingers and eyed the waffle, Emilio felt it somewhat obvious that he was hungry. While he had, for a time, taken some pleasure in the idea of eating in front of a hungry jerk, the novelty of it all faded rather quickly. "Sit back down, officer. I can't stand the idea of you leaving here looking that pathetic." Emilio ate the last piece of his waffle and, as he chewed, stood and took his plate to the kitchen. He quickly washed his dish, silverware, and the pans he used. "What do you want for breakfast? Oh, and I'm not feeding every other cop here, okay? Just you. I got enough food still for one person."

Emilio wore a simple face around Elliott. A more talkative, emotive version than who he was when he wasn't lying, wasn't acting. Elliott made Emilio uncomfortable, made something in the back of his mind say "You can't fool this guy." On one hand, Emilio was confident in his skills, but on the other, the man's eyes, however uninterested and tired they looked, seemed too sharp, like they saw too much. He hated it. It made him feel exposed, raw, vulnerable. Emilio wanted him out of his apartment immediately, but something stopped him from letting him go. Something made him offer to make him breakfast. Something in his mind said "if we get on his good side, then maybe he'll direct those eyes elsewhere. Maybe when they look at us again they'll be softer, less seeing, less knowing." Was it fear?

[attr="class","intext"]"We'll I'm going to the store later today anyway and this will clear up some more space in the fridge." Emilio casually replied as he dried the pan he was going to use. He placed it on a burner, but didn't turn the burner on yet, instead going to make a pot of coffee. Emilio himself didn't usually drink coffee. It was too bitter and he didn't like how he crashed afterwards. He instead drank juice or tea instead. Still, he owned a coffeepot since Morgan liked it and since he hung out in his apartment so much, it made sense to own one.

With the coffee brewing, he returned to the stove and turned the burner on. He dropped a small bit of butter in the pan and pulled a couple eggs out of the fridge. "How would you like your eggs, officer?" He asked, acting accordingly once an answer was given. In a few minutes, the eggs were done and served on buttered toast. He sauntered back to the table and set the plate and a clean set of silverware in front of the officer. He returned to the kitchen to pour him a cup of coffee. Emilio grabbed a small thing of sugar, a spoon, and a small container of creamer and set it all in front of the officer, allowing him to fix his coffee however he liked.

Emilio adjusted his underwear slightly as he walked to the living room and grabbed the PS4 controller off the table. He sat down and turned on the tv and booted up the system. He wasn't going to sit awkwardly at the table while Elliott ate. He needed a distraction, something to ease his anxiety. He paused, though, before actually booting up a game. "You just asked questions. Do I need to fill out an official statement or anything? Something to say what I know?" That was something witnesses had to do, right? Fill out a piece of paperwork detailing everything they witnessed? Emilio wasn't exactly sure if he counted as a witness, though. He'd heard some commotion around two in the morning and he'd relayed that information to the officer, but other than that little bit, he didn't witness any part of the crime.

[attr="class","intext"]Emilio nodded slightly, glad to know that he didn't have any paperwork to fill out. He booted up a game while the officer finished his breakfast. Hopefully he wouldn't take the breakfast as an invitation to stay even longer, that he was welcome here, because he wasn't. Emilio still didn't like him and certainly didn't want him here. Apparently, though, thing weren't as simple as "eat your breakfast and leave."

"So, the Doctor. What are your thoughts on him?" Emilio didn't freeze, didn't hesitate. In the span of a couple seconds, he'd dropped the controller he held and pulled a gun from a hidden spot, cocked and loaded and pointed at Elliott. There was the chance that this man was part of the Operation, but there was also a chance this man wasn't, that the cops knew, that the game was almost over. Emilio wasn't going to take the risk, wasn't even going to pretend he didn't know what he was talking about. The officer wasn't walking out of here until Emilio was certain of where his allegiance fell.

"Who are you?" Emilio asked, his voice suddenly empty, a cold sound without emotion. His eyes, however, were sharp, serious, threatening. Without pulling his eyes from the officer, Emilio pulled out his phone, his work one. He risked a glance away just long enough to bring up the camera. Whatever the officer said, Emilio was going to confirm it with Doctor X. He wasn't going to be fooled by sweet words and clever lies, not by someone who could ruin them. A few seconds was all it took to snap a picture of the officer's face and send it to Doctor X. He considered for a moment messaging Morgan, but decided against it. He could handle this himself. He didn't need his help. He watched the officer closely, watched his every movement, ready to shoot him if he made the wrong one.

Ah, but this most certainly wasn't an ideal situation. This officer wasn't the only one. There were the others here on the investigation and Emilio didn't have a silencer attached to this gun. If he fired, he'd be swarmed with armed police. There would be no way he'd leave with his life. He could at least take as many down with him as possible, although that might not be many considering the imbalance in fire power. He could try to escape through the window. He was only three stories up and there was the fire escape. However, the attention that brought onto him might bring attention to the Operation, might bring them to light and threaten everything they've worked for. If there was to be a shootout, it was likely best if he died here. After dealing with the keychain, though. Perhaps it was too obvious, too easily seen. If this didn't end in his death, he'd have to find a more subtle way of saying he was part of the Operation.