Mhm. [Carefully laying the documents out] I vaguely remember this. The murder weapon was one of the props, yes?

— to take her place, it's still heartbreaking."

He lightly squeezed Ema's shoulder.

"If there is anything, /anything/ I can do, don't hesitate to ask. Okay?"

— into his inner jacket pocket for his handkerchief.

"Is something the matter?"

Where was that detective?

Miles scanned the crime scene, looking for that all too familiar lab coat. It was only when he heard a sniffle in an alleyway that he finally turned and spotted Ema.

All irritation melted immediately into sympathy.

"Ema?"

He stepped closer to her, already reaching —

izzy!!.

console!

No? Let me see the file again, and we can run through it together.

"I'm sorry. Here."

He grabbed the thermos, untwisted the lid and poured some tea into the little cup. Then he handed it to Corvin.

"This should help."

"Oh, you look dreadful." He set everything down on a nearby table and pressed his palm to Helms's forehead. "Do you feel nauseous at all?"

In he walks with a thermos and travel container.

Homemade miso soup.

He's coming by with ginger tea and soup.