Grant knocks on the door to the apartment - when he sees motion behind the
peephole, he holds up his badge. "It's Detective Sutton." he says. 

You hear the deadbolt drawn back, and the sound of the chain being removed
as well. The door slowly opens to reveal the silver-haired Kelly wearing a
too-large T-shirt and shorts. She nods slowly, perhaps a bit warily. "Good
evening Detective." 

You say "May I come in? I'm just following up about the other night. You
know, for the report." 

Grant says this very casually, as if it's no big deal at all.

Kelly exhales a slow breath and nods slowly. This isn't too unexpected,
after all. "Of course." She stands aside, so that Grant can enter. 

Grant comes inside and his eyes wander casually across the apartment as he
finds a place to sit. He takes out his notebook and a battered stub of
pencil. "I spoke with your friend Illyana." he begins. "Did you two go to
the club together?" 

The apartment is fairly clean, a two-bedroom obviously. There are some
papers scattered over the living room coffee table, as well as an open
laptop computer. She motions to the couch, "Have a seat. Is there anything
I can get you to drink?" She heads towards the kitchen and shakes her
head. "No, I went to the club by myself. Illyana showed up." 

Grant nods. "Oh, some water would be nice. Thanks." He puts the notebook
down on the side table and scribbles something at a 45 degree angle to the
lines. "So you two were there and...let's see, a couple of people said
they saw someone hassling you, a woman. That was just before the fight?"

Kelly nods, getting out a glass and some ice cubes and pouring Grant some
water. "Yeah...Shane was in a fight allready, and then this woman started
making remarks about getting mutants out of the city. I guess it took a
while in the lights and all for her to notice who she was talking to."

Grant nods. "Was she physically moving towards you, or threatening you?" 

Kelly barks a short laugh as she hands you the glass. "When she figured
out what I was, she tried to pull her hair out! I'd say that's
'threatening'." 

Grant takes a sip. "Tear your hair out, do you mean?" He scribbles
something. 

Kelly blushes faintly and nods. "Yeah, pull my hair out I mean. Sorry,
just remembering it gets me all worked up, if you know what I mean." 

Grant nods. "That's okay, just do the best you can." he says genially, in
his most relaxed tones. "So, there was a fight, you and the woman were
watching, she started making comments, then she noticed your appearance
and began to attack you...then what happened?"

The thing that grabs, and holds, your attention, is her pale coloration. 
White hair, or maybe even silver, straight as threads of silk and just as
fine. It floats about her head and shoulders, catching the light about her
and forming a soft halo about her. Past her waist, past her hips, it
floats with the passing breeze, curling in the wind. Her features are
fine, delicate, and a bit sharp, all of alabaster white. You might think
she were an albino but she lacks the red eyes. Instead, orbs of shining
quicksilver look back at you, the centers dark, deep pools, that watch you
almost knowingly. As you take in the rest of her, there is an odd elfin
quality to her entire body, with her sharp-angled cheekbones and pointed
chin, slanted, almost almond-shaped eyes don't discourage the impression
either. Her limbs are long, the muscles standing out cleanly beneath her
skin and sliding gracefully like eels in water as she moves. She's clad in
a short pink skirt with matching pumps and tank-top. Over that, she has a
white denim jacket on, the sleeves folded up to her elbows and the hem
only comming down to her last rib. Standing at about five foot seven she
looks almost frail, her form thin and light, though impossibly toned. She
still manages to have all the right pleasing curves, but that only
increases the almost alien beauty she has, like someone's idealized
version of a human instead of the real thing. She looks 'normal' enough
that it's -possible- to pretend she's only human, but those looking for
mutant traits, Kelly is a prime target.

Grant(#929PXnce)

        This is a man in his late twenties in a rumpled, ill-fitting,
obviously off-the-rack grey suit. It would be easy to peg him as a
government employee, or an insurance agent, except that his shirt is a
sort of very dark navy blue, and his tie is a bow tie, unknotted and
perfectly black, hanging down loosely out of his collar. His hair is black
and combed straight back from his forehead, shaved on the sides, and his
blue eyes are only visible if he takes off those little octagonal mirrored
sunglasses.
        His skin is vaguely tan, like he spends a lot of time outdoors but
manages not to get much sun in the process (smoggy skies, I guess), and he
has the sort of wiry, athletic build that comes from exertion, not
exercise. His voice has a Brooklyn accent - his body language is vigorous,
brash and confident. 

"Well, she pulled my hair, I grabbed her wrist, then the next thing I know
she's falling down and everyone's screaming 'mutie!' and stampeeding. I
felt like i was in an episode of 'Wild Kingdom' or something." Kelly
replies, sitting down and flipping her hair over her shoulder.

Grant nods. He flips a few pages of his notebook idly (not once does he
stay in the lines, apparently). "A few people said they saw a flash of
light from below, did you see that?"  

Kelly frowns faintly, looking thoughtfully. She saw the woman die of
course, but tries not to remember it. "My hair was mostly in my face, and
with the club's lights, I can't say for sure." 

You say "So you just saw the woman fall...were you
standing near the dance floor?"  


Kelly shakes her head, "No, we were near the back of the club. I try to
keep a semi-low profile...Like not sitting in the front row." She admits.
"I'm not willing to hide in the closet, but I don't go looking for
trouble."  

Grant grins rakishly at her. "Looking for trouble is my job." he says. "So
she fell where...in front of you? If she was reaching out like so, she
must have fallen pretty close. Did you see any blood?"  Grant extends a
wiry arm up almost theoretically, like Kelly was in front of him instead
of in the chair opposite him. 

Kelly smiles weakly and then nods. "I thought I saw blood, and I -know- I
cut her arm accidentally when I grabed her. It was more reflex than
anything else. But when I looked back later, she was gone, and I didn't
see any blood... I assumed that I was see ing things in the light and
she'd run off. One thing to call someone a mutant, another to have them do
something to you, you know?" 


Grant nods. "Cut her arm accidentally...with what?" he says. 

Kelly brings her right hand up in front of you, the palm facing her as she
displays her long, though not exceptionally long chromed fingernails. They
don't look particularly menacing at the moment, perfectly ordinary except
for the colour. "Just me." 

Grant examines them briefly, tapping the tip of the pencil on the
pad before scribbling something. "Okay. So you saw some blood, you felt
her fall away from you, but you didn't see her on the floor?"  


"I did see her fall to the floor, that's about where I turned around and
started to try and get away. I don't relish being in the middle of a mass
of people that'd like to see the colour of my blood." She drops her hand
back down to her lap. Her fingers t wist together absently, perhaps a bit
nervously, and a very faint ripple surges under her skin. 

 Grant nods. "Okay. So you didn't see anyone dragging the woman away.  Or
cleaning up the blood, or anything like that. You didn't see her getting
up and going to powder her nose. Or anything like that." he says.

Kelly shakes her head. "The last thing I saw of her was her on the floor." 

Grant closes his notebook. "How long have you known Illyana?" He puts down
his pencil. (Wait a minute.)


Kelly blinks in mild surprise at the change in question.  "Uhm... Not
long. A week maybe?" She shrugs. 


Kelly frowns a bit at that and shakes her head. "She's from
somewhere....else. I'm not sure I understand or know where from. But she
doesn't get simple things, like music or smiles, or saying 'hi'. It's
kinda creepy." 

Grant nods. "Do you think she might have reacted...impulsively, if you
were attacked?" 

Kelly shrugs, "I have -no- idea. She sure didn't -do- anything that I
noticed, but, like I said, I had my hair in my face." WIth hair as long as
hers, that's a very real reason. 

Grant nods. "Okay, well, I think that just about wraps it up." He picks up
his notebook and tucks it away. "I'll contact you if you need anything
more." He takes a business card out of his jacket pocket (NYPD - Major
Crimes Division, Metahuman Emergency R esponse Team Director of
Investigations) and hands it to Kelly. "Give me a call if you remember
something, or if anything happens that I should know about."


Kelly takes the card and glances at it first before looking back up and
stands. "Of course..." She replies. "I'll see you to the door..." 

Grant nods. He saunters towards the door. There, he pauses. "It's not easy
being out in the open. But trust me, in the long run, it's better out
here." 

Kelly frowns faintly, trying to figure out the meaning of Grant's words.
Openly being a mutant? Illyana's seclusion? She nods slowly as she mulls
it over.  "Thank you for your concern, Detetive.." 


Grant leaves with an enigmatic smile. "Not a problem. Good luck." he says.
He stuffs his hands in his pockets and saunters down the hallway with a
sort of brazen confident New Yorker stride.