SAW: Hoffman

Neighbours

The noise woke him first.

'What the hell?' He snarled mentally, throwing a dark coat over his rumpled shirt and trousers carelessly.

He listened again as he knotted his tie, cursing under his breath as a dog barked in the apartment downstairs, breaking his concentration.

"Be quiet!" A low voice hissed from across the hallway, "I don't want to wake anybody up."

'It's too late for that now, sweetheart.' Mark growled as he sauntered towards the kettle, pawing for a cup as he passed in his zombified state.

The clock on the wall read 7 o clock in the morning as he checked his phone for messages from the office.

One new email.

"Oh for-" He paused as he opened it and sighed gratefully. Just another email from some company he'd never heard of.

Another crash sent Mark flying into action before the kettle had finished boiling, propelling him towards the front door of his apartment in record time.

He flung the door open with a curse posed on his lips and glared at the short girl frozen outside the door with a huge cardboard box in her hand marked 'Videos'.

"What the hell do you think you're doing? Huh?" He demanded harshly, feeling the strain of the investigation taking its toll.

"I'm so sorry." She cried hurriedly, "The moving van arrived early and I wanted to move my stuff out of the way before anyone else woke up."

"I wouldn't worry about that, you've already woke the entire building up. Listen, maybe you're not from around here, but here in L.A you don't disturb anyone. You do another stunt like this and the police could be at your door for noise complaints."

The girl bit her lip and dropped her eyes as Mark continued to glare at her from beneath his scruffy brown hair.

"Look," He sighed finally, "I'll carry some boxes for you to save you the hassle. My name is Hoffman."

The girl raised her head and smiled gratefully, though her light brown eyes remained cool.

"Do I not have the pleasure of knowing your first name, Mr Hoffman?" She asked lightly, gesturing towards a pile of boxes.

"Detective." He corrected immediately, "Detective Mark Hoffman."

"Detective Mark Hoffman." She repeated slowly, "My name is Cyan Rivera, though Cyan will do just fine. I've been waiting to introduce myself."

"Nice to meet you." He grunted as he lifted one of the heaviest boxes, "What brings you to L.A?"

He hated small talk and he hated people, not necessarily in that order.

"The fresh air and kind people, obviously. I'm a student studying law and I'm staying with a friend for a while."

Mark instantly threw a wall up between them at the word 'law' and continued to work in silence, giving short, clipped answers to her questions about the forensic department and the city itself.

"There, that should be it." He said brusquely, "I have to go to work now, but let me know if you need anything else in the future."

Was that the appropriate thing to say? Mark had no time for pleasantries since his apprenticeship.

Being around the Jigsaw killer tended to do that to a person.

"Thank you for your help." Cyan replied politely, seeming as lost as Mark with social interaction, "I'll see you out."

"No, no. I'll see you around." He smiled awkwardly, feeling his lips turn up into the cold sneer that often greeted him in the mirror.

"Mark?" Cyan asked hesitantly, "I have one question for you. Have you ever heard of Jigsaw?"