SAW: Hoffman

Coffee

Her question echoed in his mind as he walked into the main building of the LAPD.

'Mark, have you ever heard of Jigsaw?'

Hoffman smiled twistedly to himself as he imagined of the horrified look on Cyan's face if he spoke the unspeakable truth.

'Oh yes, I know him. In fact, I started an apprenticeship with him around five years ago. Building traps to punish people for their stupidity and lack of appreciation for life, it's actually pretty interesting once you get into it. If you wait around for five minutes, I'll get you the flyer.'

He pushed the office door open and threw his coat down, staring at the memo on his desk in silence.

'Hoffman,' It read in barely distinguishable handwriting, 'You received a phone call today from Jill Tuck about a possible lead. She asked you to meet her at the clinic at one o clock today.'

Hoffman threw the memo into the bin and checked his watch, trying not to stare at his reflection. The sight of his emotionless blue eyes haunted him each morning, but detachment was necessary for his line of work.

A picture of his sister on his cabinet behind the desk stared at him accusingly, and Mark wondered if she could see him now. He imagined that she would be weeping for what little soul remained inside his emotionless shell of a body, weeping for what he had done to the one who had taken her from this world so early, leaving Mark alone...

His eyes dropped from the beautiful smile on his sister's face as he fought for control over his suppressed emotions. Even now, the sight of the photograph caused a physical pain in his heart as he thought of life before Jigsaw. The life of community service and laughter, not alcohol and torture.

He had never cared for her boyfriend, he had told her so on numerous occasions, but Angelina was too stubborn and too messed up to listen. She depended on her new partner for everything, and eventually that dependence led to both of their deaths.

Cherish your life.

After burying his emotions in the deep dark places of his mind, Hoffman sat down at his desk and began to write notes on 'possible leads' from numerous 'anonymous' phone calls across the city about Jigsaw.

"Hoffman."

They never called him Mark.

Detective.

Detective Hoffman.

Hoffman.

But never Mark.

"Yeah?" He asked coldly, forcing a neutral expression and slight smile. When had he forgotten how to smile?

He couldn't remember.

He didn't care.

"Did you get the memo?" The secretary asked coolly, placing his coffee in front of him without the trace of a smile. What was her name? Alice? Amanda?

No, definitely not Amanda.

"Yes, thank you." He frowned, already returning his attention to his work. Years ago, before the whole Jigsaw incident, Mark would have charmed her with a smile, offered to take her out to dinner.

Now he had no interest.

His heart had died with his sister.

His soul had withered with her boyfriend.

His compassion had ended with John Kramer AKA Jigsaw.

Alice left his office without a word, slamming the door behind her as she did so. Mark gritted his teeth in irritation at the sound.

Mark glanced up at the clock on his wall and cursed.

He grabbed the cup of coffee and headed out of the office, deciding to leave the coat draped neatly behind his chair. It didn't look like it was going to rain.

"He's so rude." A voice hissed from around the corner, "He barely says thank you and doesn't even make eye contact."

Mark paused to listen as Alice continued to describe him in detail to the desk worker, Robinson, even going as far as imitating his cold voice and pulling the demented sneer which served as his smile.

"I hate-" She paused suddenly as he came around the corner.

Mark smiled inwardly to himself as he paused by the desk to file a folder away. There was a plant pot beside him.

The old Mark surfaced momentarily, and he had a plan.

"You know," Robinson said loudly, his back towards the ignorant woman as he smiled widely, seeing the cold intent in Hoffman's eyes, "the coffee in this place has really gone down hill since Martha left, wouldn't you agree, Detective? It's almost undrinkable."

Mark nodded in agreement and lifted the cup towards the plant, taking pleasure in Alice's face as he poured it into the soil with a slow, calculated tilt of his hand. She turned away quickly and stormed off.

"Yeah." He agreed, "I would."