Welcome to Gaia! ::

One dark eyebrow raised at the overly professional and heavily accented question but Nick said nothing directly about it, choosing instead to straighten his posture, roll his shoulders back until they cracked, and offer a nod to the other man. A faintly welcoming smile tugged at the corners of his mouth, though. Jonesy hadn’t been kidding when he made the cracks earlier about Rocky and Bullwinkle; his new partner was indeed pretty much Illya Kuryakin.

This, he decided instantly, was going to be awesome.

Of course, first they had to deal with the matter at hand and Nick was good at his job despite his distractable, scattered tendencies. He motioned the other man closer. “Welcome to the fun house, man,” he said lowly. “You got here just in time for the get-go. The scene is pretty clean, thank God. We got the call less than an hour ago.”

“Coin of phrase.” If he was thrown by Sergei’s bent towards literalism, Nick did not pause to think on it. Instead he simply started towards the blocked alley and counted on the other man to trail him. He gave the guard standing at the barrier a vague hand wave. Then he ducked into the opening, past the yellow tape and saw horses. Less than six feet in, he came to a stop and let loose a low whistle. “And it’s about as much fun as a kick to the head.”

He looked over his shoulder at Sergei. “You’re not a masochist,are you?” he asked.

The question appeared rhetorical, however, and he moved on to the next point of focus, lifting a hand to rub at the back of his head as his golden eyes took in details. “So the witness is already in the back of that ambulance out there, probably wearing the blanket of shock and horror, and it’s usually best to let them settle for a few minutes anyway so we’ll get to him in a bit. First things first then.” He motioned towards a crouching woman wearing the traditional crime scene protective gear. “As soon as Mendoza is done with the camera-work, we’ll go in and get a better look. In the meantime, though…” Nick met Sergei’s eyes straight-on. “Tell me what you see.”

Nick nodded, suitably impressed already by the matter of fact way Sergei was absorbing and relaying information. "Something big enough to keep them boxed in here, I'm thinking." He took a few steps towards the nearest wall and stopped short of brushing his fingers over it. Then he stretched out both arms to show how narrow the entrance really was; there remained only a foot, give or take, beyond his full armspan.

He cast a sideways glance at the other man. "Because this is pretty narrow and cozy to blow off as just happened to be here." He dropped his arms abruptly and strode towards the far wall and the bodies and the blast mark. While he was careful to stay out of the way of the techs and photographer, it was clear Nick was itching to get in for a closer look. He contented himself with squinting and sniffing the air. "Garbage," he muttered, "but kind of camp-fire-y, too. Sulfur? Smoke?"

He reached up to scratch the back of his head, staring at the crumbling brick. "But concussive, too."

Nick looked over his shoulder and his expression walked the fine line between "are you kidding me, you precious child?" and bemusement. Then he shook his head. Reaching up, he tapped the side of his nose. "You'd smell gas if that's what it was, man," he murmured. "Though God knows, this city seems to have the weakest gas lines in the world, huh? I can't blame you for thinking that. I mean, those things seem to be going up left and right around here."

The dry tone in his voice indicated that he had a gut deep feeling that a gas explosion was only a convenient excuse ninety percent of the time. He left it unsaid, though, and shrugged before turning back to the scene. With a grace that one would not have expected from a man so stocky, Nick sank into a crouch, hands resting lightly on his outflung knees. "It's definitely murder. Don't know what kind but it's messy."

He lifted a hand and pointed to the various bits of trash scattered around the alley. "If it were gas, we wouldn't have much in the way of paper around here, would we? And what about burn marks on the bodies? Not there."

"Convenient isn't always the best answer and it's not really always the right one." Nick lifted a hand from his knee to scratch idly along his jawline, expression wrinkled in thought even as he threw off the somewhat trite quip in response to Sergei's first comment. Suddenly, he seemed to realize that his new partner had hung back from the bodies and he twisted in place to look at him. He lifted an eyebrow, quizzical. Then he motioned for Sergei to move closer and join him.

"Maybe more than one but I can't tell. The coroner might be able to figure it out. Multiple assailants? Multiple weapons?" He twisted his mouth to one side, thinking. "We'll look for bullet holes around, of course, but I don't know. No one reported gun shots. Then again, no one reports too much in this town. 'S weird."

"No witnesses other than the survivor. No cameras this way. Of course." Nick huffed a breath born of frustration and it degenerated into something akin to a growl. Then he shook his head. Turning to regard his newly assigned partner with slightly narrowed golden eyes, he fell quiet for a moment, thinking. Sergei seemed to be a smart enough guy but he was guarded as hell and, on top of that, seemed reluctant to offer an actual opinion.

That was not going to work if they were going to be working together.

"So..." Nick's drawl would have alerted Sergei to something if the other man had known him better. "Care to share what's going on in that head of yours?"