Fragments

[Sören]

The cold might not kill her, but the blood loss would. He was only thinking of comfort in those last glacial moments, but apparently the cop wasn't ready to give up hope. Sören abandoned his efforts without fuss; worsening the situation had not been his intention. Instead he rested his forearms on his knees, one hand cradling his fist, still resting in a crouch on the balls of his feet. He assumed the man had a ready offense. Given time Sören might be able to design protection, but he was unwilling to dispense the effort, choosing instead to trust to the sanctity of the law. Without a reason, he didn't think the cop would attack. Sören didn't mean to provide him one.

"I felt the moment you came close. And I could have stopped you then. I didn't."
It wasn't intended as either a boast or threat, just a statement of fact that he presumed would now be understood. The man watched him with the wariness of a viper in the grass, barely taking a blink from his eyes. The power rippled like electricity between them, pure menace in the air. Even simply holding it was like cradling the sun, but he would not release it until the other man did, or he was forced.

As sirens pricked the edge of his hearing, Sören considered his options. He could leave; the cop had his hands full with the dying woman, but it would be a gamble as to whether or not he could divide his attention enough to stop him. He did not fear the law. He had no weapon. And his Wallet showed he'd reported the incident seconds before interruption. But an interrogation as to his presence at the scene would be tedious, and he'd rather not waste such precious time while the ring slipped away from his grasp. Of the two options, though, it was the one with which he'd have to take his chances. By the time flashes brightened the end of their dark alley, he had not moved.