“Can you tell me where you were at four o’clock yesterday afternoon?” the officer questioned, his tone deceivingly light.
The tip of his finger was already tapping the spine of his little notepad; Yandere knew that he wanted a prompt and confident answer. He didn’t have one to give. Last night, after murdering McKenzie for what had to be the thirtieth time, he’d been tired, wet with blood—he hadn’t bothered to think up an alibi before heading home and falling face first into bed. Now it was coming back to—
“He was with me,” Bim stated calmly, catching their attention and distracting Yandere from his thought. “I picked Tristan up from school and then took him to the theater! We were there the rest of the evening; he was helping me rehearse for my next gig.”
“Really?” the officer huffed, raising a clearly skeptical eyebrow. Bim didn’t miss a beat, offering him his signature smile and going on to explain the script they rehearsed and the restaurant they visited after they left the theater for the night. It was only when he offered to describe the meals they had ordered that the officer finally relented, ordering them not to leave town in case he came back with any more questions.
As soon as the door closed behind him, Bim spun on his heel, his disapproval clear within a second’s glance.
“You don’t have to say it,” Yandere mumbled, clutching at the folds of his skirt.
“You were reckless! Yan, I can’t afford to keep covering for you like this; I’m running out of stories!”
“Yeah, but…” After a moment or two, Yandere glanced down at his knees. When he looked up again, he was smiling hopefully. “That was your best performance yet…You really are the best actor I’ve ever seen, Bim.”
Shaking his head, the showman pinched the bridge of his nose between thumb and forefinger. “I know, I know. I’d hope you’d learn a thing or two so you can do this for yourself.”