It’s hard to look at his reflection in the two-way mirror - and he knows that it must be two-way, because a mirror in an interrogation room is so rarely ever just a mirror. Have I lost weight? Were my eyes always so sunken in like that? Landis touches his face, feeling over the stubble on his cheeks like a blind man trying to read Braille.
Oh shit, I have some idea of who it might be omg
gee. wonder who’s gonna check out the lake. what a mystery