No one likes you, Leonardo.
‘Too erratic,’ they say.
‘Too energetic and unusual,’ a voice exclaimed.
[ !YOU ARE THE DEVIL’S ARTIST! ]
A sigh. ‘Ignore them, Leonardo,’ he continued to resist the FBI and forgot all about the glasses man, making sure their sweaty palms stayed away from his sketchbook. Those pages chronicled his life; home to the earliest blueprints of Lady with an Ermine, protector of the young man’s knowledge. If the authorities ever found out about his drawings, they would ask questions—a lot of questions.
— I hate questions.
“Viewing my own work,” brows rose as he gazed up at his painting, pleased with the fact that he managed to become a renowned painter at such a young age. “—Is that a crime?” The artist flipped through his sketchbook, finding the drawing of the crime scene and glasses man—side by side.
[ a m a d m a n by right ]
“You were as still as a rock while you stood beside the corpse,” Leonardo mumbled, not caring if a few FBI agents overheard. “It was fascinating, really!” He closed the sketchbook before the elder can see it, and yawned. “I haven’t done any harm to the crime scene: I haven’t contaminated the evidence, nor climbed over the yellow caution tape. I stayed quiet— like a proper witness.”
Leonardo Da Vinci
One of the y o u n g e s t renowned painters {in the world}
The FBI that had tried to escort the painter out of the room suddenly stop as they turn to look at each other, and then the painting that hung on the walls. As if coming out of a stupur, they apologize and back away.
The painter flips through his sketchbook and Will catches a glimpse of the corpse that lay on the ground and what could only be him standing beside it. His stomach gave a lurch when he saw the sketch – not entirely sure if he should be flattered or not that the younger man had drawn him while his imaginations brought the killing to life in his mind, tainting it.
He keeps quiet about the drawing though and averts his eyes as the painter closes the sketchbook quickly, hiding it from view. His lips purse into a thin line as the painter talks, hoping that the younger man would not stop to ask any questions.
He can catch insane men
Because he can t h i n k like them
Because he is INSANE
“Would you – by any chance – have witnessed the crime itself?” He asks, though already knowing the answer. If he had seen the ripper, the ripper would have seen him. And the ripper was too careful to be seen by anyone.
Always worth a shot, though.