"I refuse Noah. I just... I refuse to work with him!"

...

"So the case is...?" Blaine asked Puckerman as they hastily stepped up the stairs.

"Trent Burton. Found by his mother. Take five minutes, and see what you can work out." Noah sighed, phone pressed to his ear as he ran downstairs.

...

The body lay sprawled out onto the floor, the slightest droplets of what looked like dried blood speckling his shirt, despite the absence of a wound for it to drip from. Kurt stepped back- although not from the disgust at seeing a dead body lying on the floor for the first time in his life- letting Blaine do his thing.

"Skin and eyes are both jaundiced and face slightly gaunt... Possibly on something? Or liver problem. Photos on the wall from when he was a kid, jaundice present in them. Liver problem. Lying as if he's fell backwards, head tilted back. Fall was sudden as he's not near anything which he could've grabbed onto if he was feeling dizzy beforehand. Clothes are relatively cheap. T-shirt stained with dried red substance, but no evident wounds in surrounding area or on body." Blaine paused for the first time in his rant to scope his surroundings, finding a set of keys. "House key. House key. Car key, belonging to an expensive car. Obviously not his, nor his mothers, based on his clothes and the house. There's something else... there must be something else."

And he found it. The tiny little white pill lying near Trent's nose. So small that only someone with the most observant of minds would notice it. A layer of its dust sat beneath it, the tablet gazing up at him. Taunting him.

He couldn't quite work out what it could be. Of course, it couldn't have been what killed Trent. But that didn't mean Trent hadn't ingested another of the same pill. He took a shaky breath in, taking a closer look at the tablet. Definitely not some sort of over-the-counter drug, nor an illegal substance. Antibiotic? No. It wasn't like any pill he'd seen before. Some sort of medication to treat liver problems? Nope. It didn't look like that kind of manufactured drug, churned out in mass production. It looked almost specifically made...

"His mother's still in the building, correct?" Blaine raised his eyebrow, receiving a nod from one of the nearby investigators. "Lead me to her?... and contain this piece of evidence, and bring it so I can ask Ms Burton about it?"

...

"This pill look familiar to you?" Blaine raised his eyebrow, glaring at Ms Burton for a moment. "I'm aware that your son was suffering from a liver problem, yes?"

Her breath hitched with a sob, her vocal chords contracting as she hesitated to speak, her mouth alternating from being open to being closed.

"He was dying." She sighed outwards in one breath. "Wilson's disease. Body can't process copper properly or something... my mind's kind of fuzzy at the moment so I can't really think... His liver wasn't functioning properly. The pill's not of familiarity no..."

"Was his death related to his illness maybe?" Kurt spoke for the first time, though regretting getting involved slightly.

"The doctors said just a few days ago... He wouldn't die for a while. He had... months. Months..." her eyes widened, fixated on the wall in front of her. "I can't... I just... I can't."

...

"It's related..." Blaine sighed inwardly to himself in the back of the taxi, resulting in a confused look from Kurt. "Do you not notice something strange about this death, and Sam's dad's death?"

"No... should I have?" Kurt looked slightly taken aback.

"Both were terminally ill."

"What about the blood or whatever? I mean there was no wound..."

"I have my theories." He laughed in an almost sarcastic manner.

"Which are...?"

"Well... He could've had a nosebleed, grabbed a tissue and stopped it from dripping- apart from the first initial spurt of blood. The blood was dry. Had been on the shirt for hours. Of course, the exact time of the death isn't specified so we can't tell if the blood's anything to with it. If this has been murder- which I'm convinced it is, because I'm convinced the two cases are connected and Sam's dad was most definitely murdered- it could be the killer's blood perhaps? But why are we so convinced it's blood?"

"What else would it be?"

"Red paint." Blaine smiled gently, his lips upturning into a smirk. "You can tell by the way it'd dried. There were paintings on the wall in the house. Clearly had been painted by Trent. His family isn't particularly wealthy and the paint and canvas were dirt cheap... Not particularly a proper artist's materials don't you think? Not to mention he'd signed his name at the bottom."

"Clever." A dry chuckle erupted from Kurt's throat.

"No... just observant."

...

Blaine sat in the living room of 156 McKinley street, staring down at the coffee table as he tuned the guitar sitting on top of his lap.

"Bored. Bored. Bored." He repeated in monotone.

"Instead of complaining, why not do something?" Kurt laughed. "Go bowling or something? Go get coffee?"

"Bowling? What's the mental challenge in chucking a spherical ball at peculiar looking objects? Anyway, coffee sounds nice. Caffeine only fuels the process of my thoughts."

...

"So you're trying to tell me you can figure out loads of things just by looking at one thing..." Kurt shook his head in amazement as the two of them sat in the middle of Lima Bean- the local coffee shop- sipping on cups of coffee, "But you can't even name one musical, nor can you tell me who the president is at this current moment in time?"

"It's just trivial information." Blaine sighed, tapping the side of his left temple. "Takes up space."

"But it's the president. The man who runs the country we live in."

"Like I said. Trivial information that I don't require to know."

"But even kids as young as three could tell you who Obama is?"

"Obama's a...musical right?"

"Yes Blaine. President Obama is a musical." Kurt rolled his eyes, taking a sip of his coffee.

"It's information that I don't need to know."

"But it's the president... Anyway... If we're going to be flatmates for a while, we'd better get to know each other."

"But I already know you."

"You only met me a couple of hours ago!"

"That's ample time. Heck, three minutes would've been enough."

"You don't know me Blaine."

"Of course I do. Do you want me to prove it to you?"

"Fine. Prove to me that you can tell my entire life story just from my shoes or something."

"Gladly. You wanted to be on Broadway but obviously that dream didn't work out. Your mum died when you were younger. You've never quite got over it and you don't like talking about it much, judging by your facial expression just now."

"Don't-..." Kurt stopped, breathing slowly.

"And you like guys. That's obvious."

"H-how can you know all of that?"

"You're obviously quite passionate about musicals by the way you speak of them. You've got cut outs of signed playbills in your wallet, so you're definitely invested in musical theatre, and I heard you singing under your breath earlier. With a voice like that? Of course you'd want to be on stage! As for your mother... You've also got a picture of her in your wallet, and it's from when you must have been about... three? She's not present in the other photos of you and your dad which are recent, so I'm assuming she's passed away?"

"Yes." Kurt sighed gently. "And me liking guys?"

"Honestly! I'm probably the most observant person you've ever met, and you're doubting my awesome gay-dar?"

"So you know me... But I don't know you. Tell me a bit about yourself! A handsome man like you! Who's the lucky girl that gets to be your girlfriend then?"

"Girlfriends aren't really my thing."

"Boyfriend?"

"Nope."

"Any friend at all?"

"Nope."

"Surely that's lonely."

"The world's full of people Kurt. I'm never lonely. Never."