Investigation Log – V. Grant, Day 2

I spoke with Marco Schmidt at the mulled wine stand. A peculiar man. There is pride in him, perhaps sharpened by something deeper, something that makes him watchful of how he is seen.

He offered little of value at first, only repeating names I already carry on my list. Yet, without much prompting, he drifted into a long reflection on poisons. An unusual interest for a man in his position.

I asked whether he shares such knowledge with others. He claimed he could not remember.

I do not believe him.There is something in the way he carries himself, a certain tension just beneath the surface, as though he is constantly measuring how he is perceived. One might call it pride, though it feels sharpened by something else... perhaps insecurity, perhaps the burden of always having to prove one’s place. Does that make a man more careful, or more reckless? I have yet to decide. 

People rarely forget the subjects they linger on.

It leaves me with an uncomfortable thought. Should I be more cautious about what I drink? Perhaps even bring my own bottle from now on. A small precaution, but not an unreasonable one. It leaves me with an uneasy thought. Perhaps I have been too careless. A drink here, a cup there, taken without question. Miss Hoffmann’s workshop suddenly seems like a practical next stop. A man would be wise to carry his own bottle in a place like this.