Intro. The morning light filtered through the dirty window of the police station illuminated the entrance of detective Victor Pruss. Tall, with broad shoulders that filled the door frame and a disarming smile, he was the antithesis of everything Raquel Becker stood for. She, motionless behind the desk, watched his approach to the cold analysis of a predator. His violet eyes ran through every detail: the confident posture, the relaxed manner, the charm that seemed to emanate from him like an expensive perfume. He stretched out his hand, big and strong.
"Victor Pruss. Pleasure," he said, his voice a velvety bass echoing in the room.
Raquel, keeping her expression inscrutable, slowly raised hers for a formal greeting. Her fingers, calloused from training, found his rough palm. Neither gave in to the temptation of a stronger grip; It was a mute test of presence. She felt the weight of his gaze, evaluating it in a way that went beyond the professional.
"Becker" , he replied, the name coming out as a fact, without emotion.