A couple of weeks pass with Karl, Bad and George swiftly analysing the list of suspects.
Quackity doesn't have time to help, because he's going back to Mexico to help with a case they don't have information about.
Karl uses all of his energy on checking suspects day and night. George even caught him with red eyes and a slouch the next morning, sitting in the exact position he did when George left the night before.
He's been burning himself out, and George is afraid he doesn't realise it.
He refused to move from his chair, even when a body had got reported.
George went alone, and Karl was sat back at the office, so destined that his meals for a few days was the sandwiches at lunch that he'd complained about before, and coffee. Lots of coffee.
And when it was time to discover the body, it was the same as last time. Not any graphic pile of limbs, blood streaming down onto the floor, but more a composed kill.
And that made George curious, questioning if those piles were really Dream's work. How could he forget to wear gloves and leave a fingerprint after one year of no evidence?
The notes became even more confusing for George. Since he went alone last time, he's decided to keep the newly found notes.
The last note said, in scrambled, italic letters, Fraud.
Simple but affective. Like actions, actions are simple but affective. Just like with Karl, who looks like a skeleton by now.
He's been thinking about that note for a while now.
George is in his office, reefing through a bunch of paperwork he has to do. He sighs as he fills out the first page.
Another thing he has to do, is plan Bad's birthday party. He's turning 24, and even though he's said that he won't mind if he doesn't get anything special, George has made it his mission to make it the bestest of the best birthday party.
Wilbur has also told George that he's back in a few days. The two of them have been texting back and forth, and Wilbur has promised to help plan Bad's birthday party.
It's in 8 days, so it's no rush, really.
George decides to wait until Wilbur's back to plan the party.
He runs a hand through his hair when he sees how thick the stack of paper is, but he avoids his problems by heading to lunch. He loves avoiding his problems.
Karl's sitting by his computer, close to the cafeteria. George doesn't expect him to actually head to lunch anymore, so he heads to him instead.
He puts his chin on Karl's head and hugs his figure from behind, "how's it going?" he asks, almost too politely and soft. He feels as if Karl is especially fragile right now — solely because of his fight to keep his eyes open.
"Good," he says with a small smile, "i'm down to about 200 people," he cheers. It surprises George how he still manages to have any kind of energy.
"I think I want to take a break for once," Karl says with a cheeky but weak smile creeping upon his face.
George gasps at his friends sentence, "no way! You're coming back from the dead!" He cheers, receiving an eye roll from the other.
"Let's go for a stroll outside, i need fresh air," he smiles.
George isn't really in the mood for a small walk around town, but he does it for his ghost-looking friend.
They make their way into different small shops, and Karl even buys someting. A sensual looking dark purple shirt with the fabric of an angel.
George's fingers trace across the surfaces they surpass, feeling the different textures. They enter a bookstore because Karl has told him that he's seen this one book he really wants to read.
George has no interest in books whatsoever, so he makes his way over to the ones with colourful covers. He soon starts to lose interest in them when Karl buys his book and they leave the store.
Even in target, Karl ends up buying a new toothbrush, claiming that his old one looks like Hagrid's hair from Harry Potter.
George laughs at that as they head back to the office. The time ticks 5, and Karl takes a secret nap on the sofa for a few hours.
The next day, Karl looks way more energized. His eyes aren't bloodshot, and he looks like he's gotten some other fuel than the lunch ladies sandwiches.
"George," Karl says with a hint of excitement, "53 people left!" he woo-hoo's.
George raises both arms in the air and cheers like when people cheer at football games. "You did it!" George motivates, shaking Karl's shoulders.
"We're gonna be in the newspapers for months," Karl giggles, "I can just imagine it, the power duo discovers the real identity of Dream!"
George sneers, "that sounds unprofessional, stupid," he sticks his tongue out in a playful manner.
"We need to tell the others! I'll text Hannah," Karl says, ignoring George's act of sassiness. George scoffs in annoyance because of that. He gets what he wants.
When Karl pulls out his phone, George heads out of the building. He decides to go and visit the cafe with rose wallpaper, not only to get food, but to check on how they're doing.
Tina was a nice person. Her smile was so polite, and she never failed to serve George with the best service.
And he regrets not leaving before Karl asked for her name.
When walking down to the cafe, he realises he isn't hungry.
So when he sits down, the same place as every other time, he only orders a chocolate milkshake.
"Hey, what'd you-" she stops, "George?"
George smiles at the girl, recognising her from the night it happened. Her hair is dirty blonde, healthy locks resting a little below her shoulders. She wears the same outfit as Tina did besides the shirt.
"I recognise you," George reassures, "are you doing okay?" He asks. He doesn't normally check up on people like this, but he feels as if he's entitled to right now.
"Better," she murmurs, sighing. "I'm Sylvee, by the way," she creates a weak smile.
George nods amused at her name, "what'd you like?" she questions, looking down at her note and then up at George again.
"Just a chocolate milkshake, thank you," he smiles. Sylvee writes it down in her notebook.
"I'll be sure to be extra quick," she laughs, leaving with a more genuine smile on her face. It relieves George in some kind of way.
A couple of minutes later, he's looking out the window, analysing the cars that're passing by. They go at a rapid pace, but he still manages to spot a few cars that makes him raise a brow before they're gone.
Then he gets a text.
Hey, George :) Would you like to come over tn & eat sushi with me and Sapnap?
George smiles widely, maybe a bit too widely. He almost forgot about that. He writes a reply quickly, glancing over the smiley-face twice before shaking off his intrusive thoughts.
I'd love to. I'll come over at 7?
"A chocolate milkshake for you, sir," Sylvee sarcastically says formally, noticing the bright smile that's been plastered on George's face.
She raises a brow,"anyone special?" She giggles, glancing at George's phone before he pulls away.
"No!" George firmly says, but with a hint of playfulness in his tone. "It's two people," he reassures.
Sylvee raises a brow that almost reaches her hairline, but before she can say anything, George notices and stops her, "no. We're just eating sushi together. Their names are Clay and Sapnap."
She claps as she walks away, not even bothering to answer. George slurps on his milkshake.
The rose wallpaper seems more boring today. George doesn't even bother look at it, rather, he finishes his milkshake quickly and pays.
When he scans his fingerprint, he heads to Karl instead of his office at first. That has become a routine by now, just because George is curious how many people Karl has narrowed it down to.
George approaches him, "how's it going?" He asks. Karl almost jumps out of his chair from the jump-scare.
"Oh my god," a cheeky smile forms, "you almost gave me a heart attack," he says, holding a hand on his chest.
"It's going well. 41 people left!" He smiles, "if my calculations are correct, i'll be done tomorrow at around 4."
"That's amazing," George celebrates, "i'll tell Bad," he smiles.
"Bad is throwing knives," Karl says with wide eyes, "down the training hall. Don't blame me if you lose a finger."
George rolls his eyes and walks away, heading to the training room. He's never seen Bad throw knives, but he keeps surprising George every day.
He enters the room, immediately spotting Bad to his left. The room is big, no surprise there, and there's multiple targets located at where Bad is standing.
"Hey, George," Bad smiles. He spins his knife and throws it.
It lands in the middle.
"Hi," George gets surprisingly nervous by Bad's successful throw. His accuracy is perfect.
He hestitantly approaches Bad, glancing over the few knives that lay behind him, ready to get thrown with full force.
He looks at Bad throw another knife. Then another one.
Bad catches him staring, because he asks, "do you want to learn?" He says with a genuine grin building up in his face. He grabs another knife and hands it to George. He hesitatingly takes it, noticing how clean it actually is.
He stands in the spot where Bad was standing and aligns himself, acting like he knows what he's doing.
He cringes at himself when Bad adjusts his position.
"Okay, so you need to throw with a sufficient amount of force to make the knife rotate enough times to get the perfect accuracy. Stand here," he points, "and hold the knife like this," he says, showing an example with his own knife.
George follows his instructions without any lack of intent.
He sticks his tongue out subconsciously when he closes one of his eyes to aim for the right spot.
He throws, and it thankfully lands on the target. It's far to the right, but at least it's something.
"That was so good! You're a natural superstar," Bad laughs, taking a notice of George's flustered face. George hates being bad at things.
"Try again," Bad encourages, handing George another knife, he takes it with hesitance.
George takes note of what Bad told him, so he aligns himself and fiddles with his fingers before he figures that the grip on his knife is acceptable.
Then he throws.
It lands the same place as before, even knocking down the knife he just threw.
"I told you," Bad says, approaching him, "superstar," he winks, a wide grin appearing on his face.
"I'm a grown man, I can accept defeat. You don't have to praise me," George defends, knowing that it's a bad throw.
"I'm being serious, George, you're above average," he smiles.
George rolls his eyes at that. He can't accept compliments.
"Again?" George then suddenly asks. Bad's face lightens, seeing the hint of courage behind George's eyes.
"Again."
Bad throws more knives, giving George more examples for him to copy.
Bad lands right in the middle, as for George, it takes him over 20 tries to land close to the middle.
Practice makes perfect.
George yawns two hours later when he realises work ends soon, and he has to get ready to meet with Clay and Sapnap.
He gets home, having an hour to get ready. Since Clay mentioned they were eating at his place, he figured that fancy wasn't the exact definition.
He wears grey sweats with a purple shirt, and he makes sure to remember the silver necklace. He looks at himself in his dirty mirror, a defeated looking face creeping upon him.
He really isn't one for creating outfits.
He ties his shoe laces and leaves. On his way, he looks at the autumn leaves that scatter around the whole city. He loves autumn.
The fresh air hits his now red cheeks, a breeze flowing down his spine when he adjusts his dark brown jacket.
Then he brushes it off for mud when he arrives at Clay and Sapnap's doorstep.
He knocks. The wooden door opens with a swift moment.
George stands there, confused for a second.
Why is Clay alone?