"He's not cracking, Captain," Fitz heard Detective Palmer say, leaving the interview room. "Kid's a fucking sociopath."

"We've got enough to go to trial," he heard Captain say. "Fitz, can you get him back to holding?"

Fitz opened the door to see the smug kid sitting in his county orange, looking a little worse for wear.

"Afternoon Officer," Steven Albright said, sitting up as Fitz came in. "Word on the street is that you tried to go vigilante. Went on that fuckin fag app to find this alleged killer."

"There's nothing alleged about my friend laying dead in a pool of his own blood."

"How'd it feel to talk to those fuckin' faggots? Throwing themselves at you, doing anything they could for a good dickin'?"

"I don't know, Steven, how did it feel?"

"I'm not a faggot."

"Neither am I," Fitz said, leaning down to get eye level with him. "Cuz fags aren't real men, right? Real men don't hide. Real men own everything they are and don't give a flying fuck what society or their friends or their family think about that. Real men don't regret anything. Aren't scared of anything."

Steven stiffened and averted his gaze. Fitz met it once more. "You can't claim gay scare on this pal. You went to his house, the forensics show that you weren't sexually passive, that your DNA was found inside Tristan. This wasn't a mistake, you weren't raped, you went there to have sex with my friend and then you killed him. Why? Did you enjoy it too much? Were you afraid that it might actually make you gay?"

"No!" Steven screamed, leaping out of his seat. "That's the point! If I killed him, then it didn't happen. It wouldn't be true. I wouldn't be... " Steven stopped, realizing what he just said. "I want my lawyer."

"No need," Fitz said, cuffing him. "You're going back to holding."

Captain and Detective Palmer stood with their mouths agape on the other side of the one-way mirror.

"Did you get that?" Fitz asked as he passed them taking Steven to holding.
"Yeah," Captain said. "We got it."

###