(2019-01-25) The Inquisition
A federal agent pays Dr. Khan a little visit.

It's cold as shit outside. Thus, most reasonable people are staying indoors this evening. The lights are on in the little house Olivia pulls up to, so someone's clearly home. Someone with dogs, judging by the furious barking that begins when the crunch of tires on gravel is heard. The house is older, and sits on a moderately sized acreage hemmed in by trees. A little shed of some kind sits off to one side, and a small chicken coop has been built onto the west wall. Its occupants are likely huddled somewhere warmer, on a night like this.

Thank goodness Olivia has never been reasonable. Informed of the strange man's hideout by Franklin, she moves quickly from car to door before pounding upon it. "F.B.I.!" she yells out; if only there were closer neighbors to hear that. "Open up…it's fucking cold out here!"

It's a minute before the door is answered. Scuffling claws and not one, but two dogs vociferously alerting their owner that someone they don't know, and might want to eat is at the door. Eventually it swings open; one animal is banished with a sharp whistle, and when the other, bigger mutt doesn't back down, it's redirected with a hand hooked into its collar. Both of them eye Olivia warily, then slink away. Leaving a tee shirt and pants clad Sevin in the doorway, expression inscrutable. "Well, good evening. Uh. Come in." Does he really have a choice? He steps aside to let Olivia through.

Of course he has a choice. Let her in or be arrested. "Thank you for being so cooperative" Olivia notes with chattering teeth and a forced smile. Stepping inside, she pulls off her gloves to stuff in the pockets of her ski jacket. And then her beanie goes the same way, leaving her hair a mess she can't really be bothered attending to. Her identification appears. "Special Agent Lopez. I wanted to drop by and thank you for showing up at the compound. And also to ask, 'Who the hell are you?'"

Sevin doesn't really seem like the troublemaking sort, does he? He lets her in, shoves the door shut with his shoulder and throws the deadbolt. And even asks mildly, "Would you care for tea?" There's a healthy looking fire going in the hearth, and a teetering stack of paperwork on the kitchen table. He's wearing a pair of glasses, which are presently slipped off and tossed atop mount math homework. "And I think we gave introductions when we met briefly in town. Sevin Khan." Suh-veen.

"You know that's not what I mean" Olivia replies with a little sigh, pocketing her ID. "College professors don't go for day trips out in the wilderness to get involved in cult raids. Should I ask, what do you do? Would that make it easier to understand?" Her jacket is peeled off and hung on any hook she can find before answering, a little softer. "Tea would be nice, thank you."

There's a hook by the door with a jacket that doesn't look like his hung on it. It's gestured to, before the older man eases into the kitchen to hunt down cups and put water on to boil. "No, I suppose it does leave a few questions to be answered," he admits. "Perhaps I'm just a concerned citizen."

"And your country appreciates your concern" Olivia deadpans…okay, it sounds more mocking than deadpan. "It also appreciates the truth." She follows him into the kitchen and gets her crossed arms glare into effect. Her pistol stuffed in the back of her jeans. "You shot at people, Mr. Khan. Any reason you shouldn't be in jail for attempted murder? Murder? You weren't officially there after all."

Sevin's back is to Olivia while he works, and so his expression is not immediately obvious. Soft hiss of the kettle that turns to a low whistle as the water heats up. No sign of the arsenal he must keep somewhere on his property, to have turned up in gear like he was sporting a week or so ago. He is, by all appearances, a fairly ordinary - if foreign-looking - gentleman who teaches up at the University. "I'm not sure if that's for me to answer," he murmurs, turning one of the cups slightly so that the handle points to the right. He's still facing away from the FBI agent.

"Not for you to answer?" Olivia tilts her head at that response, lips pursed in thought for a moment. "Tell me who can answer then? If you say that it's a voice in your head…" She deals with those kind of people all the time in her work - don't be one of those people. "Mr. Khan…or Professor Khan if you prefer. People of middle eastern appearance are, like those of Latin appearance, are not very popular around here at the moment. A man of middle-eastern appearance, heavily armed, trained to shoot, and willing to. Let's just say it would be better answering me now than the alternative."

Sevin half-turns and shoots the woman a look askance at the 'voice in your head' comment. It's probably not a voice in his head. Though who knows, he could be a closet crazy person. "Sevin is fine, too," he replies in a low voice, and withdraws a tin of tea from the cupboard. A heaping spoonful is doled out into a mesh filter, and the hot water poured over it to steep. "And I'm quite aware, Ms. Lopez, of what prejudice is." She's probably experienced some, her own self. "I'm afraid I don't have any answers you'd find satisfactory."

"You want to at least try?" Olivia replies, not looking very happy about that response. "I'm serious…Sevin. I'm getting a lot of heat over the whole thing. Sure, we stopped the bad guys, but the bad guys had friends in high places. They will be very interested in you. They'll want to know all about you. So, you give me something, and I'll keep you out of it. Trust me, I'm the good cop in this situation."

Sevin is quiet for a long while after that. Hands spread on the countertop, shoulders a little slouched while he contemplates the tea brewing in front of him. Finally, with a sigh, he turns around to face the woman slowly. "This is as out of my hands as it's out of yours," he offers carefully, making eye contact for perhaps the first time since she's stepped into his home. "I do believe you're trying to help me. And I appreciate it."

"And you're not trying to help me very well" Olivia replies, more than happy to stare straight back into his eyes. "If this is how you want to play it…" A shrug. He seems a stubborn man so she doubts persuasion is going to work. It looks like this will have to go where it goes. "I will at least thank you for showing up. You were a great help and that is appreciated. This…avoidance…not so much. For all I know, you're the leader of another sect of the cult who saw an opportunity to destroy the opposition. Try and see it from my side."

"I can, actually." See it from her side. His hands slide into the pockets of his pants as he leans against the counter and waits for the tea to steep. Pale eyes fixed on Olivia, and seeming to be making some sort of assessment of her while she speaks. "And you're welcome." He doesn't seem to be being trite. "I could tell you that I'm not, and that you'd be better off stepping away and leaving this alone. But I don't think you'll take me at my word for it."

"No…not when they come with threats, Professor Khan" Olivia replies, though at least she doesn't go for her pistol. "I think I've gone off the idea of tea. Thank you anyway. I'll see myself out, but we will definitely see each other again. Good night." She heads for her jacket and the front door, though her eyes are on Sevin more often than not.

Sevin doesn't move right away from his lean against the kitchen counter. His half-slouched frame seems relaxed, though the laziness could be a lie. He could have a concealed weapon on him, for all she knows. "I wasn't aware I'd threatened you," he offers as she makes her way to the door. But doesn't try to stop her. "Will you do me a favour, before we speak again?" He pushes off the counter and ambles out of the kitchen, and toward the entryway where she's pulling on her coat.

"I've received lots of advice to step away in my time, Professor Khan. They've all been threats." Olivia pulls her coat on before glancing at the door. "Did you lock the deadbolt?" Her right hand casually going behing her back to rest on her pistol. "And what is the favor?"

He did turn the deadbolt. As a matter of habit, it seems. "I imagine you must be quite accustomed to assuming the worst. In your line of work." His voice is low and even, tinted with that accent that stumbles over certain consonants; at once melodic and jagged on the ears. His eyes flick to the pistol, then back to Olivia's face, and he reaches for a pad of paper and a pen on the table, and scrawls something down on it. The sheet is torn off, folded in half, and held out between index and middle finger. "Call this number."

Olivia looks at the offered paper before slowly taking it from his hand. "Okay, I'll do that." Then a nod to the door. "If you could let me out, please. Assuming the worst has kept me alive. And the worst that people can be is pretty bad. Goodnight, Professor."

At that, he actually smiles slightly. A pause before he steps past her to unlock the door and ease it open, letting in a blast of chill air. "We're similar then, in that respect. It's kept me alive, too." The brief warmth in his eyes is long gone by the time he speaks again, "Good night, Ms. Lopez."

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