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blindingtrustClasses had begun again. In Gotham things beginning a new had a chance of turning grizzly. She took that in stride.
Then she discovered she was nearly ready for the bar exam. She nearly split her face in two with how happy she was. She and her adviser were both happy. She was his first impaired student in over a decade. So they had gone to talk with one of the oldest professors in the department. He had been the one to encourage her to come here.
Professor Moriarty was an ironically good man. Well liked by all. His death was a shock to both of them. It wasn't because of his age. They had discovered him hung from a railing in his office that went across the ceiling.
Today she had gone to his funeral. It had been because everyone was going. She did care it was just a shock for her. People who had goals and dreams didn't just kill themselves, getting old wasn't the end of the world.
She was saying her good byes after the service and was going to leave but someone caught her hand.
"Ms Weaver, right?"
Ivy nodded formally. "Yes. May I help you?"
"I'm Eliza Moriarty, Professor Moriarty's granddaughter," the woman introduces herself.
"My condolences Ms Moriarty," Ivy says in a kind tone. "Your grandfather was a very kind man."
Eliza seems to agree with Ivy. Ivy finds herself waiting for the other woman to speak. She wouldn't dare demand someone just get it over with, not even under different circumstances.
"I think my grandfather was murdered," Eliza says finally.
Ivy chokes on her response. She doesn't want to insult the other woman. "And what the hell am I supposed to do? I'm blind! I'm not a detective either, Miss."
"But you know people," Eliza points out desperately. This makes Ivy a little annoyed.
"You haven't gone to the police?" She can feel her anger boiling up.
"I did," the other woman says softly. Ivy groans mentally.
"I'll see what I can do." She pulls out her cell phone. "Your number please."
Ivy gets the number and makes a hasty retreat from the grave yard. This was so annoying.
Then she discovered she was nearly ready for the bar exam. She nearly split her face in two with how happy she was. She and her adviser were both happy. She was his first impaired student in over a decade. So they had gone to talk with one of the oldest professors in the department. He had been the one to encourage her to come here.
Professor Moriarty was an ironically good man. Well liked by all. His death was a shock to both of them. It wasn't because of his age. They had discovered him hung from a railing in his office that went across the ceiling.
Today she had gone to his funeral. It had been because everyone was going. She did care it was just a shock for her. People who had goals and dreams didn't just kill themselves, getting old wasn't the end of the world.
She was saying her good byes after the service and was going to leave but someone caught her hand.
"Ms Weaver, right?"
Ivy nodded formally. "Yes. May I help you?"
"I'm Eliza Moriarty, Professor Moriarty's granddaughter," the woman introduces herself.
"My condolences Ms Moriarty," Ivy says in a kind tone. "Your grandfather was a very kind man."
Eliza seems to agree with Ivy. Ivy finds herself waiting for the other woman to speak. She wouldn't dare demand someone just get it over with, not even under different circumstances.
"I think my grandfather was murdered," Eliza says finally.
Ivy chokes on her response. She doesn't want to insult the other woman. "And what the hell am I supposed to do? I'm blind! I'm not a detective either, Miss."
"But you know people," Eliza points out desperately. This makes Ivy a little annoyed.
"You haven't gone to the police?" She can feel her anger boiling up.
"I did," the other woman says softly. Ivy groans mentally.
"I'll see what I can do." She pulls out her cell phone. "Your number please."
Ivy gets the number and makes a hasty retreat from the grave yard. This was so annoying.
