Bearclaw Valley it's whatever you say it is

Good cop and bad cop have hit bedrock. He had almost expected Ico to snap under the weight, but he had also understood that Ico was a storyteller if nothing else, and storytellers did anything to find the next scoop. The newest experience. Someone had told him long ago that the first person to a murder scene was the murderer himself. The second person was invariably some sort of storyteller.
Flashing cameras really did belong in a ring around a car crash. The filthy and wet insides of a cathouse.
Leaning forwards, more and more, he's suddenly aware that he barely knows Ico at all. The thought of breaking into somebody's head, fracking and drilling into the skull, it's more exciting than it ought to be.