Text a picture and inquire further about Mayor Parsons [https://img.comicfury.com/comics/210/43704a1614225988b3654f909810768.jpg]

"What do you mean?," you ask. "She seemed like she had it together pretty well when I met her."

"Oh, did Kate not tell you?" Heather smiles. "I thought that's why you asked! I get little feelings about people."

"Wait, like--" It takes you a second to put the sentence together. "...You're some kind of empath?"

Only a small percent of mutants, who are a small percent of the overall population, have what's currently referred to as psigenes. It's a bit of a misnomer, because no one knows if psychic abilities ARE actually tied to any particular gene--in fact, nobody knows ass from fuck about psychic powers, period. The sum of all research you're aware of has amounted to a giant question mark, aside from the fact that the percent of mutations resulting in psychic powers is increasing over time.

You were sort of kind of confident that wacky hair colors were in themselves a sign of psychic mutation (compared to other mutations, like... extra limbs or something), but the only psychic you've ever known was a kid that could make hands tingle.

"Not exactly," Heather replies, taking another sip of her tea. "When I was younger, it was just... positive or negative. Some people I could barely tell, and others were impossible not to notice. As I got older I got to where I could tell some small differences--aggression and melancholy, optimism, excitement. Kate says I get vibes," she chuckles. "I still have to touch someone first, but I can read them for a good ten minutes after that... Mayor Parsons made it clear that she'd read my files, so I didn't feel bad shaking her hand."

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She takes another drink of tea, as do you.

"So what was Rill Parsons' vibe?," you ask.

"Different," she says, and fortunately continues before you gather the nerve to ask different how? "On the surface she was like... dead. If I closed my eyes and didn't pay much attention, she could have just been part of the room."

"...And you don't think she's a vampire?"

Heather gives a small laugh, almost a giggle. "There was something under it--under the... the deadness. I've never seen someone hide it like that before, not from me. Underneath it was... well, it was complicated, and I'm bad at reading complicated."

"But if you had to guess...?"

She gives a tiny shrug. "Somewhere between... maybe grieving and terrified? And exhausted. She can't be that old but she felt... God, she felt so tired. I don't think she's a very happy person under there."

"...And you're sure she's not a vampire?"

"Well," Heather begins, "she survived my garlic tea just fine."

Oh.

Huh.

"One sec." You start to take out your notepad and flip back to the upstairs page, but Ms. Halford begins to rise.

"I think I'm headed to bed anyway," she says with a smile. "You can sleep on the couch if you don't want to mess with that cold trailer--I don't know how Kate does it. Just make sure to lock the door if you leave!"

You nod at her. "Th... thanks. Ms. Halford."

She turns off the TV and heads down the hall.

You take a (bad) picture of the notebook page in question and text it to Kate.

You sit back.

You drink your tea.

You ponder deeply on what the shit is actually going on.