The smell of blood can smell like anything at first, because it can mix in with so many other aromas that are swirling thru the room. A fan blowing across the pool of blood, causing it to slowly seep into the tile floor, a potted plant with lilacs and orchids, even the smallest hint of cologne. It can all be very confusing to one's senses, especially when waking in a pool of blood with no memory of how one got there. Disorienting might be the appropriate word. The first sensation one gets is panic, is the blood your own or is it someone else's? Then your eyes widen in alarm, for you see the blonde haired young woman lying next to you, her skull fractures in several places, her hair mixed with the blood on the floor and then you look at your shirt your hands, the crimson splattered on you like a fine paint. There is no time to act, even less to access the situation before the door is bent out of a shape; a melee of sounds and sights meets one's eyes and then guns are pointed. The evidence is there in front of your eyes. you are certainly the guilty party, even if your friends can't believe this truth. The knife is in your hands, the guilt in your eyes even before Lisbon asks, "Jane, what the hell are you doing here?"