002 ( text; )

[electroburst]

so, does everybody get dumbshit jobs assigned to them, or do these people just got something against me? i got about ten million things i've been good at doing since the dawn of forever and i can promise you they got nothing to do with birds.

resume available upon request.



[ and a couple minutes later, a Professional addition: ]

man, i'm bored. anyone wanna hook up?

Comments

[killtime]

[ To be fair, it isn't as if she's one of those squeaky clean cops either. His instincts about her weren't wrong — but the circumstances called for her to play by rules she wouldn't care for, normally, and half the blame lies with her fucking sentimental heart. So there's a lesson about getting attached around here. If a person's not careful, they'll end up with a shitty beat in a station where hardly anyone gives a damn and half the cops are eating out of some crime lord's grubby hand. It's a long way from freelancing. Worse hours. Stiff uniform. But hey, at least they get dental.

She bends the rules to make it bearable. Plays rough on the street when she needs to. And if she told Reno that, he probably wouldn't be surprised at all. ]

No. [ Her answer is both wry and blunt. ] But I bet you clean up nice.

[ Absently, she wipes a hint of ash from the tip of her finger onto the bar counter. ]

Think about it. My partner and I could use a capable third.

[electroburst]

[ he would've said the joke's on her: he doesn't clean up, even in uniform. at least it'd be a fun sort of sport, seeing how completely trashy he can manage to pull off wearing the pd uniform here without getting written up. he remembers the early, early days in his career, before he became one the suits he liked to mess with so much. he remembers taking shit from the commanding officer at the time for popping his collar and leaving half the buttons undone. that might be fun.

but then she goes and says the dirty, nasty word we don't say here in this place. the p-word. the beer he ordered shows up in a glass in front of him just in time for him to turn and stare into it, then leaves that long-distance stare where it is even after he picks it up and drinks out of it. he shouldn't be letting on that anything bothers him, and he knows it even as it's happening, but he's never been great about managing his impulses. one long sip, one long cigarette drag, and then he picks himself up and puts himself back in the saddle. ]

I work better alone, but I'll take you up on the threesome anytime.

[ the hell he does, but he's not about to explain the complicated and painful way in which he does work better, actually. nothing to be done about it. he's all on his lonesome here. ]

[killtime]

[ Truth be told, she doesn't really clean up either. Mostly because she doesn't give a fuck anymore, not at her age — but also because she was born on the wild steppe into a nomadic tribe whose women had no issue riding into battle with their tits out, and you can take a bitch out of Ancient Scythia, but you can't take the Ancient Scythian out of the bitch. If she looks presentable at the station, it's almost entirely because her partner is the dutiful sort, and the man is helpfully inclined to iron her uniform for her alongside his own.

It wouldn't matter in the Falls either way. Place is a shithole. Corruption is rampant. Nobody cares if she's got her collar straight — they're too busy doing evidence locker coke and taking back alley bribes. ]

You haven't even met him. [ She glances at Reno with a glint of something like amusement in her eye, apparently entertained at the idea for reasons she isn't volunteering to elaborate on. ] What if he's not your type?