Post by AU Julian Mercury on Mar 16, 2021 20:58:05 GMT -6
Everywhere he went, he knew they were talking about him. The precinct used to be a safe haven for him. Somewhere he could spend all day and night if needed. Hours had been spent in his office, napping on that armchair that allowed him to sink into the material and forget about the world for minutes which sometimes turned to hours. When he would step out to greet the rest of the department, the aroma of coffee would almost always be present. Whether it be the early hours of the morning or midday, a friendly face greeted him.
Now? He wanted nothing to do with this godforsaken place.
He dipped his spoon into the honey jar which had become something of a mainstay in the kitchen since he and Tahlia's rising through the ranks. They never had coffee without it. After allowing the golden liquid to absorb into the dark brown, he stirred it, discarded the spoon into the sink and hurried back to the only four walls he could bear to be in for more than a few minutes.
He thought he could hear whispers.
"What's up with Merc?"
"Didn't you hear? His..." it trailed off as he got further away.
He shut the door behind him and walked to his desk. The monitor in front of him was switched off, which allowed him to see a dim reflection of himself. He was thankful it was not a real mirror; the sight it had in store for him was probably not a flattering one.
Before he could even take a sip of his coffee, Sergeant Kent walked in without knocking.
"The Captain wants to see you."
"What's been going on with you?" Eve said, watching as he deliberately laid out a thin layer of shaving cream across his face.
"What do you mean?" he replied, not letting his gaze shift to her reflection in the mirror.
"You're always weird, but that goes double lately. This job really got you that down? If I knew you were gonna be this dull, I would have found something better back in New York."
"It's not the job."
"Ah, there it is." she said, a smile now forming on her face.
"Hm?"
"So there is something bothering you."
He shrugged.
"When isn't there? No-one is ever one hundred percent happy. There's always something that can be improved."
"But that's not what this is."
"Possibly." he said, keeping his answer short as he began to slide the razor across his face, removing the scruff that had built up over the last few days. She rolled her eyes.
"You done your scouting?"
"For Clearwater? Partially. I'm not all that concerned by him."
"And why's that?"
"He's an old, arrogant fool who only knows riches and lust. I'd imagine he's never had a day of struggle in his life."
"And he's kinda lost every match in BPW."
"Up until a few weeks ago, the same thing could've been argued against me."
"True. So, you're not worried then?"
"I never stop worrying. That's the only thing that's kept me alive. I can't risk losing now."
"Why? If that Ransack guy keeps winning, you can't win the block anyway, and I thought you didn't care about the money?"
"I don't."
"Then why?"
"It's about leaving an impression."
Now? He wanted nothing to do with this godforsaken place.
He dipped his spoon into the honey jar which had become something of a mainstay in the kitchen since he and Tahlia's rising through the ranks. They never had coffee without it. After allowing the golden liquid to absorb into the dark brown, he stirred it, discarded the spoon into the sink and hurried back to the only four walls he could bear to be in for more than a few minutes.
He thought he could hear whispers.
"What's up with Merc?"
"Didn't you hear? His..." it trailed off as he got further away.
He shut the door behind him and walked to his desk. The monitor in front of him was switched off, which allowed him to see a dim reflection of himself. He was thankful it was not a real mirror; the sight it had in store for him was probably not a flattering one.
Before he could even take a sip of his coffee, Sergeant Kent walked in without knocking.
"The Captain wants to see you."
"What's been going on with you?" Eve said, watching as he deliberately laid out a thin layer of shaving cream across his face.
"What do you mean?" he replied, not letting his gaze shift to her reflection in the mirror.
"You're always weird, but that goes double lately. This job really got you that down? If I knew you were gonna be this dull, I would have found something better back in New York."
"It's not the job."
"Ah, there it is." she said, a smile now forming on her face.
"Hm?"
"So there is something bothering you."
He shrugged.
"When isn't there? No-one is ever one hundred percent happy. There's always something that can be improved."
"But that's not what this is."
"Possibly." he said, keeping his answer short as he began to slide the razor across his face, removing the scruff that had built up over the last few days. She rolled her eyes.
"You done your scouting?"
"For Clearwater? Partially. I'm not all that concerned by him."
"And why's that?"
"He's an old, arrogant fool who only knows riches and lust. I'd imagine he's never had a day of struggle in his life."
"And he's kinda lost every match in BPW."
"Up until a few weeks ago, the same thing could've been argued against me."
"True. So, you're not worried then?"
"I never stop worrying. That's the only thing that's kept me alive. I can't risk losing now."
"Why? If that Ransack guy keeps winning, you can't win the block anyway, and I thought you didn't care about the money?"
"I don't."
"Then why?"
"It's about leaving an impression."