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“I’m not trying to be rude, but do we really need to keep Derick’s belongings right here?” Kirill asked, craning his neck around the boxes on his desk to make eye contact with his partner. Doug looked back only long enough to roll his eyes.
“Until the investigation is over, his personal effects must remain where they are in case they’re needed.” The sergeant’s tone allowed no compromise.
“That’s what evidence lockers are for! Me sitting here has already compromised the scene! One of these boxes shakes and makes a weird sound every half hour!” Kirill listed off at random, hoping that at least one complaint would land. Doug didn’t even deign to reply. Kirill sighed dramatically, slumping down in his chair and scooting it into the middle of the office. None of his coworkers paid him any attention. “Plus there’s a drip in the ceiling right above my chair, the floor shakes whenever someone walk by, and the carpet’s kinda sticky.”
“I can tell that your mouth is moving but all I hear is a constant whine of, ‘The office is too cold,’ or, ‘The bathroom smells bad,’ or, ‘The coffee here sucks.’ What do you think you’re going to gain from stating the obvious? If you want a smiley face sticker on your report card, go back to the academy,” Deana scoffed, brushing one ponytail over her shoulder. When Kirill made a face at the back of her head, she reached out to flick his forehead without even looking.
“Cheer up Kirill, this place isn’t that bad. At my old precinct, our break room was a broom closet! We had to use oil lamps and carbon paper at the end of every month until Helios turned the power back on,” Kay added.
“Don’t assume your experiences are universal,” Yuri warned.
“That just sounds like bad management,” Maxine said.
“Come on guys, don’t we work for the military? Can’t they shell out some extra funding to fix this place up? At least enough so I don’t have to sit at a dead guy’s desk,” Kirill grumbled. Yuri paused in her typing long enough to let out one humorless laugh.
“‘Dead guy’s desk,’ huh? Do you have any idea how high the turnover rate is in the Seven-O?” Deana asked.
“There’s probably been, like, five dead guys in this seat before me. Maybe one actually died in it,” Maxine said wistfully, running one finger along one of her shelving units as if checking for dust.
“This desk has been death-free for the last eight years and I’m not letting any street-level goon take that from me,” Deana boasted, turning to face Kirill.
“Really, eight years?! How old are you?” Kirill wondered aloud.
“I don’t think it’s very polite to ask a woman her a–” Kay started, but cut herself off when Deana held up a hand.
“An inspector who can’t even give an age estimate is hardly an inspector at all,” Deana said mockingly.
“Th-there’s no need to give an estimate if I can get an answer directly from you!” Kirill snapped.
Leaning back in her chair, Deana eyed Kirill for a long moment before shrugging–deeming his answer good enough–and turning back to her mirror.
Kirill waited around for an awkward few seconds before it became clear Deana wasn't going to tell him how old she was. He scooted back to his desk and was almost settled in before a large hand came down on his shoulder.
“We appreciate initiative here, Okappa! The go-getters are the ones who make their way up the ranks. If there’s a leak that’s bothering you, why don’t I show you the way to the rooftop access?” Travis offered. It took Kirill a long moment of weighing his options before he grabbed his designated drip-catching bucket and gestured to Travis to lead the way.
"If only he'd put that energy toward his actual job," Doug sighed to no one in particular.
Not able to hold in her curiosity, Kay whispered, “Why is everyone picking on him? If this is some kind of initiation, shouldn’t I be getting hazed too?” to Deana the moment the two men left the room.
“Special request from his old boss. Yours must have liked you well enough,” Deana answered, punctuated with a wink.