tampered | Closed; In Progress

Current Mood: determined

Closed; In Progress

When; November 2nd (Waxing Crescent)
Rating; Potentially PG-13 for the boys' foul mouths
Characters;

badhairlifetime,

orangetoughguy, and

shifts. Later on

specifics.
Summary; After a certain amount of ruckus, the police force is given orders to take in the suspects. Questioning ensues.
Log;
At the very least, it should be followed by investigation, the gathering of evidence, finding clues, suspicion, apprehending the suspects, intense questioning, which sometimes lead to confession, which always then, in turn, led to punishment.

And after the stint in the ammunition shop, leaving three dead, it wasn't all too hard to piece together who the suspects should be. That was one good thing about the network's tendency towards spontaneous recording. Her boss back home had always gone on about the chase. She was good at the chase, it was in her blood. But what he never realized was that you could go on the chase without actually running.

Sometimes you could go on the chase with words. She sighed and opened the door where the two suspects were waiting in the open waiting room.

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[Freddy never thought he'd find himself on the other end of the law. Eames this is your fault. Why'd you have to get shot in the leg? Seriously.]

[ Eames is too busy chavving the fuck out. His shoulders are sore from the cuffs, hands crossed at the small of his back with his hips thrust out on the edge of the seat to attempt to make the entire affair more comfortable on his arms. (It doesn't.) He supposes he brought some of this on himself, considering he had been less than compliant about being brought in for questioning - and thus, Eames sits here now in the waiting room with Mister Orange, in his pj pants and slippers, nipples cold because it was cold out and not much better in here.

Boo. This is a ridiculous amount of justice for a dream. ]

Did you bring your cigarettes?

[So it's his turn right? Can he smoke while getting interrogated? He wants to. He also wants a beer but maybe that's asking too much. For the moment he's just sizing her up, trying to catch on to any behavioral tells. How experienced is she? Does walk talk and act squared away? Sometimes Orange thinks he's just an asshole for being a cop judging other cops...but hey that's what you do when you're from different agencies, different departments. Oh yeah and it's what you do when nobody else knows you're also a cop.]

Me? Yeah I did. [A look at Eames.] You need a jacket or somethin'?

[Freddy's got a hoodie on...too bad it wouldn't fit Eames.]

Both.

[ And because Eames is a gentleman: ]

Please.

[Wow he said please. That's different. Freddy plucks a cigarette out from his pack and makes to tap it into Eames' mouth since he ain't got no hands.]

Don't throw it out here when you're done with it.

[DNA evidence, that, even though Orange is already pretty certain if the cops have done their homework they've already got the bullet from the Englishman's thigh.]

I know.

[ Said around the cigarette once his teeth catch the filter, bobbing up and down with his words. ] Mind lighting it? My hands are somewhat preoccupied.

[Flick of his lighter.]

They catch you after a shower or somethin'?

[ Eames inhales sharply with a hum of thanks before sitting back, or well, slouching or something, configuring his limbs to make it work as he puffs away. ]

Turning down for the evening. You?

Just mindin' my own business.

[The most he wants to say on their turf. Orange doesn't doubt someone tipped them off he'd been going to a certain shoe location for frivolous chores in one angel's service.]

Funny, same for me. That's the thing about the police, though- never quite there when you're in need of them, interrupting your personal life in the mean time.

[ Yeah, Eames is a sour puss. ]

You've actually needed the cops?

[It's a joke. Come on don't be so sour pussy.]

Oh he can smoke. By all means, please do, it will only make it easier to look for slip-ups. It's really quite interesting how normal, everyday habits can be read point-by-point for nerves and guilt, among other things, despite being a relaxant under normal circumstances. The drink she will say no to, she can't interrogate anyone under that sort of influence, and who knows how much of a lightweight he is?

She doesn't know that he's a copper, for sure, but she is used to other people trying to read her, and she's perfected her poker face. It's only all the better for currently having a face without a muzzle in the way. She crosses the room in a deliberate path after closing the door, and sits down at the desk, across from him, smiling.

It's the oldest trick in the book, smile, pretend you're his best friend. You're the good cop. But unlike most coppers she's also the bad cop wrapped up all in one at the wrong step. That's why her smile stops at her mouth.

"Sergeant Angua. Doing alright?"

Once or twice.

[ He only shakes his head, puffing smoke out of his nose like a dragon. ]

I shoulda never picked your ass up when I saw you running into the street, man.

[Freddy shakes his head. Eames ain't dumb, it should be obvious it's trying to rehearse a script with the guy, if he's willing to comply.]

[ Eames rolls with it quickly. He doesn't know what they have on himself, but he's not about to bring Orange into his mess. ]

It's what you get for being a good Samaritan, I suppose. I never got the proper chance to thank you for staying in the hospital with me. One usually doesn't deserve it after nearly giving their savior a concussion.

Freddy has to decide what's more important, masking his involvement or protecting his cover. In the end he's far more concerned with loose ends in his homeworld than he is with justice served here. Does it make him a bad cop? Maybe, maybe not, but he won't have to hear another badge's judgment call on it if they never know. So he sucks on that cigarette like it's second nature.

"I was until you guys pulled me off the fuckin' street. You tryin' to make me look like a criminal? Shit, I oughta pin you guys for intimidation," he waves his cigarette at her.

[Say what? Come on now they can still roll with Eames being caught in the crossfire. He never said the guy came running out of the store, just running out into the street. Bullets fly through doors and windows too. He'll say he never saw a weapon on him either. Freddy considers surveillance issues but as far as he knows there ain't one.]

You don't gotta thank me for shit, man. Shootin' off like it's New Year's Eve ain't right anywhere. Hell someone could've lost an eye.

I suppose I could consider myself one of the lucky ones.

[ He sinks in his seat, fingers curling around the handcuffs. ] Right ridiculous, this is.

You are, you're alive, and you didn't do anything any other guy wouldn't have.

[His brow furrows because he detects a slight hint of defeat in Eames' demeanor.]

He was talkative. That was good. The silent ones were always more difficult. Then he would see intimidation. Her smile remained.

"I apologize for the inconvenience, however we think you could probably help us with some things. You're not still shaken up, are you?" From being apprehended or from the shooting, you pick. She's still all smile and concern.

Freddy just keeps puffing away like the cigarette's doing its job. He's casual enough to be compliant unlike that other guy out there.

"Like what," Orange asks, one brow quirked upward.

He's looking at her eye to eye but without a hardened gaze, at least nothing that would suggest anything beyond annoyance for being apprehended at all.

"I don't know if you heard about what happened in the gun shop?"

It's a prompt. A very leading prompt for him to say something, anything out of place. If it hadn't made such a commotion, she could probably get away with jumping on the inevitable 'I didn't kill anybody,' despite her not mentioning the word kill or dead. Even if it hadn't been so public, his friends had probably talked about it.

"Which gun shop?"

He might come off as cocky by delivering that kind of question to her question but it's how the game's played. And Freddy can't help but put on a little attitude when he's deep in the role of Mr. Orange. It's his role's swagger. He knows if she's sharp as a tack she won't buy his ignorance.

He does come off as cocky. But it's alright, she can handle cocky, and now she knows that he knows exactly what's going on in this room.

"The one that had the dead bodies in it."

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Closed; In Progress

pre-questioning bros

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in the lion's den - Angua and Orange

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