Archive of Our Own

MARCH 51' - 1:07am

PROBLEM MATTRESS SPRING - Oh! Oh hello again Harry's left hip! It's me, your best friend! The spring in the mattress that sticks out a good half-inch more than the others! Did you miss me?

YOU - No...

LOGIC - You could roll over, y'know.

ENDURANCE [easy: success] - You're fine, we can handle this.

PROBLEM MATTRESS SPRING - Huh? But I thought we were buddies! We've spent SO many nights together, we're basically MORE than buddies! And better off me than that mean old Commodore Red stain, am I right?

ELECTROCHEMISTRY - Actually, if you did roll over you'd only need to crane your head a little to give that stain a good sucking.

VOLITION - Absolutely not. We've been doing too well to give up now. A whopping THREE DAYS out of Martinaise and you're still T-Total... Besides, we could have Elysium's best lazareth *bedside* and I would not recommend sucking this mattress.

YOU - I'd get nothing from that stain anyway, how old even is it?

ELECTROCHEMISTRY - Older than the cum and piss stains, Harry-boy, that's for sure!

MARCH 51' - 9:17am

JEAN VICQUEMARE - "You look like steamed shit." His mouth is drawn into a thin line as he drops the beige card-wrap of a case file onto your desk.

YOU - "Thanks partner. Great turn of phrase." Your voice comes out flatter than you mean it to.

ENDURANCE - Your head is pounding from C-Wing's fluorescent overheads. Barely any sleep last night between the mattress spring and all the ARGUING about said mattress spring...

COMPOSURE - And then the state of your bed in general... Then your room and flat beyond...

PAIN THRESHOLD - Then the state of your life.

JEAN VICQUEMARE - He splays a large hand over the top of the file and slides it across your desk directly into your chest. As he does this he draws into your face, eyes narrowed and scowl only increasing.

VISUAL CALCULUS [medium: success] - An excuse to get close enough to smell your breath.

ESPRIT DE CORPS - By day two you'd sussed the aim of this particular little trick. Despite the shit-slinging, your brother-in-arms has his own bizarre ways of preserving your pride.

YOU - Why not just ask me?

EMPATHY [medium: success] - He'd either disbelief your answer or hate it.

JEAN VICQUEMARE: "Just make sense of this." He removes his hand and pulls away, seemingly satisfied with his scent check. "Up to my eyeballs doing *PROPER* police work, I don't have time to parse chicken-scratch." Then he's off towards his own desk.

YOU - You make a non-committal noise in response. Not like you have a choice considering your confinement to desk duty.

ESPRIT DE CORPS - You deserve a damn-sight worse for all you've put your precinct through. Your task force. Your family.

YOU - "I have no family save for the working class."

JEAN VICQUEMARE - "What?" His head snaps back to you.

RHETORIC - Oh! We can spin this into a great piece on why you can SHARE the burden of 'proper police work' with Jean!

ESPRIT DE CORPS - Look, bored or not, you are more or less suspended. That won't cut it.

HALF LIGHT [trivial: success] - He'd chew the fat from your middle for even suggesting it. Best not.

ENDURANCE - Not to mention the gammy leg.

PAIN THRESHOLD - The leg is indeed... *gammy*.

JEAN VICQUEMARE - "God-damn-it, shitkid! I could care less about your *communard ideals*, Just do your fucking job."

YOU - Without turning to face him you raise a two finger salute to the side of your head and flick it backwards.

JEAN VICQUEMARE - "And cut it with the fucking suicide gestures!" He lowers his voice, but not enough to be inaudible, "abnormal prick..."

YOU - "But! I wasn't-"

JEAN  VICQUEMARE - "-Whatever." He snarls and slinks past you towards the little canteen and its promise of burnt coffee. "Up to my fucking numbskull on Mullen cleanup duty..." His grumbles trail off as he slips from sight.

MARCH 51' - 5:42pm

PEREDITION PEREGRIN'S PERCH - On the left side of the street, about two blocks before the businesses become sleazy and *fun*. Peredition PereGRIN's Perch bulges out onto the pavement. You were first drawn to the shop due to it's odd name and the eclectic mix of wooden birdcages, rocking horses, and other general tat threatening to spill into the road.

INLAND EMPIRE [medium: success] - This antique shop has been here longer than you and only three of the old, wooden cages that inspired it's name have been sold in that time.

ENCYCLOPEDIA - There are no peregrine falcons in Revachol, but their airspeed makes them legendary amongst children in the city, non-the-less.

RHETORIC - "Peregrin" is spelt incorrectly. Between the alliteration and emphasis on  "GRIN" in it's signage you can imagine the original owner was pretty impressed with themselves for the name.

SHIVERS [hard: success] - He was.

YOU - Wait, what's so impressive about those birds?

ENCYCLOPEDIA [easy: success] - The peregrine falcon is easily one of the fastest animals on Elysium, and the fastest by far when it comes it airspeed. The control they exert at high speed means they're able to catch and kill prey without hitting the ground.

YOU - Cool! Does Kim know about the airspeed of a peregrine falcon?

ESPRIT DE CORPS [impossible: failure] -  You would have to ask him yourself.

YOU - Ah...

[-1 MORALE]

LOGIC - Asking the Lieutenant literally anything would be considerably easier *if* you'd thought to grab his contact details *before* parting ways in Martinaise.

YOU - Yes. I am aware. Thanks again.

DRAMA [easy: success] - He was not lying when he said he'd see you again, Sire.

ENDURANCE [medium: failure] - But... With his brain unscrambled from concussion, the second thoughts probably kicked in.

PAIN THRESHHOLD [hard: failure] - The novelty of *Harry Du Bois* has worn off entirely.

[-1 MORALE]

ESPRIT DE CORPS [easy: failure] - Or any a manner of holdups from his own precinct. The 57th are unlikely to release their finest without a fight, after all.

EMPATHY [easy: success] - Have faith in the Lieutenant. He wouldn't abandon you after everything the two of you went through.

PAIN THRESHOLD - At least not yet. They always abandon you in the end, Harry-boy.

YOU - You enter Peredition Peregrin's Perch, huffing. If there's one thing guaranteed to clear your mind and improve your mood: it's riffling through old tat.

MARCH 51' - 11:26pm

PROBLEM MATTRESS SPRING - Ah, you're back! Good day? Get lots of GREAT Detective work done? Owaa~! Of course you did! You're the best, Harry's Left Hip!

ESPRIT DE CORPS - Today you rewrote Junior-Officer Tillbrook's notes so they were actually legible. Eighteen pages worth. This included many trips around C-Wing and beyond, on your bad leg, to double check certain words.

PHYSICAL INSTRUMENT - No pain no gain! Ya feel that ache Harry-boy? It means you're back in business!

ENDURANCE [hard: failure] - What it means is we won't be sleeping on the spring tonight.

PROBLEM MATTRESS SPRING - H-Huh?

PAIN THRESHOLD - The pain wasn't so bad as you walked home, you even felt okay bumbling around the antique store, but now that your muscles have stilled the ache is creeping into your very bones.

LOGIC [hard: failure] - Honestly, if Vic's going to delegate paperwork to us he could at least have it delivered to our flat. We could take a proper sabbatical.

EMPATHY [trivial: success]  - He'd worry about you rotting in this flat.

RHETORIC - Stewing in your own pathetic juices, until you decide to marinate in red wine instead.

ELECTROCHEMISTRY - Oh, he's right to be worried Harry-boy. Doesn't that sound fun? Stew... Marinate... It'd even help with the pain.

VOLITION - No. No drinking, no drugs... As *appetising* as that sounds.

PHYSICAL INSTRUMENT - Oh yeah. We're hungry by the way.

YOU - Sorry but I'm just barely comfortable, I'm not getting out of bed now.

ENDURANCE - Then at least get off the stupid spring.

PROBLEM MATTRESS SPRING - HUH?!

YOU -

YOU - Wallowing sounds pretty good right about now.

ESPRIT DE CORPS [challenging: success] - Rewriting casefiles is beneficial to those who have to decipher them later, and it's not just to keep you busy. Satellite-Officer Vicquemare has delegated this job to you as it allows you to cross reference the RCM handbook with codes you don't understand in the Junior-Officers' notes.

YOU - So I'm being retaught my job through paperwork...

EMPATHY [easy: success] - His love is harsh, but the way Jean handles your pride like it's a fledgling sparrow shows that at least *some* part of him still cares for your wellbeing.

YOU - I'd feel more loved if I wasn't in so much pain...

ENDURANCE - ROLL YOUR FAT ASS OVER THEN!

ESPRIT DE CORPS - You now know the locations of every block within the 41st. You know where the comms room, shooting range, gym, Infirmary, evidence lockers, interview rooms, cells, stables, and MC pool are from having to locate various officers. You also know where the stacks are and how to operate them... As well as how horridly organised their filing systems are. It might not be your favourite type of work, but it's what you need most right now.

ENDURANCE - ACTUALLY! What you need most right now is- Ugh. Y'know what? Fine. Have it your way.

[-1 HEALTH]

APRIL 51' - 2:13pm

JEAN VICQUEMARE - "The hell are you wearing?" He raises an eyebrow as he drops the casefile on your desk. This has been the second day in a row that he's forgone his sniff test.

EMPATHY [medium: success] - You never once smelt of stale ale or old wine. He was becoming embarrassed of his behaviour.

YOU - It's been a full ten days since you last saw Martinaise. That means two weeks sober.

ESPRIT DE CORPS - Eight days since you slunk back into C-Wing with your tail between your legs. A week since Judit gently reminded you of your favourite sandwich shop on a particularly painful day.

YOU - And ten days since I last saw Kim...

ESPRIT DE CORPS - It's also been a whopping fifty-three minutes since Chester stuck gum on the back of your blazer.

HAND/EYE COORDINATION - You did what you were able to in the precinct bathrooms, removing the offending gum in the sink and hanging your - now wet - blazer over the back of your chair.

PERCEPTION - The only issue is, this now leaves you in your tight blue jeans and... a sheer top?

ELECTROCHEMISTRY - Oh baby, this thing is beyond sheer. Think wet tissue paper. Think the thinnest cloud you've ever seen and wrap it 'round this hunk of man meat.

PHYSICAL INSTRUMENT - Think the *underground's* wet dream. You look like a disgrace right now. MAYBE, if you were in shape. And surrounded by hot chicks with GIANT BREA-

EMPATHY [trivial: success] - Jean is becoming more agitated the longer you ignore him.

YOU -

YOU - "Laundry day." You click your tongue against the side of your mouth and wink for emphasis.

JEAN VICQUEMARE - "Laundry day..." His tone is less disbelieving and more exasperated. "God forbid anyone in your building mistakenly take your load, Harry."

ELECTROCHEMISTRY - OooOOEUR, Vic said 'take your load'! Make a joke!

INTERFFACING [trivial: success] - He means load like your *clothes* in the *washing machine*.

REACTION SPEED [trival: success] - ALREADY ON IT.

RHETORIC [easy: failure] - Oh yeah, got a good one locked and loaded.

YOU - "Everyone in my building has already taken my load, Vic." Another wink and click for good measure.

JEAN VICQUEMARE - "Really?" His tone complements an expression so deadpan he could give Lieutenant Kitsuragi a run for his money. "That includes the men, pets and children then?"

YOU - "Uh..."

RHETORIC - Oopsie-daisy!

ESPRIT DE CORPS - "OOPSIE-DAISY"?!

YOU - "Not the kids, obviously."

JEAN VICQUEMARE - "Pets get a free pass, though?"

CHESTER McCLAINE - "And the men?!" At some point in the last minute Chester had pulled himself over the screen dividing his and Mack Torson's desks from yours and Vicquemare's, to join in with the heckling.

MACK TORSON - "Dressed like that? No question." Mack wasn't visible behind the screen, but Chester's grin was wide enough for them both.

C-WING - At that moment, you're saved from further *hyper-masculine* bullying by the door to the comms room opening and Jules poking his head out into the wing.

LOGIC - Hyper-masculine bullying you brought upon yourself by making the terrible sex joke. Just so you know. For future reference.

JULES PIDIEU - "Inter-Departmental call for Detective Du Bois?" He can't see you from where you're sat so angles his question at Jean.

JEAN VICQUEMARE - "Who the fuck's calling the shitkid?" Alarm slips evidently onto his face at the phrase inter-departmental.

ESPRIT DE CORPS [Medium: failure] - Nothing good has ever come from an inter-departmental call. This is it: your redundancy.

CHESTER McCLAINE - "Probably his boyfriend!"

MACK TORSON - He snorts "More like his boyfriend's dog."

JEAN VICQUEMARE - "Thought I told you clowns to keep the *banter* on-par with your fucking solve rate." His head snaps from Jules to Chester. "By my estimates you're a good *two-thousand* unfunny jokes ahead of schedule."

CHESTER McCLAINE - He opens his mouth, then quickly decides whatever unfunny joke he had brewing wasn't worth it.

JULES PIDIEU - "Ah, the Lieutenant from the 57th who liasoned with-"

YOU - You can't help yourself. You shoot out of your desk chair before you know what's happened, leg be damned. "Kim?!"

JULES PIDIEU - Now that you're in his visual range he speaks to you directly. "Lieutenent Kitsuragi on the line for you." With that he slips back in the comms room letting the door fall shut after him.

YOU - The grin spreading across your face is riddled with leftover traces of The Expression, but at that moment you couldn't care less.

COMMUNICATIONS OFFICE - The comms office is a noticeable few degrees warmer than the rest of C-Wing. Between the equipment and sound-proof cladding on the walls, it's the closest the old silk mill ever gets to *cosy*. As you stride besides Jules, the smell of warm dust and whirring fans applauds this little victory. You pick up the receiver before Jules can offer it to you.

YOU - "Hello?!" Your breathlessness is only part due to the speed at which you crossed the precinct floor.

KIM KITSURAGI - In contrast to yourself, the Lieutenant's voice is level and polite as he speaks. "Good afternoon, Detective. I trust that you're well?"

YOU - HE'S HERE!

LOGIC [trivial: success] - He is not "here." He is in the communications office of his own precinct in the GRIH and speaking to you through a radio.

YOU - HE'S HERE AND HE'S ASKING HOW I AM!

[+1 MORALE]

COMPOSURE - Harry, I know ten days is a long time to a man just newly reborn, but please be somewhat normal with the Lieutenant.

PAIN THRESHHOLD [hard: failure] - If you don't, you'll have to wait much longer before Kim wants to talk to you. Maybe never again.

YOU -

YOU [composure: failure] - "KIM!! YOU- I'VE BEEN WANTING TO TALK TO YOU FOR AGES! BUT I FORGOT! I FORGOT TO ASK YOU FOR YOUR GOD-DAMN NUMBER AFTER THE GOD-DAMN CASE BECAUSE OF MY THICK FUCKING PIG SKULL!"

JULES PIDIEU - He visibly flinches as you start yelling down the receiver, pushing the headphones off his ears.

YOU - "YEAH! I... uh.... I'm doing good." You poke one finger through the spiralling transceiver wire and start coiling it nervously like a lock of hair. "I'm being very composed and normal right now."

KIM KITSURAGI - There's a barely contained smile to his voice as he replies. "Of course, Detective. I'd expect nothing less."

INLAND EMPIRE - [Impossible: success] In the GRIH near Terminal H lies a two-story Box that used to belong to a fish canning factory. After that particular breed of fish had been caught, culled and canned to extinction, the company went bust. Other markets tried using the building for a time but complained of a fish smell that never *truly* left.

YOU - That smell is the ghost of poor fishies past. Yet more victims of capitalism. You shake your head sadly.

ESPRIT DE CORPS - After sitting abandoned for two years, the RCM slunk into the old fish factory like a hungry tomcat and officially set up division 57th. Decades later, Lieutenant Kim Kitsuragi and Officer Alice Demettrie flank a communications unit on the middle of an old butcher's bench.

ALICE DEMETTRIE - She sits in her comms chair, hands folded in her lap, and smiles as your booming voice ricochets around the little room.

KIM KITSURAGI - Off-receiver, he chuckles and shakes his head. "I told you." He leans against the butcher's bench, ankles crossed and hand that's not supporting the receiver tucked into the left pocket of his cargo pants.

ALICE DEMETTRIE - "You must have made quite the impression on him, Lieutenant."

COMPOSURE [easy: failure] - Very normal, Harry. Good job.

YOU -

EMPATHY - [success]

YOU - "So, uh, how are you doing? How's the head?"

KIM KITSURAGI - "Hmm? Oh." He pauses. "Fine. I had forgotten about it to be honest, my injuries were trivial compared to your own."

DRAMA [easy: failure] - He is telling the truth, Sire.

EMPATHY [formidable: success] - That's his way of saying he had hoped you'd fill him in on your recovery, as opposed to gushing. He wants to ask how you're healing in greater detail but will not do so in front of Alice and Jules. He can't be too bad if he's at his precinct, he thinks.

YOU -

YOU - "So, um..." Wait, how do I even ask him something like that without coming across as pathetic.

RHETORIC [formidable: failure] - You don't. Have you MET you?

YOU - Good point...

PAIN THRESHOLD [medium: failure] - You don't ask at all. What you don't know can't hurt you. This is why he called, to say goodbye for good.

KIM KITSURAGI - The Lieutenant decides to put you out of your misery after you trail off. "I'm calling as I thought you might like to know that I put in my transfer request today."

DRAMA - BLESSED BE THE INNOCENCE KIM KITSURAGI!

PHYSICAL INSTRUMENT - Your blood stills in your veins.

ESPRIT DE CORPS - The 57th's finest has officially begun the process of becoming flesh and blood amongst the 41st.

CONCEPTUALISATION - No no, if you are the 41st's blood then Kim will become it's beating heart.

EMPATHY - He will become it's shuddering lungs.

[+1 MORALE] [+1 HEALTH]

ELECTROCHEMISTRY - We're more like the 41st's, *liver* by the way.

VOLITION - Not anymore we're not!

KIM KITSURAGI - "Khm." He clears his throat awkwardly at your silence. Maybe calling ahead was presumptuous? He thinks. "Obviously paperwork and such will take a while to process, so I just thought I'd fill you in..."

PERCEPTION [hard: success] - You almost mistake it as tinny static, but there in the background you can just about hear Alice chuckle softly.

ESPRIT DE CORPS [legendary: success] - Alice Demettrie has known the Lieutenant for most of her life. While he's carved a reputation in the 57th for being a killjoy and a hardass - an unrepentant spoiled-sport as he put it - she has recognised where the façade ends. She finds her superior officer's rare embarrassment amusing. He appreciates a colleague around whom he can be sparingly human without inviting malice.

EMPATHY [medium: success] - They will miss each other.

KIM KITSURAGI - "That was all Detective, I shall leave you to it. I'm sure you're busy."

REACTION SPEED [easy: success] - WAIT! Ask him for his number! You won't get the chance again.

PHYSICAL INSTURMENT - Ask him for his-?! My god, why don't you just ask if you can suck him off. Yeah, in front of Oldboy and the *woman*.

EMPATHY [trivial: success] - In case you *somehow* couldn't figure this out alone: don't do - or listen to - any of that.

YOU - "Bwuh..."

KIM KITSURAGI - "Hmm?"

RHETORIC - Well now we have to say *something*, good job.

YOU - "..."

RHETORIC - Oh shit, that's me isn't it? Uh...

YOU -

SUGGESTION - [failure]

YOU - "Bwuh... Huh.."

KIM KITSURAGI - "Is everything alright, Detective?"

JULES PIDIEU - The old man raises an eyebrow at you. Please don't die over my equipment, I've no interest working in snuff, he thinks.

YOU - "YEP! GOOD! NUMBER!"

SUGGESTION [easy: success] - You're just barking words at him. You need to do better than that or he won't understand what you want.

YOU - "NUMBER, PLEASE!"

RHETORIC [easy: failure] - Yeah, fuck it. Good enough. I clocked out hours ago.

EMPATHY - funnily enough...

KIM KITSURAGI - "Ah... You want my telephone number." The way he says it is effortlessly calm, but there is a barely detectable tinge of doubt.

VOLITION [medium: success] - He was there when you called Dora. When you called Sylvie. When you asked Gottlieb to *abuse* you. He doesn't know you're still sober. He is...

EMPATHY [Challenging: failure] - Got nothing, sorry.

KIM KITSURAGI - "Hmm... Detective I *will* give you my home phone number. Do you have a pen and paper handy?"

JULES PIDIEU - The man slides a scrap of paper and biro towards you, without meeting your eyes.

KIM KITSURAGI - "I tend to arrive home between 9pm and 11pm depending on the day's workload. I'm always in bed by 1am. I will give you my number, on the condition that you do not under any circumstances wake me at odd hours of the morning. Do you understand, Detective?"

EMPATHY [impossible: success] - For what it's worth, if you rang him at silly-O-clock he would not be upset with you, provided there was adequate cause.

YOU - "Yup!" You salute, then realising he can't see you, bark; "Aye aye, Lieutenant!"

KIM KITSURAGI - The warmth returns to his voice upon hearing your affirmation, "Good."

COMMUNICATIONS OFFICE - He speaks his number to you and you scribble it onto your scrap of paper. After you read it back to confirm it, you exchange goodbyes - shouting one to Alice also - and slip out of the communications office, a fresh pep in your step and grin on your face.

C-WING - The inner machinations of the silk mill remain unchanged. This seems unreal to you considering the changes in motion.

JEAN VICQUEMARE - "Good news then?" His voice is harsh, but he's genuinely curious what Kitsuragi had to say. "Not pre-emptively scared him off to save yourself the time?"

YOU - "Nope!" You have a singing lilt to your voice that reminds you of Janet Wreathe in that film where she twirls about in the mountains.

ENCYCLOPEDIA [easy: success] - That film is actually about her character escaping the encroaching march of high-fascism.

YOU - Wait, really?

EMPATHY - Please elaborate for Jean. Please.

YOU - "He's called to say he officially requested the transfer!"

PERCEPTION - Jean opens his mouth but the snickering is not coming from him.

CHESTER McCLAINE - "Told ya it was the boyfriend, Torso!"

MACK TORSON - "Competition incoming, Jeanie."

REACTION SPEED - Ooo, throw me back in coach! I can do it this time!

PHYSICAL INSTRUMENT - Huh?

RHETORIC - Yep! Officially clocked in now! Let us play coach!

PHYSICAL INSTRUMENT - What??

LOGIC [trivial: success] - They're not talking to you...

YOU -

YOU - "Nah, just hiring some *decent* staff is all. Though I'll stop by to fuck your dad later, put the kettle on when you get home."

CHESTER McCLAINE - He flaps his mouth, settling on a retort, but as he begins to speak you beat him to it.

YOU - "YEAH! YOUR DOG TOO!"

JEAN VICQUEMARE - He drags his large hand down his weary face. "Let's... Let's *not* make Harry 'dog fucker' Du Bois a thing..."

APRIL 51' - 7:13pm

PEREDITION PEREGRIN'S PERCH - The little shop is shut. A placard bleached yellow from the sun reads "CLOSED" and lists the hours below. You new favourite haunt shuts at 6:30pm.

YOU - You had been so preoccupied day dreaming after your call with Kim that you were slacking in your - notably much easier - transcribing and filing duties. You left the precinct later than usual, even though your work days have been much shorter since your return to Jamrock.

ESPRIT DE CORPS [easy: success] - Jean's have become comparatively longer. He was truly relieved to hear about the Lieutenant's transfer earlier.

INTERFACING - Like you were relieved to get your hands on his number. The only problem is...

PREDICTABLY SHITTY APARTMENT - When Jean dropped you outside your flat after Martinaise, he realised you'd also lost your keys. He gave you his spare with a begrudging sigh, and the two of you were met with an absolute pigsty.

CONCEPTUALISATION - Well, you *are* a pig. What did you expect?

JEAN VICQUEMARE - He tolerated you just long enough to help clear your home of the booze, speed and rotten food, but that was it. After an unsanctimonious - and worryingly experienced - two hours of sweeping filth into a binbag whilst berating you, Jean slipped into the night, binbag in tow, and left you to your own devices.

COMPOSURE - You crept around your flat, nervously. As if the old Harry might leap out from a cupboard and strangle you. This obviously did not happen, but you did discover the sad remains of a man who'd given up *YEARS* ago.

PREDICTABLY SHITTY APARTMENT - His remains were baked into the walls and floor. Into the uncomfortable, stained mattress, into the slime coating his shower, into the kitchen bare of food, and floor full of piss-soaked clothes and vomit.

INTERFACING - Most notably, his remains were baked into the discarded telephone, smashed to pieces on the floor and ripped from it's position on the wall.

VISUAL CALCULOUS - And the holes in the drywall around said phone...

YOU - You quickly came to the conclusion that the phone was unfixable. This was not an issue because there was nobody you could call that wanted to speak to you. In fact, that was the exact train of thought that caused you realise that you'd neglected to ask Kim for any contact details.

PAIN THRESHOLD - And then you curled up in a wailing ball in the middle of your singed, smelly carpet.

VOLTION - You would have broken your sobriety right then and there, if not for the fact that *dramatically* dropping to you knees, had split a stitch in your injured thigh and unleashed physical agony to accompany the mental of returning 'home'.

However...

PEREDITION PEREGRIN'S PERCH - The little antique shop is home to many treasures. A few of which you'd made note of to refurnish your depressing 3rd-story hovel. In particular, a collection of old phones.

INTERFACING - You will need to ask the seller which ones *work* and which are just for decoration.

LOGIC - Not today though. It is shut.

PEREDITION PEREGRIN'S PERCH - Not tomorrow either, I am shut on Tuesdays.

APRIL 51' - 9:46pm

YOU - You manage to make it a full four days before you try to call Kim.

VOLITION - It would be inaccurate to refer to this as if it was a conscious test of will. The antique shop was shut for the first two days, and you didn't bother on Wednesday since you had a day off... Which you spent in bed. You bought the phone on your walk home, Thursday afternoon.

UNSMASHED PHONE - The phone is stubby and made from scratched tin in an alarming shade of cherry-blossom pink. It wasn't your first choice, but it was the cheapest *functioning* model. Besides, the rotary dial pleases your mangled brain's need to fiddle with things.

PHYSICAL INSTRUMENT - Not our first choice?! Shouldn't have been our last choice either with that *pansy's* colour!

EMPATHY - What is with you all of a sudden?! Jean tells him he used to be a gym teacher and now you're rearing your ugly head every five minutes!

ELECTROCHEMISTRY - Well, *I* had a pretty good thing going  to shut Coach up, but APPARENTLY Harry's not allowed to be fun any more.

VOLITION - The drink and drugs made the self-hatred *worse* not *better*. Or have you lost all your memories too?

YOU - Can it!

EMPATHY - I just hope you're not internalising any of this, Harrier.

YOU - Why would I listen to any of you when I could listen to Kim instead?

UNSMASHED PHONE - The brass of the rotary dial gleams a polished light orange against the phone's pink casing. It matches a brass clip on the back of the phone.

INTERFACING - This brass clip is designed to hold business cards, or other slips with people's numbers on them.

UNSMASHED PHONE - It currently holds the scrap you scrawled the Lieutenant's number on, along with a takeaway menu for pizza. You're careful as you remove his number. The cord of the phone is *just* long enough to reach the plug socket, from where it's precariously half-hanging off your windowsill.

YOU - Uh, yeah about that. Can we call it something else? 'unsmashed phone' seems like it's tempting fate.

CONCEPTUALISATION - Sure.

EFFEMINATE PHONE - I'm ready for you, darling.

INTERFACING - You jam your finger into the holes corresponding to the Lieutenant's number, reveling in the satisfying KlikKlikKlikKlik of the dial as it returns to it's resting point. It feels great! Much better than buttons.

[+1 MORALE]

ENCYLCOPEDIA [medium: success] - Rotary phones were phased out as the world sped up around them. The time you have to wait between dialing numbers would be inefficient in a call center setting, for example.

ESPRIT DE CORPS [trivial: success] - If you're ever getting murdered in your flat and need to call for help, you'll regret not spending the extra 26r to get the bank teller's phone with the embellished birds on it.

HALF LIGHT - I recommend not getting murdered.

PERCEPTION - The crackling dial tone is replaced all of a sudden with the Lieutenant's voice.

KIM KITSURAGI - "You've reached Kitsuragi,"

RHETORIC [easy: failure] - Formal! Weird way to answer the phone!

KIM KITSURAGI - "unfortunately I'm not at home right now, but if you leave a message I'll get back to you once I'm able. Merci." CLICK.

RHETORIC - Oh.

YOU - Oh.

[-1 MORALE]

COMPOSURE [medium: failure] - Of course he doesn't want to talk to you. Why would he want you to ring him in his down time? He's probably watching the phone ring out, rolling his eyes at it.

EMPATHY [medium: success] - You're being dramatic. He said he gets home between 9pm and 11pm depending on his workload. It's just barely turned 10pm, he's probably not home yet.

SHIVERS [Hard: success] - At quarter past midnight an exhausted Kim Kitsuragi will dredge himself over the threshold of his home. He forgoes removing his jacket, boots and gun holster like he usually does to collapse onto the sofa for a moment. His - already small - studio in the GRIH seems smaller than usual and yet the door-side coatrack he hangs his last vestiges of 'Lieutenant' from is a million kilometres away.

He removes his glasses and drags his, still gloved, hands down his face. I expected some *punishment*, and yet... In the four days since his transfer request he's noticed his workload increase exponentially.

ESPRIT DE CORPS - 'Tying up lose ends' his captain tells him.

EMPATHY - Milking me for all I'm worth, Kim allows himself to bitterly think.

ESPRIT DE CORPS - Lieutenant Kitsuragi is begrudgingly aware that his transfer-date was approved for *after* the captain receives his quarterly bonus. A bonus that increases depending on the precinct's solve rate.

YOU - They're using him...

EMPATHY - He can take it.

YOU - He shouldn't have to.

EMPATHY - Both are true.

SHIVERS - Kim will wake with a start the following morning. His alarm blares from his bedroom and he realises with a tinge of embarrassment that he fell asleep sat on the sofa. As he stretches and massages the stiffness from his lower back he will notice for the first time the blinking red light of his answer machine. He knows who called him immediately and his embarrassment makes way for guilt.

RHETORIC - We're coming up to two minutes on this blank voicemail, by the way.

YOU - "Shit!" You slam the receiver back on the phone ending your call to Kim.

APRIL 51' - 8:42am

KIM KITSURAGI - "Good morning, Detective. I apologise for missing your call last night, I was home somewhat later than expected. I will admit however your, ah... Message filled with *heavy breathing* and *one* expletive did amuse me somewhat. Do good work today. We shall talk soon."

MAY 51' - 11:42pm

PROBLEM MATTRESS SPRING - Boohoo... Oh Harry's Left Hip I *miss* you... I'm sooooo sad, can you not feel my tears drenching the mattress?

ENCYCLOPEDIA [trivial: success] - Springs do not have eyes.

LOGIC [trivial: success] - This means they are incapable of crying.

YOU - NO SHIT! Why me? What have I done to deserve this head?!

COMPOSURE - Do you want your list alphabetically, or chronologically?

ELECTROCHEMISTRY - We've been sober for SIX. WEEKS. That breaks all previous attempts. Jean even apologized to you the other day.

RHETORIC - It was backhanded, and awkward for you both but it was still an apology.

ELECTROCHEMISTRY - SURELY we can celebrate with a *little* tipple. Just until everyone gets a little quieter.

VOLITION - Yeah. Until *you* start getting louder.

CONCEPTUALISATION - The tipple, becomes the trickle, becomes the flood.

ELECTROCHEMISTRY - Whatever floats *your* boat.

YOU - Please... Just... Be quiet for a night...

EMPATHY [medium: success] - You're stressed. This has *always* increased with stress.

ESPRIT DE CORPS - You've been off desk duty for just over a week. Jean simply couldn't handle the fieldwork alone anymore, and as loath to admit it as he is. You *are* a superstar detective.

SAVOIR FAIRE - THE superstar! Driving fast cars and banging babes!

EMPATHY - Crashing your *moderate* car, and having *zero* babes.

COMPOSURE - You can't even get Kim to talk to you usually.

[-1 MORALE]

EMPATHY [medium: success] - Don't be selfish. His workload makes your stress look like desk duty again.

ESPRIT DE CORPS [hard: success] - For all his supposed composure, he too would have struggled to handle what you and Jean saw today.

YOU - Please no, I don't want to think about it again.

OLD JAMROCK MULTISTORY - The multiple level carpark sits three blocks behind boogie street and has lay abandoned for years. The disrepair born from poverty that plagues your city, eating away at it's foundations until a portion of the entry ramp fell in. It was never fixed, thick padlocks closing the structure off. However, the structure is popular with youths who're fond of climbing the outside cladding and skating down the now empty helter-skelter of concrete.

ESPRIT DE CORPS - The token *binoclard* youth of the group called the station to report an unmarked MC that 'Isn't usually here and stinks of rotting meat'.

UNMARKED ABANDONNED MC - It's not the only MC left to rot in this morgue of automobiles, but it's definitely stand out.

PERCEPTION [easy: success] - For one: it's lacking the thick coating of Jamrock dust covering the others cars. It also looks newer; unrusted with thick, durable wheels.

YOU -

ESPRIT DE CORPS - [FAILURE]

ESPRIT DE CORPS - There's something about the make of the MC that's tickling a 'caution' response in your brain... But you get no further than that.

YOU -

PERCEPTION - [SUCCESS]

PERCEPTION - The kid was right: it stinks of rotting meat.

UNMARKED ABANDONNED MC - As spring melds into summer, you're all starting to feel the heat and it's clearly not doing wonders for the smell. Jean's temper has gotten shorter and your cravings are stronger than ever.

ELECTROCHEMISTRY - Summer brings drinking with it at every available opportunity. Sweltering BBQs and bonfires, beach parties and camping trips, this truly is *your* season Harry-boy.

VOLITION - It... Has been hard. I am proud of you.

YOU - Can we just focus on the task at hand please?

JEAN VICQUEMARE - Your partner has done two laps of the vehicle and his face is set into a scowl. "Smell's definitely coming from the boot." He rubs a hand down his grizzled face. "I fucking hate gang killings. Why do we always get more in the summer?"

ESPRIT DE CORPS [easy: success] - Your brother-in-arms has picked up on what you could not. This make of car, with it's four-wheel drive and hardy exterior tends to be favoured by big-time drug peddlers.

ENCYCLOPEDIA [medium: success] - And also farmers.

YOU - Farmers?

DRAMA - Maybe a little jest to lighten the mood, Sire?

YOU - "Hey, we don't know that it's a killing yet. Maybe that meat smell is just meat." You gesture at the truck, "Reckon they forgot where they left the shopping for Madre's summer BBQ?"

ELECTROCHEMISTRY - BBQ, huh? Sounds fun. Nothing like a crisp apple cider in the sun, you can practically FEEL the ice crunch between your teeth.

JEAN VICQUEMARE - Despite the heat and his obvious unease, he snorts. "Yeah. Got it in one, shitkid. Let's ring 'em up and ask for an invite."

ELECTROCHEMISTRY - Yes please!

ESPRIT DE CORPS - What?! You want to get tortured?

ELECTROCHEMISTRY - No further questions until my lawyer shows up.

JEAN VICQUEMARE - "Let's get this over with," He's shoved his heavy-duty prybar into the side of the boot door, pushing his weight against the handle.

HAND/EYE COORDINATION - Man, he looks cool when he's doing that. Not like your pathetic attempts to open the Whirling's trash container.

PHYSICAL INSTRUMENT - He's ripped too! No wonder he wears the uniform, that thick black canvas is probably the only fabric strong enough to contain muscles like those!

YOU - Can we just focus, plea-

REACTION SPEED [Easy: success] - Oh god. No no no.

JEAN VICQUEMARE - As your partner pops the boot door open, the smell hits you like a tidal wave of filth. All joviality is sucked from the air in a rush of rancid death. Jean wretches.

ENDURANCE [Hard: success] - I've got you, buddy!

YOU - You bring the crook of your arm to your mouth and breathe through the material of your blazer.

PERCEPTION - Sweat. Your detergent. The stench of death still oppresses the very air but you manage to hold your composure.

JEAN VICQUEMARE - Jean is not so lucky. His face was close to the boot and rancid liquid hit his shoe as he got it open. He stumbles, coughing, away from the back and leans against the side of the vehicle to recover.

YOU -

COMPOSURE - You can't.

YOU - Huh? Why not?

VISUAL CALCULUS - Because you've already seen what's in the boot.

ESPRIT DE CORPS - It's not the smell that made Jean gag, his face was a mere half-metre from the closest body.

YOU - What am I looking at exactly?

PAIN THRESHOLD [trivial: success] - Best not.

JEAN VICQUEMARE - "Gah..." He's not facing you, but you hear the shake to his voice. "Fucking, *bastards* those twisted FUCKING bastards. Why? Why the fucking kids?"

YOU - Oh no.

EMPATHY - Oh no.

YOU - No no no, not doing this a week into fieldwork!

ESPRIT DE CORPS - You don't have a choice. Two little bodies tangled against their mother twisted inside the boot of the MC. They need their justice.

COMPOSURE - Apparently we do have a choice, because you can't see it. You're looking - staring, in fact - into the boot of this MC: you have been since Jean pried it open, but your brain is not listening to your eyes.

YOU - Good. I don't want to do this.

PERCEPTION - You're becoming quickly aware of a rushing sound in your ears, your own ragged breathing, and then-

JEAN VICQUEMARE - "Harry? Quit- Hey! Quit just fucking, *staring* would ya?!"

VISUAL CALCULUS [Easy: success] - Everything's good, you're still not seeing what you're staring at.

YOU - "Hhha..." You were trying to communicate your lack of vision to Jean, but you've lost control of your tongue.

JEAN VICQUEMARE - "*Shit*. C'mon."

PERCEPTION - You feel firm hands on your right shoulder and the small of your back, guiding you somewhere.

JEAN VICQUEMARE - "Just... Come away from there for a sec." Fuck, he thinks, he's lost it again I can see it in his eyes. *Always* struggled more than most when it came to kids.

YOU - You remembered what you saw in bits. Flashes of flesh and twisted little features stuffed into a car and abandoned. Half-way back to the precinct you had screamed on the walk, until Vic had to clap his hand over your mouth, then he was screaming back. It had felt familiar. You barely remember the rest of the work day and you don't remember getting home.

ELECTROCHEMISTRY - You remember, for the first time since you lost your memory, pulling every pill box out of your medicine cabinet and checking them *just* in case Jean had missed something.

COMPOSURE - You remember losing it and wailing when you realised he hadn't.

ESPRIT DE CORPS - You remember that this is going to be at least the next week of your working life now.

YOU - You clench your jaw and whine, rolling over directly onto the fucking spring.

PROBLEM MATTRESS SPRING - Yay~ I knew you'd come back Ha-

YOU - "SHUT UP! *FUCKING* SHUT UP!" Your voice cracks hoarsely, "EVERYTHING JUST BE QUIET!" You're on your feet marching into the kitchenette, practically vibrating with anguish. You shove your head under the tap and turn on the cold flow, letting the shock of the water and banging of the pipes distract you for a blissful half-minute.

ELECTROCHEMISTRY - Psst, Frittte has wine. One bottle won't hurt.

VOLITION - ENOUGH.

YOU - In your desperation your crane your head upwards and take fat gulps of water. It rushes mostly into your nose and you begin to choke, pulling away involuntarily.

EMPATHY [easy: success] - Kim is proud of you.

YOU - Cool. I'm in hell.

EMPATHY - You remember the second time he called you. Not at the precinct this time, but on your new home phone. It had been harder to get ahold of him than either of you had thought. But one night in late April *he* had called *you* again.

EFFEMINATE PHONE - You weren't expecting the call, you'd missed him earlier in the evening and it was almost 2am. He couldn't keep the exhaustion from his voice as he explained he'd had to do a late-night shipping container search now that he had 'Jamrock-shuffle mentoring.'

KIM KITSURAGI - "The search wasn't an *entire* waste of time, but I had wanted to call you before midnight. I believe congratulations are in order."

YOU - "Huh? Congratulate *me*?"

KIM KITSURAGI - "Yes Detective, by my count you were a month sober as of yesterday." He allows a smile to enter his voice, "Unless you decided to celebrate a month of sobriety by drinking to it?" Every time he calls he sounds more ragged. It's clear his precinct are overworking him and it's reducing the discipline he has to steel his voice.

EMPATHY [formidable: success] - He's also allowing himself to be more open with you over the phone, because you're both off duty and he feels better about it when you're not actively staring at him.

YOU - "O- Oh, thanks Kim!"

EFFEMINATE PHONE - You didn't keep him long, as late as it was, but the fact he called *you* when last time you got a simple "I'm sorry, Detective, but I was about to head to sleep." means a lot.

ELECTROCHEMISTRY - Yeah okay, I'm putting my foot down: if we're not drinking or doing drugs I need something to keep that serotonin coming. If praise from the world's most boring man is what it takes then I'm gonna need a lot more of it.

YOU - Kim's not boring.

PHYSICAL INSTRUMENT [formiddable: failure] - Oh he's boring all right. A boring, skinny, balding, *binoclard* that you are for some reason OBSESSED with.

EMPATHY - Yeah, don't worry about it big guy.

YOU - He's not boring! He's good at games, and sarcastic, and he drives really fast. I get kinda worried about him driving home when he's so tired at the moment. It's like his precinct are trying to kill him off.

Your muttonchops and the ends of your hair are drenched from the cold tap. You shiver in the dark of your kitchenette.

SHIVERS [impossible: success] - You are more correct than either of you understand.

YOU - What?!

SHIVERS [impossible: failure] - It is not yet time.

YOU - What does that mean?! What?! Is it something we did in Martinaise?

SHIVERS [impossible: success] - This is older than you.

ENCYCLOPEDIA [impossible: success] - Knowledge is power. The Lieutenant knows a dangerous secret.

YOU - Is he..? Shit. I'm calling him.

EFFEMINATE PHONE - The extended crises you've been experiencing this evening have pushed you past your 1am cutoff by eleven minutes, but you key in the Lieutenant's number regardless. It rings once... Twice...

HALF LIGHT [medium: failure] - Gone. You're too late.

EFFEMINATE PHONE - CLICK.

KIM KITSURAGI - "Detective?"

COMPOSURE - OH THANK GOD.

YOU - "You're alive!"

KIM KITSURAGI - There's a rustling over the line that you recognise as the nylon of his jacket. "Khm. Yes, I just got home." The tiredness is still present, but there's an undercurrent of worry there too. "Is everything alright, harry?"

ELECTROCHEMISTRY - Urmph! Busting out the first name. I knew this would be a *great* idea.

[+1 MORALE]

ESPRIT DE CORPS [Medium: failure] - DON'T tell him you think his *precinct* are trying to *actively kill* him. You have no idea what you're on about and the thought will irritate him.

YOU -

DRAMA - [SUCCESS]

YOU -

YOU - Holy shit, and this is a success?

COMPOSURE - You are severely mentally unwell. Oh well! Get on with it, Harrier.

YOU -

YOU - "The city told me that there are people out there that want to kill you."

KIM KITSURAGI - Over the handset, you hear a zip and clacking sound as the Lieutenant removes his jacket and unbuckles his gun holster. Ah, he thinks, I'm going to have a nice normal post-work phonecall then. He stops removing his outerwear before he answers you.
"Naturally, Detective." His voice is level and professional. "I don't mean to alarm you but there are people out there that want to harm you as well." You hear a tap run as the Lieutenant gets himself a glass of water. "The very essence of our job means that we *will* make enemies over time. Martinaise alone probably-"

REACTION SPEED [Formidable: failure] - Harry, trust me, don't-

YOU - "No! Not 'cos of the job, they want to kill *you* Kim!"

KIM KITSURAGI - There is a jarring silence over the line. Where before you could hear the Lieutenant as he busied himself, you know he's stopped in place. Then... "Did you have a bad dream, Detective?"

EMPATHY [medium: success] - He's offering you an out here. You should take it.

YOU - "I've been awake! It's not... Ugh, she says neither of us get it yet but they want to kill you because of *who* you are NOT your damn job!"

KIM  KITSURAGI - "She?"

YOU - "Revachol, Kim! There's people here who want to kill *you specifically*, not 'cos you're a cop!"

KIM KITSURAGI - He sighs deeply. "Yes." There's a weight to that syllable. He doesn't elaborate further.

YOU - "Wait, what do you mean *yes*?" Your tone is sharp.

EMPATHY - Harry, stop. You will hurt him.

YOU - "If you know then why don't you care?"

KIM KITSURAGI - Don't care... Don't care? There's a rustling over the line, then you hear the familiar click of a lighter. He inhales deeply and gives himself a moment to think of his response. Why am I having to explain the concept of bigotry to this man at one in the morning.

RHETORIC [medium: success] - He doesn't know what you're on about because *you* don't know what you're on about. The Lieutenant has misunderstood your vague, madman's ramblings.

SHIVERS - IT IS NOT YET TIME.

KIM KITSURAGI - "You remember the racists in Martinaise, correct?" For the first time, you hear a weariness in his voice that is almost definitely directed at you. "And I'm presuming you remember when I said 'there's always a next racist', hmm?"

PERCEPTION [formidable: success] - He's smoking quicker than he usually does, you can hear him suck at the filter between his sentences.

KIM KITSURAGI - "Well, Detective. Sometimes the next racist is in *the harbour*, or in *Jamrock*, or at the *cornershop* where I buy my *bread*. Or at *a bar*." His tone grows more irritable as he talks. "Sometimes I pass them in the *street*, and sometimes they're *not* racist, sometimes they don't like *the underground*, as you've taken to calling it. And sometimes - most of the time - it is to do with my job."

ESPRIT DE CORPS - The thing that he *chose* to be hated for.

EMPATHY - I told you you'd hurt him if you brought this up.

KIM KITSURAGI - "I hope this clears things up, Officer, and is there anything else I can help you with this evening?" His tone replicates an underpaid telephone operator. Absolutely dripping with impatience.

COMPOSURE [formidable: success] - He wouldn't have been quite so blunt with you if he wasn't quickly firing towards burnout. You can handle it.

EMPATHY [Hard: success] - But you *have* upset him.

[-1 MORALE]

EFFEMINATE PHONE - An uncomfortable silence carries over the line. You listen to him finish his smoke while *you* try not to blub down the line at him.

KIM KITSURAGI - "Detective?" His voice is softer. having had his cigarette and a moment of peace he begins to feel a touch of regret for his outburst.

YOU - "I just worry..." You sound small, like a bearded grizzly child.

KIM KITSURAGI - He sighs, "I am aware." Perhaps I was too harsh with him... He thinks. "But you needn't be. I handle myself just fine."

SHIVERS [impossible: success] - Seventeen years ago, during one of the summer's hottest days, Junior-Officer Kim Kitsuragi of the RCM was dragged behind a shipping container by one of the dockworkers. He'd left his patrol cloak hanging in the precinct to avoid the heat whilst on beat, forgoing the telltale silver rectangles of authority.

HALF LIGHT - His assailant had almost half a foot on him, twice as much bulk, and screamed in his face about 'little kipt job stealing *rats*, sniffing about where they shouldn't be'.

PHYSICAL INSTRUMENT - As Kim tried to push past, the dockworker's red face bulged in rage. The moment the confrontation became physical, Kim had produced cuffs and brought the dockworker back to the station with him.

ESPRIT DE CORPS - His superior at the time had chastised Officer Kitsuragi for 'wasting time on something so menial' and simply *advised* him to 'wear the damn uniform if you can't hack it'.

EMPATHY [easy: success] - He won't be coddled, and now you've made him feel guilty. Whatever you do, use this opportunity to change the subject. Don't pick that 3rd option.

YOU -

YOU - Again, none of these options are good.

RHETORIC [Hard: success] - They're not ideal, but the only thing Kim hates more than talking about other people's problems is talking about his own. Switch to you, for once it'll be a welcome relief.

YOU -

YOU - "I found a bunch of dead kids in a car boot today."

KIM KITSURAGI - There's a pause, when his voice returns it is low with sympathy, "...Ah."

YOU - "The- The mom too. They were pretty dissolved. A bad acid job Jean thinks. It was..."

KIM KITSURAGI - "Awful."

REACTION SPEED [impossible: failure] - huh?

YOU - "Yeah," You bark out a pathetic little laugh. "Yeah, that's the word. I- I really wanted to drink... Or some speed- I was *REALLY* close to just, giving up again..."

KIM KITSURAGI - He hums down the line. Why didn't he lead with this?! "But you didn't, correct?"

EMPATHY [formidable: success] - He's flipped from being angry with you to feeling needlessly cruel in the span of a minute.

YOU - "No... I've just been in bed. My head's been bad about it, think that's why I heard her. Sorry for bringing it up."

KIM KITSURAGI - "Don't apologise. What's done is done." What he doesn't say is, find somebody else to worry about, you ridiculous man...

YOU - Wait, does he mean me or himself?

RHETORIC [impossible: failure] - Yes.

KIM KITSURAGI - "I'm sorry for snapping at you just now, but more than that I'm proud of you for the effort you're putting into your recovery. It's *truly* admirable, all things considered."

ELECTROCHEMISTRY - OH YEAH, THAT'S THE GOOD STUFF.

[+1 MORALE]

EMPATHY - You do feel better. It's like the images of what you saw in the carpark are melting away.

CONCEPTUALISATION - Like ice-cream on the sidewalks of Boogie Street.

YOU - "Kim?"

KIM KITSURAGI - "Yes?"

YOU - "Just be careful, okay?"

PERCEPTION [Easy: failure] - A huff. You've pissed him off again.

KIM KITSURAGI - "I always am, Detective." There's a surprising warmth to his voice. "In fact, the very nature of *you* telling *me* to be careful seems a little absurd, don't you think?"

LOGIC - He has a point.

YOU - "Yeah, I guess so." He will be fine and you are no longer thinking of dead children. You feel all at once relaxed AND tired enough to sleep. "Do you want me to let you go? You sound tired."

KIM KITSURAGI - He hums for a moment considering it. "Ah... Fuck it."

REACTION SPEED - Oh?

ELECTROCHEMISTRY - Oh?

KIM KITSURAGI - "I was planning on turning up a few hours late tomorrow, I have time." You can practically hear the way he puffs out his chest.

ESPRIT DE CORPS - At the height of your Tequila Sunset days you would routinely show up six hours late to a ten hour shift. MOST officers do not do this. Kim however is one of the very few who prides himself on being reliably punctual.

KIM KITSURAGI - It is necessary, he thinks, I shall not be walked on. I am leaving soon anyway. He stifles a yawn. Good god, if I was an RCM *horse* as opposed to an officer they'd have made glue from me by now. He furrows his brow at this strange thought as it arises.

AUTHORITY [hard: success]  - This is his way of trying to teach you to stand up for yourself when necessary. Even against your superiors.

SHIVERS [formidable: success] - When Kim Kitsuragi's alarm goes off tomorrow, he'll wake up confused on his sofa. "Again..." He mutters to nobody, finding his glasses on the floor where they've slipped from his face. He will stretch his sore muscles on his way to bed, silencing his alarm and stripping off. He realises with some disappointment, that he's very much awake by the time he crawls under the sheets.

Over the course of the next hour, the Lieutenant will struggle to get any proper rest, eventually giving up and heading into the 57th a grand total of 40 minutes late. If any of his colleagues notice his absence they do not comment on it.

EMPATHY - You can change that.

YOU - "Woah!! Holy shit Kim! Way to go! Stick it to the man!" Then, after a moment you add. "You should sell your gun to a pawn shop too!"

KIM KITSURAGI - "Khm. Yes, well... I shan't be doing that any time soon, Detective."

EMPATHY [trivial: success] - If he was anyone else I'd think he were mocking me...

YOU - What was that thing he mentioned about the horse, by the way? Is glue made from horses?

ENCYCLOPEDIA [medium: failure] - Yes, every bottle of child's craft glue contains at least three horses.

YOU - "Oh my god... All those poor horses getting turned into glue, no wonder Jean's so sad all the time."

KIM KITSURAGI - "What in *gods* name are you talking about, Harry?" Tired. Baffled. How the *hell* does he manage to..?

EFFEMINATE PHONE - You speak for another twenty minutes, finally remembering to ask if Kim knew about the airspeed of a peregrine falcon (he did). You also let him know that rotary phones were phased out due to people not being able to call the RCM fast enough as they were being murdered (he was sceptical, but humoured you). It's only as you're telling a great story about Mack Torson doing an impression of Jean and not realising Jean was behind him, that you realise the Lieutenant is being *extra* quiet.

YOU - "Uh, well I thought it was funny anyway."

KIM KITSURAGI - "..."

YOU - "Kim?"

PERCEPTION [easy: failure] - Nothing.

HALF LIGHT [Trivial: failure] - They got him. The secret assassins that are after poor Kim got him, while you were talking about fucking Mack and Chester of all things.

ESPRIT DE CORPS - Don't be ridiculous, you would *hear* your half-brother being murdered over the phone.

PERCEPTION [easy: success] - Now that you've taken a moment, you can definitely hear him breathing. It's rhythmic and a little heavier than usual.

YOU - Wait, did he fall asleep?

INLAND EMPIRE [Challenging success] - In a small studio flat on the outskirts of the GRIH, Lieutenant Kim Kitsuragi is curled on his side, eyes shut and glasses threatening to spill from his face. The handset of his phone is trapped between the arm of the sofa and his head. He has one arm curled over his stomach with the other supporting his neck. He breathes gently through his open mouth and he is, indeed, asleep.

YOU - You smile as the image of your friend plays across your brain. "Goodnight, Kim." You whisper before you put down the phone.