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ᴡɪʟʟ ɢʀᴀʜᴀᴍ; ᴄʀɪᴍɪɴᴀʟ p̶r̶o̶f̶i̶l̶e̶r̶ (
2017-02-27 07:14 pm (UTC)
There's a certain demeanor most cops adopt around people they're arresting. It's human nature, Will knows that. He understands it. But that doesn't mean he's quite as good at the dehumanizing that seems to propel about half his colleagues through hushed brutality complaints.
Not that sassing criminals is really what he ought to be doing, for various reasons.
Will's got his glasses on - shatter proof, expensive as hell, but less of a pain in the ass than taking them on and off whenever he's writing tickets or talking to the public - but he doesn't duck behind them quick enough to avoid the serious stare being leveled at him.
He blinks, genuine surprise leaking eagerly at the edges of his on-duty-mask. Will's only easily unbalanced when he's actually unsure of himself, though, and he's been doing this job for almost five years. "No." Will keeps his gun's holster open, but leaves it there. He takes a step back and jerks his head towards the doorway, one hand just barely tipping to indicate that this man can go ahead and lead the way out. "I guess there'll only be one person talking during the ride back."
Right on cue is the heavier one, echoing from the kitchen barely fifteen steps away. "Y'all didn't even try to catch the others. They call you in here to do this? Those sons of bitches."
Will doesn't really feel bad when, as he and Broussard fold their respective suspects into the back of the police car, the heavier one knocks his head on the door frame. By contrast, Will's suspect - neither of them had any ID on them, even in their wallets, which were devoid of anything except cash money and, in the heavier one's case, a nameless Costco card - is nearly graceful as he slides in, quiet and emotionless as a stone.
He also watches them, in spurts, in the rear view mirror. Will catches him as he and Broussard trade places for the ride back, Will in the passenger's seat.
By the time Broussard is pulling back onto the resident street, though, he's just staring out the window, eyes bloodshot but dry.
Will stays staring forward at the road, calling in their find to New Orleans PD on his own cellphone.
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