[OTC] Memory
[Part of the Quadruple Murder Storyline. Danny = ![[livejournal.com profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/external/lj-userinfo.gif)
stillacrime, Buffy = whattingawhat, Angell = foundherwings, and she is used with permission.]
He was tired. He could feel his back starting to ache, and his head was killing him, but adrenaline and worry was winning out and he was still managing to function somewhat as a police officer. A tired, pissed off and frustrated police officer, who was mostly giving witnesses looks that could kill if that were even possible, but he was still a police officer nonetheless. He had been canvassing outside of the grocery store for a few hours now, and had come up with shit in terms of people who had actually seen anything, and that wasn’t exactly helping his disposition. He wanted Danny found yesterday, and that wasn’t working out in his favor all that well.
It was probably mostly the fact that he had heard this from Buffy that was throwing him. Usually he was the one giving the bad news, as oppose to the one receiving it, and the fact that he didn’t know something was up with Danny before she did, that she was worrying before he had the chance to tell her—that wasn’t sitting right with him. He didn’t know why, but it wasn’t. It was starting to feel like more and more he wasn’t doing his job in protecting his best friend, and that was never a good feeling to have, to say the least.
He wandered his way over to the next shop on the street, not too far from where the grocery store was located, and before he even started walking inside, the man behind the counter was shaking his head, and giving him a sympathetic yet firm look. “Sorry, Detective. I ain’t got nothin’ for ya.”
Flack gave him a ‘you gotta be kiddin’ me’ look, before crossing his arms in front of his chest. “Are you sure about that?”
( *** )
1600 words
stillacrime, Buffy = whattingawhat, Angell = foundherwings, and she is used with permission.]He was tired. He could feel his back starting to ache, and his head was killing him, but adrenaline and worry was winning out and he was still managing to function somewhat as a police officer. A tired, pissed off and frustrated police officer, who was mostly giving witnesses looks that could kill if that were even possible, but he was still a police officer nonetheless. He had been canvassing outside of the grocery store for a few hours now, and had come up with shit in terms of people who had actually seen anything, and that wasn’t exactly helping his disposition. He wanted Danny found yesterday, and that wasn’t working out in his favor all that well.
It was probably mostly the fact that he had heard this from Buffy that was throwing him. Usually he was the one giving the bad news, as oppose to the one receiving it, and the fact that he didn’t know something was up with Danny before she did, that she was worrying before he had the chance to tell her—that wasn’t sitting right with him. He didn’t know why, but it wasn’t. It was starting to feel like more and more he wasn’t doing his job in protecting his best friend, and that was never a good feeling to have, to say the least.
He wandered his way over to the next shop on the street, not too far from where the grocery store was located, and before he even started walking inside, the man behind the counter was shaking his head, and giving him a sympathetic yet firm look. “Sorry, Detective. I ain’t got nothin’ for ya.”
Flack gave him a ‘you gotta be kiddin’ me’ look, before crossing his arms in front of his chest. “Are you sure about that?”
( *** )
1600 words