#get out of my wips boy. disco blast

[vvindication]

what would you trade the pain for? — 3. Fire Escape

3.4k word count content warnings: implied homophobia, alcoholism, medical neglect

Vincent Travart, diligent patrol officer of precinct 41 in the RCM, forms a bond with the infamous Lt. Du Bois when he fails to escape his own inherent need to help people — unwittingly exposing himself to the very beating heart of Revachol, a man who he will never be able to drive from his mind as it seems he's fated to shadow his every step.

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"Did you hear about the latest Mullen case?"

Any other day, Vincent would have tuned out the usual morning gossip. Today however, his coworkers in the B Wing crowd around a couple of commandeered desks - including his own - cluttering the workspace with lukewarm mugs of scalded coffee. The machine has been acting up ever since yesterday's power outage, providing even less appetizing drinks than usual.

"What? Like, those lame detective novels?" A Junior Officer, no older than eighteen, replies, "can't believe you read that garbage."

Unfortunately, the others are impossible to ignore while standing over him, chattering among themselves.

"No, dumbass," the other insists, "the one working in C Wing."

"There's a Mullen in C Wing?" The eldest of them interjects - a young brunette man who's sprawling his arms across the surface as if he owns it.

Joakim meanwhile has claimed one of the few chairs available to sit directly behind his partner, a loose sheaf of papers in hand as he pretends not to listen. He passively scans the words printed there, leaned back comfortably with his feet propped up on the empty desk adjacent. Over his shoulder, Vincent can make out what seems to be a general summary of gang activity in, and related to, Central Jamrock.

"No! Not literally!" The blond who started the whole conversation is beginning to lose his patience, sighing and letting his cup thud onto the wood. "Just some fuckup I heard about. Gonna let me tell or not? - heard the guy's marriage fell apart when he was caught with another -"

"Shh! Don't let Břeti hear you."

Everyone turns their heads at that, light catching on the lens of Vincent's glasses and reflecting in a distracting spot on the ceiling. The grizzled lieutenant glares in their direction from under greying brows, busy enough not to waste the time reprimanding them on his way past.

He dares his own little wave, even if it isn't reciprocated.

The junior laughs and elbows the man standing next to her, "Quit being such a kissass, Travart." Her companion snickers, looking away.

Joakim's gaze snaps up, suddenly shifting to sit properly in his chair. "Can see your brown nose from here. Not a competition."

"That's rich from you -!"

Within seconds, overlapping voices are drowning out all other sound as an argument cascades down around him like a great waterfall. He flinches and clasps a hand over one ear. "Hey, hey, take it easy -" he tries to protest - none of them relent. Underneath, a shrill whine is still piercing at his mind. He forces his eyes shut tight as pressure gathers behind them.

"Quiet." His partner's raised voice cuts through the noise above him, cold as jagged stone. There's a tense few seconds of silence before anyone speaks again. "Gossip somewhere else. We're working."

"Fuckin' killjoy ..." One of them mutters.

The three begrudgingly collect their mugs, wandering away to take perch on one of the wing's less ancient desks of sturdy manufactured metal. That certainly won't be the last of the trouble they cause in one day.

Vincent hesitantly checks that he is in the clear with one eye, still clutching at his own head. "You good?" Joakim speaks calmly. He's the only one standing over him now, warm grey gaze betraying concern as he grips his shoulder.

He nods, wordless at first, then taps his temple. "Head's been killing me ever since that lightning strike."

"And you haven't seen the lazareth." It's a statement laced with disappointment, not a question.

"Hell no." He mutters, fingers pressed into the skin.

"Travart -"

"Don't get started. I'll go see him after lunch."

"Good." He moves away with a sharp tap to his upper back. "Don't keep me waiting."

"Yeah, yeah."

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