Snippet #2063752

Coffee makers always reminded him of the beakers in chemistry class; which, he was sure, contributed to his utmost care when it came to handling the stuff. An explosion of coffee would surely be no less than unpleasant. and surely scald the skin tissue right off his face. Perhaps by some off-chance mercy of a particularly humorous God in the clouds, that would be the bane of their current pest problem, and all they had to do was plant coffee bombs all around town.

... No, wait, Nasir didn't seem particularly averse to grounded beans. Drat.

Humming out his disappointment in a lone, idle tune, Teo watched the black streams pool into puddles, ripples giving way to rolls of steady steam from each mug. His was a bright lime green, tall with a rounded handle, with some form of neat script proclaiming fame or adoration of so-and-so location. In a manner one might be able to call "expertly," he swayed from side to side, avoiding fellow suits who were nose-deep in some case or other. The mugs sloshed gently, but Teo didn't spill a single drop. This was an accomplishment that took practice. The occult division was much busier than drug & vice, filled to the brim with furious stomping feet and ruffling paperwork, photographs of mutilated cadavers and telephones that rang so hard they may as well leap from their respective desks into the wastebin. He predicted one to go off as soon as he arrived at his destination, in fact. Dwelling too near to the wall nearly caused Teo to collide with the infernal field agent, which would have been a bad, bad turn-out of events (although sufficient research material to test his coffee-bomb theory). Smiling widely, wryly, Teo gave Nasir something of a talk-to-you-later shrug and sidled past him into Collins' office.

"Busy day, everyday," greeted the younger detective, "they should'a made that the motto at the academy, huh?" He slid one steaming cup across the wooden desk--either a subtle way of saying "Thanks for watching my ass that one time, buddy" or "Don't scream for the superiors just yet, I'm only slacking off a little bit." Who could claim it wasn't a bit of both? Unable to help himself, he craned his neck meagerly to get a glimpse at what his senior was working on. Vampires. Great; there was so much talk of those buggers lately, it was discomforting. He imagined Collins must be having a fair amount more stress about the matter though--why, was that a white hair he spied? Before he could open his mouth to share some useless comment, the phone rang--as he'd thought. Without entirely thinking (or asking permission), he swiped it from its receiver, nestling it between ear and shoulder as he toyed with one of his suspenders.

"Y'ello, Collins' office."

When he heard the voice of a woman on the other line, he half-expected a damsel in distress, complaining of a long lost brother and beseeching his department's aid in a long lost mystery. The fantasy was quenched and stomped into dust soon enough. He recalled hearing complaints around the precinct about the FBI, the strain in the foreheads at the very mention of the acronym. Swiveling his back to Collins to ignore any protest, Teo continued, "The good detective has stepped out for the time being, ma'am. Bathroom break. Very sorry! Couldja leave a message?"