And damn the consequences

Daisy Hookum. Chief Detective of Operation Auror. RP blog for Penumbra.

[dci-daisy-blog]

ofandromedas‌:

Andromeda slides into the backseat of Daisy’s car, the stiffer material of her protective clothing crinkling as she settled. It occurs to her that she’s never seen Daisy properly working before; even with the shock, she could still acknowledge how bizarre it was to go from one extreme to the other. Her gaze drifts from the back of her friend’s head to the window, street lights glimmering hazily through the glass in the dark early morning hour. “I trust you,” she repeats. “If anyone can figure out what’s happened, it’s you.” 

Daisy’s final assurance sinks in, and she realizes she could be a suspect. What were the odds that her cousin’s dead body would have shown up at her workplace, of all places? Combined with her distance from her family, and it was certainly enough for the police to consider her shady. “I didn’t. I swear,” she responds, her eyes catching Daisy’s briefly in the rearview mirror. “I mean, I can’t help but - well - we didn’t meet the terms of their ransom, did we? Lucius and I. That part is my fault. But I wouldn’t have ever hurt him. He was just a kid, Daisy. All I wanted was for him to come home.” Her voice catches a little at the end and she clears her throat. “I’ll tell you - anyone - whatever you need to sort out what happened.”

Daisy knew they'd have eyes on them. Everything would be monitored when they got to the station. If the mole was real and not some hoax made up to drive her up the wall with frustration, they'd be watching too. In the car, at least they had a little while to talk. Andromeda's declaration of trust meant more to Daisy than she'd care to admit. "I'm a cynical bitch," Daisy replied. "People lie, and they have secrets, but I trust you too." She sighed, not because trusting Andromeda was difficult, but simply because talking about her feelings at all was challenging to her.

"I know you didn't do this. You don't have to convince me." The very fact Andromeda felt the need to plea, 'I swear', it broke her heart. "Stop it. It's not your fault. They might have done this even if you'd paid the ransom. His death is on the hands of the person who hurt him. Nobody else. Especially not you." She just wanted to reach into the back seat and squeeze her hand, to hold her and reassure her, to have a damn beer with her and help her. But they were almost at the station, and there would be eyes on them. "Just try and stay calm, okay? You're a witness, not a suspect."

[dci-daisy-blog]

Whiskey & Whine || Daisy & Andromeda

[dci-daisy-blog]

ofandromedas‌:

The mystery of the anonymous text has been successfully unearthed with Daisy’s confirmation that both texts were from the same date. “Do you think they could be from the same person? In your professional, investigator opinion.” She shrugs, letting the iMessage screen stare them both down for a second longer before she flicks her phone off and drops it onto the couch space between them. “Ah, I don’t know. Honestly, probably both - because that’s what Sirius did. He turned his back on the Sacred 28, which means he alienated himself from the family too. I’m a black sheep, sure, but I’m still…involved to some degree.” It’s odd to say it aloud - the subject of her disowned cousin is one she doesn’t talk about often, unless she’s passively deflecting an ill-aimed dig from said family. 

Her frown deepens. Having done a number on the sesame chicken - was it stress eating? - she settled back into the couch, tapping her finger against the wine glass in her hand as she thought. “Good point. So you’ve got to figure out a way to weed out a mole - if there is one. Someone could just be messing with you like they’re messing with me. I mean, that text bothered me. Yours is bothering you. If it’s meant to get under our skin, it’s worked.” 

Daisy might have been wine-tipsy (not quite wine-drunk yet, but slowly getting there) but she was smart enough and experienced enough to see the patterns, even when she was three sheets to the wind. "Oh yeah, either from the same person or the same group of people. They sound like those Order of the Phoenix creepers." Probably (definitely) too blunt a comment for an ongoing investigation, but fuck it.

"Hmm. If Sirius is the black sheep, you're probably the dark gray sheep. The charcoal sheep." Daisy gave Andromeda a light nudge with her elbow. She could tell Andromeda was worried about things. About Regulus, about Sirius, about the message, and probably everything in between. "It's not just under my skin, crawling through my flipping veins," Daisy scoffed, eating some more salt and pepper fries. "I'll work it out. Don't worry about it." Easier said than done, she knew. "Bugger this, right? Come on. The new Queer Eye is on Netflix."

[dci-daisy-blog]

ofandromedas‌:

Andromeda promptly offers a small shake of her head, folding her arms across her chest. “I wouldn’t ever be angry with you for doing your job, trust me,” she assures Daisy seriously. If anyone can understand going into work mode, it’s Andromeda. Besides, she trusts her friend; anything she asks or says would be for the sake of the investigation, nothing personal. “I’m glad you’re here. Whatever you need me to do, I’ll do it.” Staying calm is another matter but one she can certainly manage. Hell, remaining calm under pressure is practically her entire job. 

The vision of Regulus’ body on the ground dances behind her eyelids, but still she nods, letting a nearby stranger hand her what almost looks like a full-body scrub. While stepping into the legs and pulling the thin, crepey material over her clothes she allows her eyes to flick briefly to where her cousin was. The huddled gang of investigators, some taping off the area and others likely examining the body, hide him from view. “Yeah, right. Of course,” she agrees with a nod once she straightens, turning her attention back to Daisy and obligingly stepping with her toward the car. “Are they going to have to…question me or something too?”

There were very few things that ever got between Daisy and her work. The job came first, before family gatherings, before dates, before nights at the pub. And yeah... usually before friends. But this was different. It wasn't as if Daisy was about to go ballistic and blow the whole thing out of the water, but everything felt /wrong/ with Andromeda sitting in the back of her car.

"We'll sort it out, okay?" She knew there wasn't any making it right. Regulus was dead. Andromeda had found the body. Telling her it was all going to be alright would be a load of bollocks, but they weren't going to be throwing her in the cells. At least that, she hoped, would make Andromeda feel better. "They'll want to talk to you to find out what happened." She said 'they', as if she was removed from it in some way. As if it wasn't her bloody team.

"I'll have to declare our relationship, get another detective to sit in with us to make sure there's no bias..." She shook her head. She never let this stuff get to her personally. Yeah, she was passionate, but this was something else. "I know it's awful, but I know you had nothing to do with this."

[dci-daisy-blog]

ofandromedas‌:

Seeing Daisy - a friendly face amongst the sea of police and investigators on the scene - was a relief. Despite not being the typically affectionate type (neither of them were) Andromeda was ready to envelope her best friend in an embrace, but snuffed the urge at her comment. It probably had something to do with conflict of interest. Regardless, Andromeda obeyed, folding her arms across her chest and letting Daisy give her a once-over. “Right, okay.” She sucked in a breath, steeling herself to recount her memories as thoroughly as possible without letting emotion get in the way. “I was in the middle of a night shift. My lunch break started at three, and I came out here to get my sandwich out of my rental car - I usually take the Tube or bus but this week’s been so crazy, it’s just been easier just in case I…needed to be somewhere.” 

She shakes her head a little, feeling herself getting distracted. “Anyway. I got out here around 5 after. Found him after I’d left the stairwell. I, um…when I saw him I screamed. Security heard me, and came, but I called emergency services.” A pause, trying to remember. Her normal affinity for details was a bit foggy. “I, uh, touched the left - his left - side of his neck and his left wrist looking for a pulse. There wasn’t one. And I unbuttoned his shirt to see the wound. It looked like it was from a bullet. Left side of the body, upper chest, straight where the heart would be. I refrained from chest compressions because it, uh, seemed…well, the victim would have remained unresponsive.” Referring to her cousin as the ‘victim’ failed to separate herself from the situation as much as she wished it had. “After that I sat back and waited until help came.” 

Daisy wasn't a soft and fuzzy type, but that didn't mean she was completely devoid of emotion. She was passionate about her work, but she was also passionate about her friends, few as they were. She'd never expected the worlds to collide so horrifically. "I'm sorry," she said quietly, not because she was ashamed, but so they couldn't be overheard. "I'm going to deal with this. Just stay calm for me. And don't be angry at me for going into work mode, okay?" She wasn't exactly delicate as a rule, but this situation called for delicacy.

None of what Andromeda had told her about the body was unreasonable. Andromeda was a doctor. Of course her instinct would be to check for a pulse and attempt to administer emergency first-aid. She just needed to know these things so they could explain any transfer of blood and fibres. "Okay. We're going to need to get you to the station. We'll need your clothes, fingerprints, a DNA sample. Everything will need to go for testing." She gestured to one of the forensic experts to get Andromeda some protective clothing to place over her regular clothes until they could remove them at the station. "Are you okay to get in my car?"

[dci-daisy-blog]

Whiskey & Whine || Daisy & Andromeda

[dci-daisy-blog]

ofandromedas‌:

Andromeda was surprised that Daisy didn’t know about her own text message - it felt like forever ago that she’d initially shown it to Alastor in the park the day of the search party. A detail that had once unsettled her immensely. Truth be told she had entirely forgotten about it in the time since the ransom, her mind preoccupied with press conferences and dollar signs and the imagined responsibility of a young boy’s life on her shoulders. 

At Daisy’s request she pulled out her phone, unlocked it, and began scrolling through her text conversations before she found the one she was looking for (now buried beneath dozens of group texts and conversations with coworkers). “Here,” she offered, holding out her phone so that the screen was in Daisy’s line of vision while drinking wine with the other. “God, it feels like ages ago. Was it the same day that I got mine? I let Alastor see this when Reg first went missing - I’m surprised he didn’t mention it to you.” A frown tugged the corners of her mouth downward, feeling Daisy’s apprehension and frustration rolling off of her in waves. “Have you told anyone about this? Like, a superior?”

Daisy wasn't the kind to be easily shocked. She'd been in the police force long enough that she'd seen horrors beyond imagining. Seeing Andromeda's message felt like someone had thrown cold water on her. Had it been a kind of arrogance to assume this was all about her? If Andromeda had received a message, how many others had too?

"It's the same date." They'd mentioned Sirius, Andromeda's other cousin. Get out like Sirius did. "They're talking about your family?" Yes, technically it was a question, but Daisy knew the answer. "Or The Sacred 28? To be honest, I always thought you were a little bit of a black sheep anyway. No pun intended." She sighed. "I suppose Alastor didn't want to betray a confidence." And she couldn't fault him for that, even if she wished she'd known this sooner. "I haven't told anyone, until you. How do I know my superior isn't the exact snake they're talking about?"

[dci-daisy-blog]

atted‌:

He accepts to meet DCI Hookum because, quite frankly, he doesn’t really want to know what happens when you tell a member of the Metropolitan Police ‘no’. He imagines it likely ends in some sort of raid following on from the suspicion that you have something to hide or being slapped with an accusation that you’re perverting the course of justice ( to tell the truth, everything he knows about cops comes from watching The Bill when he was younger ). “Hi Daisy,” Ted says, smiling through the automatic nerves that come from seeing her uniform despite having done nothing wrong, prone to feeling the same way about the slim chance of a non-existent knife turning up in his hand luggage whilst passing through airport security, making sure to give her hand a sturdy shake.

“Oh– yeah, I guess so.” He gestures to a spare seat and refrains from telling her that all of his furniture was either from a second-hand shop or found on the street. Could you get arrested for taking what other people had fly-tipped? Surely it was unwanted and therefore fair game? “I don’t really know if you’d called it useful information. It’s just what The Quibbler has picked up on over the past couple of years.” His fingers glide over the keyboard of his laptop, its fan whirring loudly in constant protest as he digs through the jumbled mess of archives saved in a muddle of files thanks to Xenophilius. “I’ve only been working for The Quib for half a year or so, but my colleague – the founder and editor – he’s been keeping an eye on The Order for a while now.” The chair beneath him creaks as he leans forward, hazarding a guess at the information that would be useful. “Their name, The Order of the Phoenix, first crops up in 2000. Something to do with being at an anti-capitalism protest here in London. It looks like they pulled the usual stunts for a few years. All packing a punch, all completely anonymous, dressed in masks, with zero arrests, zero interviews, zero spokespeople.”

Ted struck her as personable. He called her by her first name. Those types of seemingly inocuous choices told you a lot about a person, just like the office told her a lot about the business. Ted struck Daisy as the type of guy that wanted to make friends - or at least to be on friendly terms. That meant Daisy would follow the same lead. "Do you mind if I call you Ted?" she asked with a polite smile.

She took the seat he'd gestured to. His office had a kind of thrift store vibe, the kind of place with a bit of everything rather than that structured, interior design sort of feel. Cheap furniture but a laptop that seemed (at least at first glance) as if it was decently expensive. It gave Daisy the exact information she needed to know about the Quibbler.

"Only half a year? You seem pretty well settled." She made notes as she spoke, barely needing to look at her notepad. Daisy didn't need to ask many questions before Ted dove right in. He seemed the sort with a passion for his work that made him enthusiastic to talk about it. "As far back as that?" Zero this, zero that. No wonder they were so elusive. "Have they ever been linked to anything violent before now?"

[dci-daisy-blog]

bigassmoody‌:

“Not yet, told Dewen you were getting something from the other precinct. I give Dewen another…” He makes a show of checking his watch, ”Fifteen minutes before he calls you to check. Pacing the front door right now, holdin’ a pile of paperwork taller than his head,” he replies with a small quirk of his lips, half because if he doens’t find amusement among the everyday of this investigation, he’ll end up jumping off the side of this building.

“How many of those you work through already?” The cigarette smoke is all he can smell and it’s funny by now, how he’s just associated it with stress and cracks in Daisy’s calm demeanor. “You’re lucky they’re all dumbasses down there, otherwise they’d be able to follow your rank all the way up here.”  

He joins her at the edge of the roof, peering over at all the cars that have barely left the office for the last few days (John’s Camry is crooked, because of course it is). “I haven’t got word on it yet, Emma’s ready to kill me anytime I go near the lab.” He offers up a little shrug before finding a small rock to nudge over the edge with his foot, he strains to hear if it makes a noise when it reaches the bottom, but it clanks into some bushes. “The kid’s dead, it just means we can focus on one thing now instead of trying to find him and the kidnapper– killer.”

"I'm allowed a bloody lunch break, you know," Daisy responded with a sigh. Of course her team would be looking for her. They'd been chosen for their merits, but sometimes they were like a little flock of headless sheep.

She shrugged at Moody's question. "On my break or in total? That could be opening a barrel of worms, Moods." She tactfully avoided the question. Too many was the answer, but she was stressed, and God help anyone that got in her way if she didn't have nicotine and coffee. She responded to his remark about the smell with a humourless chuckle and a quick 'bugger off', that she trusted Alastor to interpret in the manner it was intended. Daisy didn't want him to leave, she realized.

"Sit down," she said, quieter this time. "I need to talk to you about something." Daisy wasn't exactly a soft and cuddly person. She was blunt bordering on abrasive, so it must have been strange for Alastor to see her like this. She looked over at him, quiet sincerity in her face and her voice. "Look me in the eye and tell me I can trust you. That you're my partner."

[sweetstcrling]

[  18.06.19 \ 11:15 AM | OPERATION AUROR HQ | @dci-daisy ]

She’d tried to have this – meeting – in her office. There were many practical reasons: it’d look better for the family, she’d have the advantage of home ground, it would be much easier to control the narrative, all came to mind as the town car pulled up to the detective’s headquarters. The driver pulled to a stop, jumping out just a little too late to open Bellatrix’s door. She was striding towards the doors, lips in a flat line by the time he reached her side. One heel clicked on the tiled floor – there had been many reasons why it made sense for Detective Daisy to come to her instead of vice versa but only one that mattered. 

Because that’s what Bellatrix Black wanted.

The Black didn’t take not getting their way very well. Bellatrix had been more than prepared to not give any pertinent information – this was hardly the first time she’d been questioned by authorities, and would likely not be the last. Since their first meeting (the fruitless search for Regulus seemed so far away now), the eldest Black had done a cursory search; she’d guessed as much that the detective had been a Slytherin. There was something about her eyes, that sort of underlying whir of cogs in machinery; being under gaze would have been more unsettling if Bella hadn’t gotten used to people trying to solve her puzzle.

She checks her emails while seated in the waiting room – Bellatrix had left work discreetly; the media was causing enough tension without her mother finding out she was being questioned. She hears the click of the door unlocking, eyes automatically flicking towards the source, settling on the sleek haired woman who opened it. Bellatrix stood, gathering herself to her full height, chin raised high. 

“Hello, Detective. Shall we begin?”

[dci-daisy-blog]

Daisy was used to entitled people. In many ways, she was one. It wasn't as if she'd been brought up immune to privilege, being the daughter of a well-respected judge, but the way these obscenely rich people seemed to operate baffled her. Meeting in her office. Bloody hell. Her cousin had been murdered, and Bellatrix Black was worried making her way to the police station was too *inconvenient*. That didn't necessarily make her a killer, but it was certainly interesting. The problem was that so many of Regulus' family and acquaintances belonged to that same bubble of privilege and entitlement.

Still, Daisy would reserve judgement. In her mind, a good detective didn't jump to conclusions. They made deliberations based on evidence, and were willing to changing their opinions when more evidence became available. She loathed the lazy police work that came up with a suspect first and then twisted all the evidence until it fit.

"Ms Black," Daisy greeted with a polite nod. She was good at reading people, and it struck her that Bellatrix wasn't the sort to be tricked by wide smiles and a non-threatening aura, and nor was she the type to bend to intimidation. A neutral approach was best. Polite, reasonable, but not overly friendly. "Thanks for coming. Sorry we couldn't do this at your office. We have strict protocols about how our interviews are monitored."

She ushered Bellatrix into the interview room and went through all the procedures about the recording equipment and reading Bellatrix her rights before starting the questioning. "Can you account for your whereabouts between 1am and 3am on Sunday 16th June?"

[dci-daisy-blog]

Whiskey & Whine || Daisy & Andromeda

[dci-daisy-blog]

ofandromedas‌:

Daisy’s trust is something that feels like a badge of honor. Andromeda has learned over the years that her friend’s sturdy walls rival her own, making it terribly ironic that they’d somehow forged a close friendship against all of the emotionally-disconnected odds. Neither of them trust easily. The brief warmth is replaced swiftly with concern, catching the edge to Daisy’s voice. Being closed-off can be exhausting, and if Daisy has been ruminating on something for a while she almost feels guilty for not reaching out to her friend first.

What Daisy says makes her freeze mid-chew for a millisecond, processing. A text. Andromeda hadn’t thought about her own anonymous text for ages, the mystery lost in the midst of recent developments. “So, someone who’s working against you. On the team,” she repeats to think aloud once she swallows her food with a gulp of wine. “Was it…like the text I’d gotten? From a disconnected, untraceable phone number? I wonder if it was the same person.” She sits back against the couch cushion, letting her upper body sink into it as she mulls it over. “Shit. You don’t know who they’d be talking about, do you?”

She already knew she was going to need more alcohol. Right now, she was drinking it like juice. She probably should have got a glass of water or something to slow her down, but it was a bit late for that now. “That’s exactly what it sounded like,” she sighed. 

“You got one too?” Daisy looked up, eyes widening as she met Andromeda’s. She scrambled for her phone, disturbing Jake who had curled up around it on the couch as if it was a pillow. “Here. Here’s mine. Let’s compare.” God, it felt so good to actually be able to talk to someone. At least she knew Andromeda wasn’t the bloody mole, which was more than she could say for anyone else she’d talked to. “I haven’t a clue. I’m always so certain about everything and now I can’t believe anything my team says to me, and I can’t let them know that.”

[ofandromedas-blog]

— 16th of june. 4:10 AM. st. mungo’s car park. @dci-daisy

Shellshocked. It was how, if asked later, Andromeda could have described her state of mind after the initial horror of discovering her cousin’s bloodied corpse on the ground of the St. Mungo’s parking lot. Her scream had alerted a few others in earshot (and eventually hospital security), but it was Andromeda herself who had numbly dialed for emergency services to arrive at the scene. Andromeda who had checked for a pulse, remained by his body, and stood at his side and waited for police to arrive. By the time police had arrived she’d informally determined by sight alone that he’d been shot in the chest, the bullet clipping the heart and likely still lodged somewhere in the body. Based on the the appearance of the wound it seemed that he’d been shot within the past few hours, though she couldn’t be positive.

It was tonight, for the first time, that Andromeda despised her chosen career path. It didn’t matter that the lifeless corpse on the ground in front of her was a face she’d recognized. She’d first held Regulus at 12 years old, a newborn with a shock of dark hair and eyes that seemed to know more than any infant should. Those same eyes were glassy now, lifelessly fixed on the ceiling of the car park. The dead teen in front of her was one she’d known since before he could walk. And yet she couldn’t switch it off. When Andromeda looked at him she saw her cousin, but she also saw the telling details of a gruesome murder she wished she could forget. 

By the time police arrived Andromeda had experienced the weight of her responsibility in his death a thousand times over. She remained composed as she allowed police to pull her from the scene and decorate the lot with bright police tape. Thankfully, she held it together through answering questions and identifying the body and being told she needed to remain at the scene while police sorted out details. It was without reservation that she defied what she’d been instructed and began reaching out to immediate family once police had left her unattended off to the side, finally managing to get a hold of her youngest sister first and then eventually wishing she hadn’t. By the time Andromeda pocketed her phone she was accompanied by a new sense of despair and pain, this time more difficult to smother.

“Daisy,” she says, only realizing she’d said it aloud a few seconds after the words had already left her lips. Her best friend was approaching her from across the garage, ducking under police tape and looking clenched. 

[dci-daisy-blog]

It was the worst possible outcome, the call nobody wants to get and that everyone had feared for days. Every hour that passed since Regulus' disappearance had been bringing them closer and closer to this possibility, and now it was here. They'd found the body. Not just anyone had found it either, but it had been left outside Andromeda's work for her to stumble upon like some sick joke. This wasn't about a ransom. This wasn't about money. This was personal. Daisy was good at keeping her emotions under control, but this made her really fucking angry.

"DCI Hookum, Operation Auror," she said, flashing her badge to the uniformed officers who'd secured the scene. "Where's the witness?" She was stern, but she kept her emotions bubbling beneath the surface. She didn't have the privilege of being white and male, arriving on a scene and throwing a temper tantrum. She had to work harder than that. When they pointed her in Andromeda's direction, Daisy gave a nod, walking towards her with a purpose.

"I'm not allowed to hug you, so just pretend I am, okay?" There were eyes everywhere, and although her friendship with Andromeda wasn't a secret, although it wouldn't be difficult for anyone to find the pictures of them together on facebook or instagram, she wanted to avoid the appearance of bias as much as possible. "Go slow. Tell me what happened. Did you touch him when you found him? You were in shock. It's okay if you did."

[dci-daisy-blog]

The Quibbler headquarters looked like those listicles you saw about 'coolest offices' except on a smaller scale. The building was a former tobacco factory, and while the shell of the warehouse style building remained, everything inside was a hipster's wet dream. Natural light, modern furnishings, funky patterned wallpaper. There were reading nooks with cushioned floors and beanbag chairs, there was a gaming room with pool, an air hockey table and a couple of arcade machines, and some of the walls seemed to be made of leaves. Daisy deemed it utterly ridiculous, but then, she was also running on four hours' sleep.

You wouldn't know about her lack of sleep from looking at her. In spite of all the stress, the exhaustion, the irritation, Daisy was poised and sharp. When the assistant told Daisy she could go in, she thanked her with a nod, entering Ted Tonks' office with a muted smile. "Thank you for meeting with me," she said, extending her hand. "I'm DCI Daisy Hookum, London police." Of course, he knew who she was. That was how they'd arranged the meeting. But Daisy always thought it was best practice to introduce yourself and show your badge, even when the meeting was unofficial.

"My team and I are investigating the Order of the Phoenix. I understand you might have some information about them?"

@atted

[dci-daisy-blog]

The whole office was one collective headache for days. Daisy was rushed off her feet liaising between IT and detectives and forensics. She eyed every single person she came across with a secretly skeptical eye, wondering if each one of them might be the person who was stabbing her - and the team - in the back.

She’d barely had time for lunch, but she needed some time with her thoughts and some ‘fresh air’ before her headache turned into a full on migraine and her slightly grumpy attitude turned into a full-on warpath. She had been on the roof for about twenty minutes, had destroyed a chicken and salad wrap and was on her second cigarette by the time the door opened. She briefly glanced over her shoulder, but she didn’t really have to in order to know who it was.

“Don’t tell me the whole office has already gone to pot in the time I’ve been gone,” she sighed, rubbing her temple. “Any leads?” she asked. “Is the autopsy report back yet?” Daisy was usually good at separating work from her personal life, mostly because she didn’t have that much of a personal life, but knowing this poor teenager, her friend’s cousin, was dead and the murderer was still out there was more than she could handle. They needed to find the person responsible, and they had to do it quickly. 

@bigassmoody

[dci-daisy-blog]

Whiskey & Whine || Daisy & Andromeda

[dci-daisy-blog]

ofandromedas‌:

It’s both validating and troubling to hear Daisy - a trained professional - echo her concern about the situation escalating so quickly. What her friend leaves unsaid settles over her unpleasantly, weighing somberly on her shoulders and mind. What could come next? She had never put her own safety into question, thinking it’s silly when she’s got a sensible head on her shoulders, but would something like this put targets on everyone’s backs? Would the Order jump to homicide to prove a point? 

She swallows another drink of wine, then begins to gather together a forkful of chicken, glad that eating has given her hands something to do. What Daisy says next stills the utensil in her hand. They talk so little about their work, which seems odd considering being successful women in chosen careers is the most glaring commonality between the pair; somehow, it’s always worked for the better. Daisy was a friend whom pulled her back to real life when the hospital threatened to bleed across Andromeda’s entire existence. But this situation is seemingly an exception. Her eyes study Daisy’s. “Of course, anything you say is between us. I swear it. But I don’t want to get you into trouble, either, if it’s about the case.” Her final statement almost makes Andromeda wince. Truthfully, she wants more than anything to know what’s really happening behind the doors of the police station. But integrity forbids her desperation from showing, pushes her to give Daisy an exit.  “Don’t feel like you have to.”

Of course she was going to tell her. She wasn't going to start something without finishing it. Her stubbornness would stop her even if her need for someone to talk to hadn't been making her want to explode. "Darling, I'm a complete bloody cynic, but I trust you, okay? If I don't find someone to talk to about this I'm gonna lose my flippin' mind."

She took another swig of wine. She'd already demolished half a plate of chicken and mushroom chow mein and showed no signs of stopping. "It's not about the case." She put down her wine glass, letting out a tired sigh. The last weeks had been exhausting. It was only now that she'd sat down to actually talk to a friend that Daisy felt it all catching up with her. "Around the time Regulus disappeared, I got an anonymous text message. It said there was a mole in my team. No... no, a snake. It said to be careful."

[dci-daisy-blog]

Whiskey & Whine || Daisy & Andromeda

[dci-daisy-blog]

ofandromedas‌:

“Understood,” Andromeda dismisses with the flick of a hand. Truthfully, she hasn’t been eating regular meals over the past forty-eight hours, and she herself hadn’t realized just how hungry she was until the warm scent of takeaway filled Daisy’s living room. Noticing a bottle-opener on Daisy’s end table (with some amusement), she uses it to open the bottle of wine she’s brought. By the time her friend returns from the kitchen, there’s an entire spread of food on the coffee table waiting. “I might have gone a bit overboard,” she admits, “but I didn’t know I was starving until I got there and figured you’d be too.” She decides to pour the wine first as Daisy piles food onto her plate, scooting a full glass across the table and taking a drink from her own. 

“Really? That’s a big deal, right?” she asks, truthfully curious. What little she knows about police politics is from Daisy’s or Alastor’s side comments, but it sounds like an upgrade, boosting a missing-persons case to something like terrorism. Once Andromeda’s plate is full she sets her glass aside and re-settles back into the couch, taking time to mull over a response as she chews her first bite. “I don’t know much about the Order,” she admits honestly. “I mean, beyond that they’ve caused some trouble before. I’m not always good at keeping up on the news.” But Andromeda wants to offer a better answer than that, and adds, “It seems extreme, though. To kidnap a kid and take him hostage? You’d think they’d at least target someone more…deserving to get back for something someone’s done. Not that I’m particularly close with Reg, but I’d guess other people have pissed off an anti-establishment activism group more than he  has. Unless…it’s about just proving that they can than it is about vengeance.” Her eyes flicker briefly to her best friend. "Do you think the Order might not have done this?”

Ideally, they shouldn't have been talking about this. Daisy was usually pretty by the book. It was Moody who acted out without thinking. Daisy was the rational one, the sensible one. Until that damn message saying there was a mole on her team. Rationale seemed to have been replaced by paranoia since then. She had to act normal while second-guessing everything around her. It was bloody exhausting, so bollocks to it. She was going to talk to her friend.

"Yeah, probably 'cause of all the public attention on the case. The Order are... hm, how do I put it? They're pains in the arse, but this kind of escalation so fast... kidnapping's a big step up from social media activism and graffiti." Daisy took a large gulp of her wine, shaking her head. She wasn't even tipsy yet, but she was still being more honest than she should have. It was a relief to actually be able to talk to someone. "I don't know, Andy. All I'm saying is it's a really big escalation. And that worries me." Because if they escalated from vandalism to kidnapping, how long would it be before they escalated to murder? They needed to get this boy home.

"There's something else," she added, almost hesitant, and anyone who knew Daisy knew that she was rarely ever hesitant. She said her words with a confidence bordering on bluntness. "But it has to stay between us. A hundred per cent."

[dci-daisy-blog]

Whiskey & Whine || Daisy & Andromeda

[dci-daisy-blog]

ofandromedas‌:

Andromeda’s barometer of exhaustion is more resilient than most. But as she leaves the the hospital and makes her way down the sidewalk to the bus stop, thumbs typing a quick text to Lucius, she realizes she’s tired. Still, the thought of heading back to her flat only to read an anonymous meaningless text message to death or scroll through the news (likely seeing her own photograph behind a podium) almost makes Andromeda queasy. When Daisy’s name flashes across her screen, the relief is instant. Daisy is perhaps the most reliable third-party outlet she has to vent about the current state of affair, or at least the closest thing to it. Her involvement in the case is obvious given that she works alongside Alastor. In fact, Andromeda muses, they rarely talk about their work when they’re together unless it’s to vent about something irrelevant. She has a feeling that evening might be an exception.

As promised, Andromeda makes a few stops and shows up at Daisy’s door almost exactly 20 minutes later, a bag of wine and whiskey in one hand and takeaway in the other. She shoulders the door open and makes her way in. Daisy’s enthusiasm is obvious as she slings an arm briefly around her shoulder, Andromeda’s lips quirking upward into a smile. “Like I said. You’re telling me,” she groans, crossing Daisy’s threshold into the living room and setting the bags on the coffee table. “I’m just glad to have an excuse to do something besides scrolling through FlooNet or BBC for hours.” She lets herself sink into the other side of Daisy’s sofa, slipping off her shoes. “Nothing particularly useful, no. I don’t know, I think they try not to tell the family too much unless it’s important and it’s totally valid given how dysfunctional mine is, but it still sucks.” Reaching forward, she begins to empty the contents of the takeaway bag onto the table so they can start helping themselves. “For the record, I’m not including you in the ‘they’. Nothing personal. This whole ransom thing is just…a mess. Well, I’m sure you know that better than anyone.”

The last few days had seemed to both be a blur and drag on for an eternity. Missing Persons and ransom cases were bad enough when the people involved weren't both public figures and related to your best friend. She'd already downed half a beer (okay, one and a half) by the time Andromeda got there. "You might be a sight for sore eyes," she repeated with a snicker, "but you're a slight second to the smell of Chinese food. Sorry love."

She gave Andromeda a little grin. Half-hearted, probably not enough to act as any kind of decent distraction for either of them, but at least she was trying, right? "I'll get us some plates." She disappeared into the kitchen for a couple of seconds and came back with plates, cutlery and a couple of wine glasses. She gave a small, humorless snicker at Andromeda's words.

"There's talk of passing the Order investigation over to counter-terrorism. I told them I wasn't going to let a few snotty-nosed little shits get the better of me." She started divvying up the Chinese food, devouring her first few bites of chicken fried rice. "What do you reckon?" She'd heard enough from other cops. Might make a change to hear something from a friend. "Up 'til now I wouldn't have thought they'd be capable of something like this."  

[dci-daisy-blog]

vanityemmas‌:

Had Emma been emotionally stable enough to respond with wit, she likely would have made some sarcastic comment about how she was honored to be promoted to detective, but her heart belonged in the confines of her lab and all the wonderfully broken shit that existed within its walls. But frustration had gotten the better of her, as it always had, and instead she looked upon her boss all huffy rather than even giving a smart retort. “Nope,” was all she answered, arms folded over her chest. She didn’t regret the words that left her mouth on most days, for they were accurate representations of how she felt, and Emma had grown up learning to never let someone try and make you ashamed of your feelings or stifle them. It was perhaps the only good lesson her mother ever taught her, as extremely misguided as it was in practice. 

Truthfully, Emma respected Daisy. She was a woman who didn’t take shit and instead took charge, her presence able to undeniably command a room with a harsh stare and leading voice. Usually, she clashed with those who possessed a harshness similar to her own (explaining much of the tension she held with Bellatrix), but this was a dynamic Emma grew to respect, especially because of the work environment they found themselves in. Daisy made Emma want to be  a better person. Tom Riddle made it so that she couldn’t be one.

A sigh left her lips as she began to follow the instructions Daisy wrote out for her. “About what?” Emma asked before turning her eyes to the file beside the computer for a brief moment. Obviously, she chastised herself. “Regulus Black? Not much on my end, without any physical evidence to analyze just yet.” That wasn’t entirely true, but Emma wasn’t sure if it was necessary to state that she’d grown up with the Blacks. It surely would have brought forth some questions about bias, and she wished to spare herself that headache, especially when she didn’t even actually know Regulus, having fallen from grace before the kid could properly count. “Have you heard anything beyond what’s published in the file?”

Daisy wasn't what you'd call a patient person, but she was good at pretending when it suited her. Sometimes you needed to catch a fly with honey rather than vinegar. Some people responded to stern, some people responded to soft. Daisy hated the latter, but she did what she had to in order to get the performance she needed out of her team. It wasn't the first, or even tenth time she'd had words with Emma about her temper. It wouldn't be the last. "I know you're frustrated," Daisy whispered through clenched teeth, not wanting them to be overheard. "But next time you want to shout in my direction, at least have the decency to come into my office first." She was frustrated too, but she didn't have the luxury of having a meltdown in the middle of the office.

And then, just like that, she was right down to business. About what. Bloody hell, it was a good thing Emma was so clever. Sometimes she didn't have an ounce of common sense or awareness of her surroundings. But then, maybe Daisy was just in a bad mood. She did her best not to take it out on her team, but it wasn't easy when she knew one of them was stabbing her and her operation in the back. "No evidence from the potential crime scenes?" Of course not. Why would there be? If you were gutsy enough to go after the only remaining heir of the House of Black, you weren't stupid enough to leave evidence, but then again, sometimes people's idiocy surprised even Daisy.

"He's a millennial. I'm betting he was doing everything on apps and his phone. IT are trying to trace and access his devices, but you know teenagers. They don't exactly share their passwords with their parents." Daisy knew the odds. The longer someone was missing, the less likely they were to be found.

[dci-daisy-blog]

Whiskey & Whine || Daisy & Andromeda

She couldn't talk to anyone in the office. Maybe Moody, but there was still a chance (however small) that he was the mole. At least she had Andromeda. Daisy could always rely on her to pop round for drinks and banter. She had a feeling though that tonight's conversation would be rather heavier than their usual games of shag, marry, kill.

Daisy had already poured a drink when the buzzer went off. She got up to answer it, tumbler of whiskey still in hand. "Come in," she said into the receiver, buzzing Andromeda inside. She wasn't a particularly huggy person, but she couldn't help but wrap an arm around Andy's shoulder when she came inside with a bag of Chinese food and even more alcohol. "Bloody hell, you're a sight for sore eyes. It's been a shit day." Though it had to have been worse for Andromeda. Regulus was her cousin, after all.

She led Daisy into the living room, ushering Jake away with a few soft clicks of her tongue and a wave of her hand as he sniffed at the bag. "No darling, not for you." She tossed him a few treats and one of his catnip toys to distract him, taking a seat on the sofa and starting to unload the bag. "I don't even know where to start. Have you heard anything yet?"

@ofandromedas