@gdmonster ♚ continued from x.
He tries to be courteous in these instances, even if he’s normally not so polite. A sense of distrust always follows him; a product of his environment and parts of his upbringing, too. The welcome, in a way, leaves a bitter taste in his mouth due to the things he’s heard and the reason he got here. Is he really welcome, with his chaotic record and an attitude that, he’s sure, she’s already heard of? That type of information always runs fast — the bad one, the negative one; the one that promises to tear you apart if you let it.
A hand goes to meet hers. He also decides to give a bow, not as pronounced but not as loose, either. Just one that shows sliver of gratitude as the smallest hint of a tight-lipped smile appears. It looks weird — he doesn’t really smile. However, that odd grin disappears as fast as it makes its appearance.
He’s glad she doesn’t seem so unfastened, either. Hyuk has been transferred to other places before (here and there, like a bouncing ball; his boss often insists on these things as to ‘calm him down’ and it seems they haven’t learned a thing – neither has he) and there’s been examples of loud and faux affability, you know, the type to welcome you with bold laughter and crinkled eyes as if wanting to disguise a condemned place as wonderland. He prefers this. The distance, the vague amiability that’s not freezing cold nor does it scald the tongue.
Oh Jihwa. He’s heard about her, too; did a small research before coming here. Divorced and with a brother also working in the force. Not that personal things matter – what matters is that he read she’s very good at what she does; handling cases with a grace that earned her the title she has now. Answering to a competent Team Leader is good. He just hopes something crooked is not hiding amid all that good reputation.
He’s never been a Team Leader. Not officially, at least. Superiors have said he wouldn’t be a good one because of how gritty he is. You’ll never go up if you keep behaving like that, detective Lee. Yeah, yeah, yeah. He doesn’t care.
Eyes drift from Detective Oh to identify Kang Do-Soo. The…what did she say? One of the best men in the precinct? Uh-huh. We’ll see about that. He bows his head when taking note of him. It seems they have partners here, too. Not many things change, all things considered. Just the faces and the location.
He finally says when she also mentions Detective Kwak and Chief Jeong. He’s read about them, too. Especially about the latter. Weird vibes he got about this guy in particular; the type of hunch that you cannot blatantly ignore. He’ll keep that to himself.
Harsh glance is given in return when Detective Oh stares him down. Frown pressed on features; he lets hands slide in the pockets of his trousers. He’s not intimidated. Just uncomfortable.
“Yes, I did. I…left the box outside the door.”
Nothing much, really. Just his personal printer and some files; paper. Nothing personal, no trinkets that could reveal anything about him. The contents of his desk tend to be just like him — dry; dedicated to work only. His personal stuff he already left at one of the apartment rooms. It’s small, but it’ll do.
“Will I have a designated space? Or is it going to be shared with someone else? I don’t mind either way.”
“Do all detectives get assigned a partner? If so, I rather work by myself, if possible.”
A request he’d like to put on the table, whether he’s granted such a thing or not.
“Anything else I should know, Team Leader Detective Oh?”
The problem with Munju - and Manyang in particular, but this man here is no Han Joo-won, even though she’s already noting some similarities she’d rather not find and similarities she’d rather see - is that it seems to be one of those places that seems to attract people with boulders on their shoulders.
Or expressions and demeanour's as sour that she has to keep herself from grimacing in response to his smile. Nothing about their soon-to-be business relation would justify or condemn making faces into his as a good idea, but it was almost instinctual, quickly curbed as it turned out to be, keeping itself where she keeps most of herself when she meets someone she finds no reason extending free trust to.
It was like a knee-jerk reaction, as if everything about detective Lee Hyuk screams about a life played out in a completely different genre to that of most people.
She can’t quite put her finger to it, if it’s arrogance and or to many years spent on the job, or if this man had joined the force equipped with an air about himself that just keeps making Ji-hwa want to turn around and walk away.
She’d enjoyed the thrill of a man passionate to his very core and paid for it by wasting years of her life hoping this passion would never translated into bloodied footprints all over innocent corpses.
And she’s grown to be a stoic herself, facetious out of necessity and out of having organically developed into a woman who can throw on a cynical smile and deliver a few sarcastic lines, all to hide the anger shooting at high-speed through her veins, at having to interrogate and doubt some of her closest friends.
But be it the other end of the spectrum or her familiarity with his end, she’s lost the care, the patience, almost. She’s lost the second glances towards someone so guarded, towards that frown on his face and the way his hands disappear, as if he’s trying to keep as much of himself to himself, pulled tight and away from eyes and opinions.
She just hopes that this deadpan and direct nature - which, to be frank, she could even grow to appreciate, given the right circumstances, given he’s as competent as he is notorious, as she’s been told - won’t affect her precinct the way new standoffish faces tend to affect decade-long partnerships.
Like how she’d watched him glance at Kang Do-soo just now and tried not to narrow her eyes too much at the sudden surge of protectiveness she’d felt.
She’d like to extend him that benefit of the doubt, the same one, the one she hopes she’ll continue being justified in giving, because sometimes she’s right, sometimes it works out, sometimes a detective with a bad reputation might just be self-sabotaging and equipped with a better heart than he lets other people recognise.
If Lee Dong-sik is anything to go by.
She just hopes Lee Hyuk decides to be of the same category of notorious inspectors.
“Outside? Alright, let’s go get it, then,” and she’s already half-turning, headed into the direction he came from. She doubts he’d need help with a single box of desk-belongings, but, well, that benefit of the doubt, that knee-jerk of wanting to create companionship, some type of familiarity, this inability of Munju people to not at least try to include you, the-
She halts and, at his question, gestures to a spot at the desk facing the window on the opposite end of the room her spot is in. Two people would fit there, two blue screens face her, showing off the badge that unites them all under the same force, corrupt and honest alike.
“There’s a free spot, you’d have to share the desk if we had more people, but as of now, it’s just you, so you can pick either of the two and consider it your own.”
She wonders if he’s being honest about the ‘not minding either way’.
She wonders even more so when he follows the question up with a line she wishes she could say surprised her. Once again half-turned away, Ji-hwa pauses, the foundations of her intentions, of the attitude she’d wanted to deploy, crumble slightly, shake and moan a second, maybe two, while she brushes the pads of her fingers against her forehead.
Briefly, maybe gathering thoughts, maybe hoping she can start this off on a foot that isn’t yet another frown, yet more trouble.
“Yes. Especially considering recent events and the history of this place, which I’m sure you’re familiar with, I don’t feel comfortable knowing my officers out without a partner to back them up in case of necessity.”
Or provide them with an alibi.
She pauses. Her gaze travels, nowhere, in time maybe, before she blinks herself out of her mind and stares up at him again.
“For now, you’ll be with me. It’s not official, but... You’re my responsibility now,” frank, even though this isn’t what she’d had in mind, even though she doesn’t know why she continues making decisions she wishes she wouldn’t. And why they feel more authentic than others.
“So I’ll make sure you’re integrated well.”
A sigh, shoulders rise, shoulders fall.
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