fromage?

brian cassidy. fifty. detective, narcotics unit, transferred in from manhattan svu. We survived. You and I. And those who survive have a duty. Our duty is to do our best to keep on living. Even if our lives are not perfect.

[vxlixnce-deactivated20230103]

“If you’re here to remind me that I have yet to go home, trust me: I know.” Was all that Olivia stated on her way back to her desk after making her umpteenth trip to the precinct’s coffee machine. She could get overzealous over cases from time to time, and it wasn’t unlike her to see the sun set and rise in the same shift. Still, she could probably use a distraction right now, even if she wasn’t acting like she could, because her eyes were starting to burn, and the words cluttering the case file documents that were splayed across her desk were getting harder and harder to read. So she didn’t entirely push away whoever she had felt gazing at her as she sunk down into her seat with a heavy sigh. For now, anyways.

[protction]

a soft glance in her direction; he wouldn't doubt if she hadn't been out of the precinct to see the light of day since the day before. came in yesterday, pulled a double, slept in the back. and now it was almost midnight. one hand came up to rub at his jaw, pulling lips, cheeks away from the bone, searching for words. she wasn't even seeing him, and here he was, standing right in front of her.   ❛   actually, i came to check on you, liv. you missed our   --   ❜   date wouldn't be an appropriate word. as much as he might wish that it was.   ❛   we were supposed to go get dinner tonight. you stood me up.   ❜   it was meant lightly; he tried to smile and show it was only a joke, but it was hard to joke when he was constantly reminded that her work would always come before everything else in her life.

[svuincorrect]

Olivia: when you’ve reached rock bottom there’s nowhere to go but up

Cassidy: you underestimate me. I have a shovel and am prepared to dig

[cinemadeco-deactivated20241209]

[protction]

intiilect‌:

hank was cocky about his unit, their skills and his choices on what to do during a case ( no matter how hard it was ). the one brian was working on - well, it was the exact type of case that hank knew would take a little more push than anything else. when he transferred from chicago, it took a bit longer for some cops to get used to how he ran things. when they realized he could help, all they could do was let it happen. what was with these cops and their dying need to brood over a bar tab? hank began to shake his head, body slipping onto the bar stool beside cassidy. “heard you might need a little help,” he husked with a quick and easy smile. 

upon hear the other man, this stranger's, words, immediately, it felt as though someone had flipped a switch within him, activated an intense fight or flight response that was only deepened by the copious amounts of alcohol he had consumed.   ❛   listen pal,   ❜   he began, voice too aggressive, too loud, as he slammed his glass to the bar top; what little was left of the whiskey violently sloshing around and out the rim,   ❛   i don't know what the fuck you think you heard or who the fuck you think you are, but i don't need any goddamn help.   ❜   his brow was knit together impossibly tight, face crumpled and distorted into hideous shapes only unmitigated animosity can bring out in people. what could he say? his short fuse was always one of his worst qualities, bar none.

[protction]

bclligerings‌:

—— 𝙽𝙰𝙳𝙸𝙽𝙴 𝙵𝙴𝙻𝚃 𝙰 𝚂𝙼𝙸𝙻𝙴 𝚃𝚄𝙶 at the corner of her lips as she came across the familiar face. yeah, she was feeling it too. everyone in the department felt the weight of the whole ordeal practically pushing their shoulders below water.  ❝  i thought i’d find you here.. ❞ she muttered, slumping down next to him in a similar manner. after a moment, she leaned against the bar with her chin in the palm of her hand.  ❝ eh, i owe you one anyway. ❞ she examined what was in the cup. of course it was whiskey, she should have known. ❝ get another one for the gentleman and for me.. ah shit, whiskey too. ❞

an involuntary scoff bubbled in his chest and pushed past his lips, nearly choking him on the next swallow of whiskey.   ❛   gentleman. that's a good one, nads.   ❜   at her admittedly very welcome presence, though, the tension in his shoulders slumped ever so slightly. throwing an afflicted glance her way, brian finished off the last of his glass before wiping off his mouth with the back of one aged, veiny hand. a quiet thanks to the bartender for the new drinks as glass hit wood at his fingertips, one two.   ❛   so you just come lookin' for me or you need a drink too, after all the bullshit today?   ❜

[protction]

the case was huge; city-wide. that meant the fallout was even bigger. when it tanked, the blame wasn’t laid squarely on his shoulders   (   this time   )   but it would have been nearly impossible to not feel guilty, not take the weight of a loss felt solidly by his whole unit. so, in a fashion very true to form, brian cassidy was now sitting at the local tavern, drowning his woes in cheap whiskey. his vision was starting to go fuzzy and bright around the edges when he saw someone sit at bar beside him, and then felt eyes on him. with a sigh, he took another deep sip from his glass, swallowed hard, and then addressed whoever it was. barely.   ❛   unless you’re buying, i don’t want to hear it.   ❜

[fxll3ncr0wns]

Jay picked up a mug and poured some coffee into it. He took a sip from it and let out a sigh. “Good to know coffee’s just as shitty in New York as it is in Chicago.” He sipped his drink again and smiled through a grimace. “Tastes like home.” 

[protction]

❛   don’t think anyone ever said coffee’s supposed to taste good,   ❜   brian quips back with a sip of his own styrofoam cup, surveying the bodega around them idly,   ❛   it just does its job. doesn’t have to be any more than that.   ❜   coffee and booze; the two ugly hard-workers of the beverage world. one for before work and one for after.

[funkymysteriies]

“ the defense can try and stall this trial all they want , i’ve got enough to put this prick away for a long time , and buchanan’s argument doesn’t have a leg to stand on. he knows it , i know it , even the judge knows it , so if this — hold on a second. ” alex’s telephonic tirade is interrupted by a knock on the door. “ i’ll call you back , ” she says , not bothering to wait for her interlocutor’s response before hanging up. “ come in , ” she says it with a sigh. “ i told luci i didn’t want to be disturbed , so what’s so urgent ? ”

[protction]

he leans against the door frame, scuffing his shoes against each other somewhat awkwardly.   ❛   good to see you too, alex,   ❜   he grumbles, hands shoved deep into his pockets. with a sigh of his own, he squints and takes another moment, licking chapped lips, before meeting her impatient gaze.   ❛   got a guy down in lockup for possession, intent to distribute. they sent me over to talk to you about an old conviction for prior bad acts, public indecency. case file with the trial transcripts and everything, not just the arrest.   ❜

[likecaskets]

“if this is about yesterday’s case, save your breath.” try as rafael might to prepare for any eventuality, being an assistant district attorney sometimes meant being dealt losses. picky juries, too much reasonable doubt… the list went on and rafael didn’t really like to dwell on mistakes with other people.  “i’ve moved on, so should you.” he stops walking, turning to the person who’s been following his hurried pace around the courthouse. “is that… all?”

[protction]

❛   oh, i’m sorry,   ❜   he starts, taking the facetious, indignant tone of someone who is definitely not at all sorry, and, if he has ever felt apologetic in this lifetime, it’s certainly not an emotion he can recall at present or get any solid grasp on,   ❛   did you think i was coming to apologize to you?   ❜   a scoff and a juvenile roll of the eyes.   ❛   i’ll tell you again today the same thing i said yesterday, though, since you asked: i did up there what i thought was right, and if you have a problem with it, maybe next time you should spend a little more time preparing for the trial and a little less time matching your tie to your socks.   ❜   the unspoken this is who i am, get used to it or fuck off hangs in the air around them. he’s never been good at trial; in his mind, this is what they get for continuing to put him on the stand. somehow, the complexities of the legal system still seem to escape him after all these years. 

his reason for stopping barba in the first place is somehow forgotten now, in all of this.