@espritdxcorps
Field Autopsy done by: Kim Kitsuragi Assistant: Harrier Du Bois Coroner’s case no.: KK62-4578.7411 - Correction: KK62-4588.7412 Name of victim: Karina Louiz Louis Age: 32 - Correction: 33 Race: Mondial Sex: Female Date of death: 03.0---- Evidence of tr---
A set of gloved fingers, holding onto a blue ballpoint pen, which is decorated with a series of dental impresisons bitten into the plastic casing, slowly reduce the pressure they apply to the mentioned object. The smooth surface of the pen slips along the worn, but well cared for leather, a fraction of a milimeter at a time stretched over a couple of minutes - until the sound of said pen clattering against the Lieutenant’s desk fills the room.
It bounces off of the wood before stilling its motions, then starts to roll along the table - telling that either said table or the whole room isn’t perfectly level. It goes slow at first, picking up a bit of speed (and a few specks of dust) in the process as it continues its journey, missing a stack of file reports and a blue notebook before it slides over to the other desk put right against Kitsuragi’s own.
It still doesn’t stop there - continues to roll along, like it does not care for anything in the world at all, on a quest to reach a yet unknown destination. The back of the ballpoint pen scratches along a single sheet of paper, but isn’t impressed by that change of event at all, just moves further...
Until it - finally - collides with an empty mug that does not belong to the Lieutenant. In fact, it belongs to his new partner, the man he’s met in Martinaise a few weeks ago, Harrier Du Bois - and the touch of plastic against ceramic causes a soft ‘ding’ to cut through the silence, like a bell ringing, so faint but oh-so-loud against the quietness that had surrounded the two men like a thick blanket.
It is only then that Kim seems to snap out of his trance - blinking, realizing that he’s stared at the pen like an idiot instead of catching and stopping it from all the things it had done to begin with. It’s very unlike him, in many aspects, and it causes a pang of awkwardness to punch him right in the stomach as he quickly reaches out, stretching his arm across his desk toward Harry’s own, wraps his slender, long fingers back around the ballpoint pen before picking it up, accompanied by a soft “Khm.” that manages to escape his throat.
He clicks it twice - click-click - before shifting a bit in his seat, focusing his attention back onto the paper in front of him, only interrupted by his dark eyes glancing up for a moment to peek at his colleague. They’re gone almost immediately, though, when he realizes that a set of bright, green irises is looking back at him, and gaze back down at the soup of numbers and letters that spreads out in front of the Lieutenant.
... Not a literal soup, of course, but it feels very much like it could be. This report is the eighth he’s worked on today, consisting of approximately 5 pages in total, and his brain is getting tired from all the information he has to scribble down over and over again. He can tell how unfocused he is - he’s crossed out much more words than usual, corrected himself a few times, and a familiar sting keeps bugging his eyes, causing his free hand to move up, digits sliding beneath his glasses as he rubs the pads of his thumb and forefinger over his closed eyelids.
Kitsuragi craves fresh air - he also craves his cigarette, the scent and taste of tobacco. It’s been a long day, and they technically still have a whole hour to go until their shift will be over...
He can hear one of their colleagues stepping along the hallway outside of their shared office - Judit, he realizes, as soon as he hears her voice echoing through the Precinct: “I’m out for today! See you tomorrow.”
He envys her. For once, the workaholic of Precinct 57, who has transferred over to the 41st two weeks ago, is actually suffering through his paperwork instead of being his perfect self who works overtime whenever needed. It’s a rare occasion, and he refuses to admit it openly... But he allows himself to sigh - slowly, deeply, causing slim shoulders to lift with the force of the action before they sink down onto a more comfortable but nonetheless tense position.
