"How is your brother?" for Lyrian uvu
You sit at your desk, neatly filling out the paperwork for the case. You don’t particularly care for your new coworkers, and they don’t care for you. You’ve taken a corner desk in the office, as sequestered as you can be from the roil of emotions that travel through the precinct.
“Yo, Aubade,” one of the other legislacerators says sliding onto your desk and jostling your paperwork. You glance up at her irritated, narrowing your eyes. She smiles at you but she’s blaring with irritation. You can’t remember who she is- a glance at her name tag tells you it’s Officer Numiri. You think you might have had a few words with her partner earlier. You think you’ve seen them together.
“If this is about your partner’s incompetence,” you say testily. “Take it up with the training sergeant.”
Numiri keeps the smile on her face but her melody flares up in enough anger that you know you’ve hit your mark.
“Just a word of advice, newbie,” she says, “You might have been the big fish in your little pond, but it’d do you good to tread a little lighter.”
She’s not going to leave, and technically you don’t have the authority to make her, so you sigh. Her melody’s buzzing with anger, yes, but if you listen closely you can hear tones of protectiveness, and jealousy. You make your best guess. “I won’t intrude any more on your little pet project,” you say, listening. She modulates to suspicion. That was true. “You’ve got a thing for your partner, anyone can see it.” Derision. You’re wrong. “You’re the powerhouse of your partnership- you get all the credit, all the glory–” the merest tinge of fear- “so long as your partner’s dependent on you.”
The precinct’s fallen silent, looking at you, and you glance around until you see the partner you chewed out earlier. He stands out from the crowd- his fear is not anticipatory dread, but genuine fear for another person at your mercy. He’s genuinely, anxiously, attached to her, in a very red way, that she doesn’t return at all.
“You’re grooming him,” you murmur, so only Numiri can hear. “Aren’t you? You don’t have any quad jewelry, and you’re old enough that it’s almost drone day for you. Sure you might be a little attached to him, he’s yours after all, but he’s just a means to an end.” Anger crashes like cymbals and you grab her wrist before she can slap you.
“How’s your brother doing?” she snarls back in your face and you see purple. You’re a full three castes higher than her, and when you tighten your grip, you can feel her wrist bones grind together. Anger modifies immediately to fear again, and she tries to yank away her arm, but you hold it fast. You pull her closer in, off balance, and make sure she looks you in the eye.
“You’re outclassed,” you murmur. “Quit while you’re ahead, or you’ll live to regret it.”
You hold her there for another moment until her fear settles into a reluctant surrender, and let her go. She backs away, rubbing her wrist, her melody still bouncing around from indecision, but you’ve already turned back to your desk.
You have better things to do than indulge in office drama.
