@realityrot
“Dammit, Hopper...”
Just when she thought she’d found it all, that there couldn’t possibly be one more thing hidden in all the nooks and crannies of what used to be Hopper’s office, there was still one more thing to find. One more mini bottle of whiskey or sometimes bourbon (when did he drink bourbon?), like the kind you get from a hotel mini fridge, or one more pack of cigarettes, crumpled up with only two or three left, the occasional lighter. None of it was real incriminating, at least not to anyone that had known Hopper. But there was a new guy coming in and the idea that some stranger might judge the former Chief based on what he’d left behind made her sick to her stomach. Hopper had gotten enough talk behind his back, enough assumptions and enough of a foul reputation when he was ali- when he was still there. He didn’t need it now that he was gone, now that half of Hawkins believed him to be a hero. He was a hero.
Joyce was crouched down under the desk, crawled up underneath it to wrestle half a pack of smokes from a gap in the woodwork when she heard the office door open. She opened her mouth, about to let whoever it was know that she needed another five minutes to finish up but the voice she heard carrying on a conversation with someone still outside was not one she recognized. Shit. She scrambled out from under the desk, tossed the half pack of smokes in with the rest of the contraband in a box on the desk, and tossed one of Hopper’s spare shirts over the whole thing. She managed to run her fingers through her hair to tame it somewhat before and catch her breath before the new Chief of Hawkins broke off his conversation to see her standing behind the desk that was now his.
“Er, hi. Sorry, I was just packing up the last of his- of Hopper’s, the last Chief... his things. He left a few... things... but I’m all packed up here and I’ll just be out of your way.”