there’s a pause. his eyes remain locked onto hand in front of him, its palm outwards and open, a silver key placed on it as the officer holds it out to him. if he’s being honest, graham has taken him off guard. he was expecting, when graham had asked him to take a walk and get a cup of steaming coffee with him after just doing it yesterday, that the man had found out about his little pickpocketing fun the other day ; he’d been bracing himself for another lecture.
so now, peter is quite at a loss of what to do - he knows what the key is for, its labeled with an apartment number he has memorized by now; but the thought of using the door has never occured to him. ( he far more is used to breaking in the window ).
“i thought cops weren’t supposed to harbor trouble makers,” he manages to quip, after a moment. trying to point out that he doesn’t need a hand out, or pity, if that is what this is.
Deeply Graham sighed, hand still outstretched towards the boy. He almost rolled his eyes, but swayed his head instead. “Take it.” He motioned his hand closer to Peter to emphasise his words. “Look — it’s better that you have a key and I have a busted window.” A light scoff (or was it more of a chuckle?) slipped past the Cop’s lips to round off his words.
It wasn’t really a laughing matter — but had Graham said more, said what he really wanted to say, he knew that Peter wouldn’t even contemplate taking the key, which still sat in his palm. ‘I’m worried about you’, yeah, like the boy’d want to hear that. Graham just wanted to make sure Peter had somewhere safe to go.
Countenance stern as he spoke, but eyes held that particular gentleness. “You know you’re welcome to stay anytime — so my door is aways open for you.” Brows furrowed just slightly and he quickly bowed his head, “Unlike the window.”
“Just take it. Whether you use it or not, is up to you.”
