Re: Trailer Park: Brett T & Cris M
Brett eyed him slowly up and down, taking in the typical stance. Brett knew better than to be cowed by it. He'd learned the act himself, after all. He knew that for what it was - an act. Body language, shouting loudly that you wanted to do what this guy asked of you. Telegraphing the subtle threats so they didn't have to be said and to keep the cop safe. Brett knew it, knew the benefits of it, didn't blame the guy for it, but wasn't going to react to it. If fact, he subtly shifted, mirroring the position, though he kept his hand on the doorframe, the other in the waist of his worn jeans, still dirty from the day's work.
"No trouble here, Sheriff. Seems like a big ole waste of your time." He considered leaving it at that, sending the man on his way, but there had been the disturbance earlier. Maybe there had been something wrong. Brett didn't intend to get involved, but it wouldn't be right to lie, just to let things go.
He shook his head. "There was something, earlier. Didn't see anything. I was inside. Blinds are closed. Didn't go look," he said, looking out along the length of his trailer. The window to his living area could be seen from the small porch, closed off by greying-white plastic interior blinds. Not pretty, but as serviceable as the rest and meant the interior couldn't be seen at all. Brett liked his privacy.