Detective John Martin (crackshot_) wrote in notionsic, @ 2011-06-22 17:40:00 |
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Entry tags: | dylan davenport, john martin, june 2011 |
Who: John and Dylan
What: Looking out for one's partner
When: Monday June 20, early evening (day after this)
Where: Dylan's apartment
Rating: Medium - language
Status: Incomplete
The fact that John hadn't been available when his partner needed him Sunday night weighed on him from the moment he listened to the voicemails the following morning until Dylan failed to show up for work. It was to be expected that a hurting man would drink himself to oblivion without a more reasoned and levelheaded companion, but John the lead detective was disappointed. It would have been contradictory of him to expect the dismissal of personal matters during the dire investigation, but he still needed his partner's head set on straight. He was not in the mood to recommend Dylan be taken off the case when he'd already lost one detective due to promotion. Though after snapping some orders and collapsing at his desk, where he pinched the bridge of his nose and glanced at the calendar - two more days until the invasion - he managed to roll the frustration away. He would go see Dylan after work, assess him, pat his back, and try to encourage him. Getting ditched by someone you loved was rough - he could understand that, but even after half a decade it was for the best if the feelings were no longer mutual. John just wouldn't say as much when he went over. It wasn't his place. He would just be there for his friend and partner if he was allowed in after his disappearing act on Sunday. Once again, the universe was a bitch with her timing, but John couldn't exactly be apologetic for not being around.
The workday passed without much hitch at least, or with no further hitches than the chilled case and the mocking calendar. Time was ticking by and Gertrude could appear as soon as the end of the week. John wasn't looking forward to another dead girl on his conscious, even if it did bring fresh leads, since there was an instinct that another body wouldn't. The killers were organized. They were showing no signs of devolving with their murders, or of being anything less than clean or prepared. There would be a fourth and the moment it was tied with the rest, the murders would gain a new classification. The tabloids were already running it, already crying serial and the throng of reporters constantly lurking at the station doors were a persistent headache with it, ready to jump the gun. And just like how John pushed passed them with his "no comments" in the morning, he did the same as the day began to tempt dusk and departed to pick up some beer on the way to Dylan's. He wasn't sure what state he was going to find his partner in, but he made sure to give the day's weariness a firm shove aside as he approached the door. If he used his forceful cop knock, well, he couldn't exactly help himself.
"Dylan, it's John. You in there?"