"Awwww Marshal, you just haven't been listening to the right songs past midnight," Luke said cheekily. He was tempted to burst into song right there, but he refrained, mostly because the jail was so close, and it was clear that the Marshal was in A Mood. Granted, she was a rather serious person to begin with, but she seemed to Luke to be tenser and more on-edge today than normal. Which made sense. Injection days were hard for everyone, especially bound folks.
He half-tripped up the stairs and looked down, his eyes lingering on the bulge on her arm that nearly matched the welt reddening on his. "Your arm as sore as mine?" he asked, his voice a little softer now, still pleasant, its humor had decreased. "Feels like it hurt worse today than usual." He reached for the proffered intake form and filled it out fast, then dipped his fingers into ink to give her his prints. This was the part it'd be hardest to cover up later, he knew, and he was already making a mental note to wash his hands a few more times before Teague or Fiona saw him.