The Hellion (collateralshot) wrote in valarlogs, @ 2018-03-03 11:07:00 |
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Entry tags: | !complete, dan smith, leon orcot |
Who: Dan and Leon
What: Leon needs a drink after a rough night
When: Back dated to early January after this altercation
Where: The Double Tap
Rating/Warnings Low
Status: Complete!
Leon was pissed. He was more than pissed. He’d gotten his clock cleaned by a guy he knew, and his shift wasn’t even half-way over. Even still, Leon needed a drink if he was going to finish his shift without unnecessarily busting some heads. He couldn’t go to McNally’s - the place was crawling with cops, and there would be bound to be someone there who knew he was still on duty. But luckily, the Double Tap didn’t have that problem.
He stormed through the front door, well aware that he looked like shit. His lip had stopped bleeding, but it was still swollen, and he was sure that his jaw was already turning a rather unflattering shade of purple. He’d managed to wipe most of the blood from his chin with some napkins he had kept stashed in his car, though he hadn’t been able to do anything for the blood on his t-shirt.
He sat down on the same bar stool he’d sat in the last few times he’d come, and, with a wince, stuck a cigarette in his mouth. “Whiskey and a beer,” he said to Dan.
Wow. Leon had certainly looked better. Dan watched as detective lumbered into his bar and came straight for him, like a man on a mission. A man on a mission for booze. And with the split lip and swelling face, Dan could guess why.
“Rough night?” He asked as he poured Leon his drink. He set it down in front of him. He noted the swelling that was already starting to appear on the side of Leon’s jaw. His brows furrowed together. “Who clocked ye in the face, Leon?”
“You could say that,” Leon grumbled, throwing back his shot of whiskey before reaching for the beer to chase it down. “This guy, Dave,” Leon said, and then frowned, which was immediately followed by a wince. He’d have scowled if he wasn’t sure that that would hurt too. “But apparently he hates that name. Whatever. I met him in the Seal Beach jail a while ago, and he seemed okay. Got thrown in for fighting.” Now that he thought about it, Leon probably should’ve seen the punch coming. “Dude was hopped up on something.”
As Leon spoke, Dan got one of his clean bar rags and wrapped a handful of ice in it. He twisted it all together to form a compress and handed it over to the other man. “Put that on yer face,” he instructed. Dan’d been punched his fair amount of times while he’d been a cop, both before and after he’d made detective. It kind of came with the territory, especially when you were dealing with your city’s less than reputable individuals. Still Dan could sympathize with what Leon was feeling. It certainly could be a blow to one’s ego when a perp got the drop on you.
Dan leaned his elbows against the bar and hid a smirk that threatened over his mouth. Yeah, Leon probably should have expected this “Dave” to take at least one swing at him especially considering how Leon had initially met him. “Whatcha think he was on?” He asked curiously. His days in law enforcement were long gone, but every now and then the old Detective Smith surfaced. “Meth? Crack?”
Leon took the ice pack with a mumbled thanks and pushed it against his burning cheek. He winced a little at the initial contact, but he adjusted to it quickly. He generally preferred to drink the pain away, but he had used his fair share of ice packs in his day. Unlike alcohol, the ice packs actually helped keep the swelling down, so there was that at least.
Leon knocked back his whiskey, took a drag of his cigarette, and with it still resting between his index and middle finger, picked up his beer. “Fucked if I know,” Leon said. “Crack, maybe. He was wandering around without shoes, going on about a video game and some guy coming to kill us all,” Leon waved his hand dismissively. Maybe in a place like the OC, he should have paid more attention to things like that, but it wasn’t like he’d heard the same story before, and the world still had yet to end. “I put out a BOLO though. Hopefully someone’ll bring him in before he hurts himself or someone else.”
Dan’s brows furrowed together tightly. If the two of them were back in Detroit, or anywhere else in the country for that matter, he would probably have agreed with Leon; the guy was definitely high on something. But this was Orange County and a guy ranting about a video game and that someone was going to kill them wasn’t the strangest thing Dan had ever heard, or seen. Hell, he was dating a zombie for Christ’s sakes.
Granted, there was still the possibility that the guy was on some kind of drug. Drugs, addicts and their weird-ass behavior didn’t vanish simply because Orange County itself was a strange place to live. If anything, Dan was willing to bet just being in Orange County was as good a reason as any to get messed up.
Finally Dan shook his head and shrugged. He wasn’t a cop anymore and this fell outside his jurisdiction by a longshot. “Hopefully someone does,” he said. “Whether the guys on drugs or messed up in some other way, he’s better off in custody. Tell ye what, though, iff’n he should stumble in ‘ere, I’ll give ye a ring, aye? So you kin come down an’ cuff’im yerself? ‘Ow’s that sound?”
“That sounds great,” Leon said, taking another swig of his beer. Despite the fact that pushing the glass against his lip still stung, the cigarette, the alcohol, and the ice pack had all done a pretty good job of smoothing at least some of his agitation. At least until he went back to the precinct and had to deal with everyone’s ribbing about it. He reached into his back pocket to grab his wallet so he could pull out his business card.
Dan took the business card and looked at it a moment. Felt kind of funny taking the business card of a detective. Felt a little like colluding with the enemy. Dan shrugged and slid his card away into his back pocket. He chuckled a little. On the other hand it did feel kind of nice helping a fellow cop, even if Dan himself had long ago turned in his badge and gun. “Kinda a shitty way t’ end yer night,” Dan mused. “Feel free t’ hang out here as long as ye want. I might ‘ave some asprin upstairs iff’n ye need it.”
Leon glanced at his watch and let out a heavy sigh. “Not quite the end of the night yet,” he said. “Actually, I should probably be heading back to the office pretty quick.” He took a couple of gulps of the beer, and butted out his cigarette. “Goddammit, the guys aren’t going to let me live this down.” They’d probably make some crack about Leon coming on to some woman too strong or something.
Drinking in the middle of a shift? That was ballsy. Dan raised a brow at Leon, but he didn’t say anything about it. He wasn’t Internal Affairs and it really wasn’t his business. Just the same, maybe it would be best to limit Leon’s drinks to just the current beer. It wouldn’t do the detective any good to go back to his precinct reeking of alcohol.
“Y’know it happens t’everyone at one point or another,” Dan tried to offer a bit of solace. “I worked vice when I was with the Detroit PD. Ye’d think I’d be prepared, right? Ready fer anythin’ some junkie might pull out in order t’ get away? Well, me partner an’ I were bustin this crack house. We didn’t think anyone in there was packing. Well, we were wrong. Some woman, high on god knows what, had gotten her hands on a .22. Tiny little thing, fit right in the palm of her hand. While we were patting everyone down she decides she’s gonna use it. Shot my partner right here,” Dan pointed to the place where his neck met his collarbone. “An’ got me in the calf. We were both lucky. My partner was just grazed and the bullet went through my calf clean.”
Leon was prepared to defend his choice - after all, one beer never killed anyone and if anything warranted a mid-shift beer, getting decked was probably it. But Dan let the subject drop, and the tension that Leon hadn’t realized was in his shoulders disappeared.
“Shit,” Leon said. “Glad you got off with just a scratch. Must be a helluva scar though.” Leon had never been shot himself. Sure, he’d had guys fire at him, but he’d been lucky in that none of them had ever had particularly good aim. “You ever miss it?”
“Being a detective?” Dan raised a brow. He straightened from the bar and looked thoughtful for a moment. He’d never really thought about it. It was a life that seemed like a long time ago and one he’d never be able to return to. Did he miss it? “Sometimes,” he answered truthfully. “Sometimes I do, even all the shit that went with it. Like getting decked or shot at.”
Leon grinned, though it became more of a grimace. He pushed the ice pack more firmly against his cheek. “That’s what keeps it interesting,” he said jovially. He butted out his cigarette, knocked back the rest of his beer, and shifted in his seat a little so he could pull his wallet out of his back pocket. “Thanks for the drink, man,” he said, and paused for a moment. “Maybe I’ll grab another shot for the road.”
Dan waved a dismissive hand at Leon’s wallet. “Don’t worry about it,” he said. “Consider it a consolation prize for the night you’ve had.” He picked up the now empty glass, “but I ain’t gonna give you a shot. You are still on duty, detective, and it would be a gross negligence on my part to send you out of here with yer belly full o’ the drink. But, tell ye what. Bar’s open until 2 am. Come back once yer shifts over an’ I’ll give you all the shots ye kin handle.”
“Three drinks is still under the legal limit,” Leon grumbled. The legal limit for driving, at least. Generally having anything more than zero drinks as an on-duty officer was frowned upon, but it wasn't like he was breaking any actual laws. Still, Dan had a point and Leon wasn't going to fight him on it. Especially not when his current drinks were on the house and he was offered more for later. “Thanks man, you're a fucking champ,” he said instead, slipping his wallet back in his pocket and placing the ice pack next to his empty pint. “Sounds like I'll be seeing you tonight then.”
Yeah. That was Dan Smith, a fucking saint. He grinned at Leon and nodded his head, “aye, Leon. See ye then.”