Lost in Blue

𝕱𝖚𝖊𝖓𝖋𝖟𝖊𝖍𝖓 : Schadenfreude

Giddy with naked spite, Dorn happily took a sip of what would be the best cup of black coffee in a long time, flavored with schadenfreude. After several ups and downs these past stressful few weeks, he finally could enjoy his favorite drink in peace again without the thought of a certain journalist crossing his mind with worry.

When Gessler entered his small office with the usual smug grin plastered onto his lips, the hot beverage tasted even sweeter. Soon that sneer of his would vanish.

"Please take a seat, Gessler." Henning motioned to the chair opposite of him behind the desk.

The journalist sat down, legs crossed. Like he had promised and without hesitation, he pulled out a file out of his black briefcase and shoved it with one single finger across the table.

Dorn sighed and picked up the folder. "I assume that is the result of your research."

"Ja."

The policeman flipped through the pages to skim over well documented details about the two Rhine cases and how the police department not only withheld information, but also failed to investigate a missing person case properly. Figures like Schneider and Kühn were mentioned casually, but most of the blame was put on the policeman himself and his superior Eckert.

One thing was for sure: The solid amount of sensible intel would certainly cause immense reputation damage once it got released to the public.

And yet, Henning wasn't fazed in the slightest.

Dorn dropped the file on the table, shrugging in contentment. Gessler only arched his eyebrows.

"Too bad for you I did my homework as well, Gessler."

The moment he had been waiting for finally arrived. With as much power as he could, Henning slammed his own file on the table – his so called "proof of Gessler's doom".

"But I have to commend you. That report of yours was the first one in your life that has absolutely no forged evidence or was exaggerated to the point beyond realism." Dorn clapped his hands. "Nicht schlecht."

'Not bad' – probably the best compliment one could receive from a very stern German, even though in this case it was meant in the language Dorn happened to speak fluently: sarcasm.

Slightly concerned, Gessler picked up the policeman's file.

"I am certain this is nothing more than a bluff." He opened the file and began reading. "After all, I haven't done anything that would cause harm to my caree-"

His voice caught in his throat. Henning could see how Christian's expression became gradually more horrified each time his eyes danced from left to right.

Henning leaned forward, his chin resting on top of his intertwined fingers. Behind them, he hid his smug grin.

"Got you."

Eyes widened, Gessler looked up. He opened his mouth to speak, but no words came out.

"What did you expect? That I do nothing and simply wait until you walk into my office to display your arrogance, just because you came across another scandal your career can thrive on? I think you forgot you started an argument with a policeman."

Like a little boy, the journalist pouted. "I thought you were an easy target ..."

Now Dorn was rendered speechless. The audacity. That jerk should be frightened at the possibility to be banned from his line of work and here he was, sulking he lost a battle he had provoked.

Henning contemplated whether his opposite was just presumptuous or plain stupid.

The policeman sighed heavily. "I'll ignore that last remark for now. You're lucky I'm gracious enough to make you an offer, so your reputation won't get ruined."