you aren't born with strength, you cultivate it

RHYS | I know I'm never gonna change

PUBLISHED:  1 FEB 2024

Phone calls are a constant in the life of a Detective. Either trying to get the attention of an officer failing to properly document something (or get their full, documented statement for a scene they were on), trying to get in contact with people to interrogate or question, getting calls from officers requesting the assistance of a Detective, and criminals cold calling to mock the Detective.

It's unsurprising Rhys encounters this same issue. Even when hospitalized.

"Novocaine, I keep it coming so I feel no pain
I tell my girl that I'mma change my ways
She knows I'm never gonna change (Change)
Same old shit
Running my mouth until she busts my lip
So many problems, you can take your pick
I know I'm never gonna change"

"Novacaine" | The Unlikely Candidates

______

Ringing filled the near-quiet space. It was paired with the distinct clacking of an outdated keyboard, the satisfying clicking clacks audible and swift in their commotion. Instead of pausing to stop the ringing, the clacking continues, trying its hardest to overshadow the attention-grabbing BRRIING BRRIING BRRIING that failed to falter in its song. Sighing, the occupant at the keyboard pauses, turns to the offending device procuring the sound, and aggressively snatches it from its place dormant to his right.

Rhys gives a childish glare to the item, staring at the 'Unknown Number' interface displayed with annoyance. Instead of letting his phone take his ire, he answers the wretched thing after the fourth ring, bringing it up to his ear as his eyes scan back over the mountain of words inhabiting his computer monitor.

"Yes?" He asks, uncaring if he sounded rude. He was busy.

"Mr. Valentine?"

He nearly drops the phone clutched delicately in his left hand, stunned and unknowledgable on how to continue. This voice was as recognizable as Xander's indignant grumbling, a noise he's kept locked in the back of his mind, repeating in the worst of moments. 'Oh, you think so?' rings clear yet again, confirming his suspicions on just who was on the other side of the line. There's no fear in his mind, no anxiety on what this call meant. He wasn't afraid of this man. Rhys only saw this man as his prey, his trophy for the taking, another criminal to be put behind bars when he's stacked enough charges to never see the man again, maybe even see him placed against a wall and shot until he stopped moving. Maybe the man would even choose something slower (and less satisfying) like lethal injection.

Sucking in an inaudible breath, he rubs the bridge of his nose. "Mr. Bullard."

The Lieutenant can imagine the smile the man would have on his face. He's seen it enough on the cover of magazines. Smug, "charming" and hiding a sinister side most can't see. If it weren't for his innate ability to spot a wolf among sheep, he would've assumed the man was nothing but a sucsessful businessman. Yet, underneath his daylight person was a disgusting excuse of a human being that deserved being sent to death for his treacherous deeds.

There's an obvious smile in the man's voice that confirms his guess. "You remember me? I don't know whether or not I should be flattered that a Deputy has done so."

A punch to the man's face sounds so tempting. If only he wouldn't be held accountable for his actions and the man was standing in front of him instead of cowering behind the protection of his phone. "It's hard to forget someone as dirty as you."

"I don't know what you mean by that, Mr. Valentine." Bullard deflects, as expected. His voice dripped in sarcasm and faux innocence, the mere noise grating against his ears.

This time, Rhys smiles. "I advise you to retract that statement."

Bullard scoffs, unknowledgable about the mountain of paperwork the Lieutenant was currently working on. "And how do you suppose I'd do that. I'm being truthful, Deputy. Why would someone of my status lie?"