"Officer Y/N," I hear, making my head perk up at the sound of my own name being called for work. I spring out of my chair and make my way to the producer of the sound, one of the officers that I work with.
"What's up?" I ask, my thumbs tucked professionally in my navy blue belt loops as I slightly lean back on my heels.
"Guess who?" The other officer smiles, rolling her eyes and leading me into a room with the people newly arrested. And I knew exactly who she meant. "Goldengod is back again."
Regulars around the office aren't uncommon, but we don't have tons of regulars. Each officer is assigned to a regular, people who come in most often because they can't seem to do legal things and stay out of trouble.
The regular I got assigned to work with is a man named Robert, whom around the office we call so affectionately "Plant" or "Goldengod." He's the most common of all the regulars, always getting into trouble with minor things, such as fights or parties growing unruly or too loud.
Entering into my office, Plant smirks up at me, handcuffs placed almost naturally around his wrists. "Morning," he said, a slight laugh ringing in his thick accent.
"Yeah, really morning. What are you doing here at two in the morning?" I scoff, sitting down in my office chair as my co-worker slammed the door leaving.
"Do you want a truth or a more fun story?"
"Well," I start sarcastically, "considering this is a police station, we kinda like the truth here. But only sometimes."
"Suit yourself. But both stories are fun anyway," Plant says, adjusting himself comfortably in a slouching position, "So my friends and I were partying,"
"As per usual." I cut in.
"As per usual, and we blew off some fireworks from beer bottles and it hit through someone's window," Plant explains, smirking to himself as he recalls events from the early morning.
"You are something, Plant. So what did the person who called the cops say when you blew a firework through their window?"
"Are you sure you're required to ask this? Because you seem more interested in my story than you are doing your job." Plant raises an eyebrow and tilts his head, the smirk painted on his lips growing wider as I cross my legs.
"No, not really. They've already asked you questions in the other room. I just need to make sure the story you told them matches with the one you told me. And they figure you'll tell me more details since I seem to be your favorite officer here,"
"You are my favorite, you're not mean or controlling like the other ones," Plant admits and mumbles something under his breath I can't hear, "What if I'd been lying to you and them the entire time?"
"I suppose that's not good, considering you'd grown such a bond with me that you'd lie to me for something stupid."
Quiet overrules the commotion outside my office door, as Plant and I are caught in the most imperishable stare, our eyes locking hold in wonder while our mouths sit contently sewed shut. For a moment it almost seems natural as I look deeply into his blue-grey eyes placed perfectly under thick eyebrows.
I look away, breaking the stare and turn my attention to the boots on my feet. From my peripheral vision I catch a glimpse of Plant's wide toothy smile.
"Plant," I start in attempt to break the sickening silence, "Why are you always in trouble? Why do you always insist on getting in trouble?"
"Again, Officer Y/N, do you want the truth or a more fun story?"
