Drake The Notorious Killer.

Day one, Murder 9

I get up.
I shower.
I dress.
I munch on an apple.
I drive to work.
I sit at my desk.
I stare at the paperwork.
I finish it three quarters of the way and then-
Someone speaks to me.

"Brook was it?"

I trail my eyes slowly upwards, my facial muscles lax. Detective Konan. I can already tell he's gonna be an ass by the way he stands; as if everyone owes him something with his shoulders high, his chest puffed out slightly as if he was born that way.

"What?" I don't stop myself from being rude. He doesn't seem to notice.

"You're new here right? Haven't seen a pretty face like you in a while."

"Your point?" I ignore his last comment. Annoyance seeps into my voice, and I prop my head onto my hand.

"What do you say to a night out?" My eyebrows shoot up, and I pull on their reigns, stopping them halfway.

"Excuse me?"

"You heard me. Just us," He pants, sounding more like he's on the verge of death rather than a seducer. He smirks as if what he just said was the greatest phrase. I lean back, crossing my arms over my torso, looking at his muddy eyes.

"Hell no." He blinks, his dark lashes caught in a batting loop.

"What?"

"I said, no," I restate before getting back to my paperwork.

"Look Girly," He sneers his words out. "No one, and I mean absolutely no one, rejects me."

"Well, you better get used to it then," I murmur absentmindedly, not batting my eyes or lifting my face up from my work. His fist collides against my table. I gaze at it for a moment, wondering if there was a bug unlucky enough to be under it before going back to work. Lazer beams bursting from his eyes bounce off seamlessly from my mirror sheened skin. He looks me up and down.

"I don't know what I saw in you. You're a worthless bitch tryna play detective who probably slept her way up to this job." My jaw clenches. What he says is nothing new but it still strikes a nerve. I lift my gaze slowly from my paperwork and look at his face. He's not bad looking so to speak, brown hair, brown eyes, roman nose, slight jawline, muscle but a bit of weight, but man, does he have a ghastly personality. I look deeper, and try not to gag at the result. Scratch marks peeking out from his collar from the back of his neck, stretching to his hair. Slightly bruised lips, or perhaps just a stubborn smudge of lipstick. His shirt is crinkled, and if you smell deep enough there's what one would refer to as an 'after sex' smell. His hair is tousled. He definitely did not just have a morning sesh. Definitely.

"If I were you, I'd think twice before assuming something about me, Konan."

"Oh yeah? What're you gonna do about it?" He says, his Irish accent coming in strong as he raises his voice challengingly.

"Something you wouldn't like."

"Oh yeah? And what is that?" In a flash I'm standing and my fist strikes out to his nose. It crunches. Ouch. That must hurt.

"That," I murmur before walking away as blood drips from his nose in a waterfall.

"You bitch!"

All I do is point him the rude finger and continue to walk, getting onto my motorbike and driving away. It's my lunch break anyway. I've finished my paperwork for the day too. Things were a bit slow in the precinct. Only a few crimes. Burglaries, assaults, small stuff ya know?
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I stop at a cafe. It's mostly empty. The door chimes as I walk in, helmet in hand. Sliding into the corner table, I pick up the menu.