Jackson Fine

— BASICS

Name: Jackson ‘Jack’ Fine

Age / D.O.B.: 29 - 5th of November 1991

Gender, Pronouns & Sexuality: cis male, he/him, demisexual

Hometown: Las Vegas, Nevada

Affiliation:  Law enforcement — Non corrupt

Job position: Police Officer

Education: Police academy graduate

Relationship status: Nada

Children: 0

Positive traits: empathetic, efficient, decisive, pragmatic, flexible, insightful.  

Negative Traits: impulsive, hot-blooded, tactless, distrusting, detached, turbulent

-

“I LOVE TO SEE PETTY PEOPLE DURING THIS OF YEAR” Emine said under her breath as she shook her head. Some things just never got old and people coming in for the stupidest shit was one of those things. She looked up at him when he mentioned getting some pies. Just as she was about to ask if he could get her something, he offered for her to join him. “You don’t have to tell me twice.” She could use a break from all of this and these petty complaints from people. 

Grabbing her jacket, she shot up and began to make her way out the door. “We really don’t and by the looks of what has already come in today, I think we deserve two pies each.” Maybe a few coffees. “Let’s go.”

"Right,” he gave her a glance. Somehow, he was never entirely sure whether people were serious or joking. He supposed, however, that there were few chances she enjoyed that spectacle.

Meme Day

Bold what Applies

My muse knows how to…

WHILE SHE DID MEAN THANOS, Silje could only shrug in response. ❛ I think the fact that either could work should be more concerning to you. ❜ As much as she might like to unlock Dark Jackson, he was hardly on the road to villainy. ❛ Not cool or too cool? ❜

On the other hand, a few snowballs seemed enough to give him a jump start. She imagined that his tolerance to the cold, or lack thereof, was comparable to her inability to withstand the heat. Summers were harsh and no matter how much she blasted the air conditioning, she never seemed able to cool off. Not that that ever stopped her from relishing the first few weeks of the season, though.  ❛ I’m glad to hear you say that, I was just getting started. ❜ 

Snowball fights were, quite literally, the only instances in which her childhood felt normal. The mutual competitiveness amongst the ‘recruits’ made for hours of snow hurling and if she didn’t know better, she might have thought it a coincidence they left them to play for so long. 

To his credit, Jackson fired off several good shots that she didn’t have time to dodge. Any chance of staying dry went out the window after the second snowball, snow chilling her neck as it melted against her skin. And his ability to hold more snow than her clearly worked to his advantage —— damn her small hands.

Then, after failing to block a sharp hit to the back of her head and pelting him with a final retaliation shot, ❛ Okay truce. ❜ She shook the snow from her hand, chuckling. ❛ If I throw another it might end with you having permanent brain damage. ❜ That, and feeling had left her fingertips several handfuls of snow ago. ❛ Not bad, Fine. That one curveball? I didn’t know you could do that with snow. ❜

.

“Oh piss off, that was way too cool,” icy, freezing. The woolen scarf wrapped around his neck was not doing a great job at keeping the snow out, hélas, and it was in days like those that Jackson truly missed the Las Vegas heat. They never had snow over there, and while he loved it the first time he saw it, the man now associated it with people slipping on the pavement and suing their neighbors for it.

And it was with clear traces of snowball impacts on his coat that Jackson accepted the truce offered by his dear friend. “Ah, so you admit that my brain was in excellent shape before all this,” he pointed a finger at his head as he spoke. Not that he often played the part of the genius, Jackson was used over the years to people looking down on him, at school, first, because he was a foster kids, then at the academy, and then at work.

It was fair. He supposed. After all, who was going to help him learn his lessons after class? No one. It was a good thing then that a bored out of his mind Jackson figured that reading his copybooks was far from the worst thing, and if he became less studious in high school, his foster family at the time was more involved in his scholar results then, and made sure he didn’t just drop out. He had been lucky. Truly.

Fallon was someone who would flirt with anything that walked and had human legs. Though the trauma she experienced, she hid it with her usual charm, which made it hard for people to usually say no to her. Being stupidly intoxicated at this point, she most likely wasn’t the most attractive person, though in her mind she seemed to be so.

Hearing him say that he had to have a talk with the bank, she lets a drunken giggle escape, red-petals. ❛ um, I sent a message to my daddy’s assistant. I’m sure she is doing all that at this moment. ❜ she says, as if he knew who she was, the charming family had pull, especially in law enforcement. ❛ what if i confessed to something ? ❜ Would she really do this ? No, you did not confess to the murder. She couldn’t. Even intoxicated, she knew that this was off limits. ❛ n-not a confession more like a question, so you see i have this friend and she’s been in a quite complicated relationship. is there anyway that she could get out of it, even if it’s become volatile ? ❜

.

"Your daddy’s assistant?” The Vice detective wondered if that was supposed to be referring to her paternal figure or someone else. Either way, he couldn’t exactly relate to having an assistant do everything for him. You would think detectives would have a secretary to sort out their paper work, but they had to solve crime and be good with administrative bullshit too.  “Well, I’m glad it’s being handled. That’s our priority,” identity theft, as Dwight once declared, was not a joke, however.

❛ I DON’T THINK THAT WOULD GIVE YOU the character arc you think it would. ❜ Silje had consumed more than her fair share of fiction throughout her life and, while she frequently found herself empathizing with the story’s villain, she had a good idea of Jackson’s allegiances. ❛ It reads less tragic billionaire-turned-bat and more angry purple man kills daughter. ❜

She breathed a sigh of relief as the mound of snow cracked against the pavement rather than her head. That relief was short-lived, however, as she misjudged the trajectory of his backup snowball.

It collided with the side of her neck, falling apart and, as promised, scattering below her collar. ❛ I hope it was worth it, ❜ she said around a dark chuckle, scooping together another projectile. ❛ Cause you’re going to pay for that. ❜ She threw it without fanfare, straightening up and releasing the snowball in the same motion.

"I cannot tell if you mean Killgrave or Thanos,” either way, this was clearly not great news for the cop, who would have preferred to be compared to Matt Murdock or someone equally good. Wrinkling his nose, Jackson brought his shoulders up as snow melted and slipped further down his collar and onto his back. “Fuck. That was really not cool.”

Was that worth it, then? Absolutely. The two of them suffering all at once was a great alternative to Jackson suffering on his own. “Heh, I’m not quite as cold as I was on Halloween yet. I think we’ve got plenty of room for improvement,” or whatever the opposite of improvement was. Then, thinking back on that night brought a small smile to his face. He never had been quite nearly as embarrassed, and that came from someone who survived hazing in the police force. The only thing that had changed was the company, really. You cared for someone, and suddenly, everything changed.

Her next snowball hit him in the cheek. She was not nearly American enough to play baseball, but that didn’t seem to make a difference here. Rubbing at his sore cheek, he looked at her in faux offense. “Alright, it’s on.”

Skipping about to avoid another ball heading his way, the detective scooted down again, and again.

starter 004  🚓 who: open to ALL  when: January 1st, around 7am where: the XYth precinct 

“Happy New Year,” her sequin dress made noise as she plopped into one of the remaining available seats at the buzzing precinct. It’s been a few hours since Nora’s romantic getaway was cut short, and she returned at Andrea’s behest. Someone with a clean record was needed; to go to the precinct and settle the situation. Was it the 56th? 34th? 98th? Nora had no clue. Paperwork was the worst part of any job– hers included, but she, as well as the person seated next to her, had entertainment in the form of an off-key version of Fairytale of New York coming from the drunk tank (what other song would the drunken dream team be singing, anyway?). “So far I’ve been mistaken for a sex worker twice, called a witch for having a basic first aid knowledge once, and it’s only been a few hours. Can’t wait to see what else this year has in store.” Nora chuckled, debated asking what their deal was, but decided against it, for the time being, and her gaze skimmed over the vending machine instead. “Want to share the first meal of 2022?”

.

“She says, as she ends up spending time in a police precinct on its very first day,” though clearly she was on the good side of the bars, no one would have considered the station to be a cool place where to hang out. Jackson offered the woman a sheepish smile, his way to apologize for his sarcasm and let her know he felt sympathy for her, only because she appeared to be the only normal looking person seated here. 

“Believe me, I see sex workers every day. Everyone looks like a sex worker.” Because quite frankly, short dress affinity aside, anyone could have been working the oldest trade in the world. “Witches, I don’t see everyday though, I’ll give you that. Where did they teach you magic? Hogwarts? Med school?” Rubbing a hand over his tired face, the detective reached out to get a sip of coffee. Two hours of sleep was the worst idea, and he felt as if everything would have gone in a much smoother way had he not gone to bed at all. “The chocolate muffin is actually pretty damn great,” he commented. Talk of food had him wondering where he had left his Danish pastry.

.

“Can ya blame them? Humans are massive, man, and frogs are like- itty bitty.” With this, he holds his thumb and forefinger, widely underestimating the size of frogs. “Some of them are this small, prob’ly.”

At that, he scoffs, “Y’can’t say somethin’s an animal cause it moves. Even I’m not that dumb, Jackie. What about ones that don’ have any legs? A freak accident, cat loses all its limbs, it’s already in a bad way, and now you’re gonna take away its- I dunno- animalhood, too? You’re a dick.”

“I can have more than one friend, Jack, stop bein’ so possessive.” Benny hums. “Tigers are alright. I wonder if they’re scared of frogs. Y’know, like elephants and mice?” 

.

“Please remind me to take you to the zoo,” the detective gave his friend a shit-eating grin. Besides, dig or not, the zoo had a proper selection of food, and wasn’t that the fuel of their friendship? If anything, this was Jackson being a great friend.

“Well, animals do move. Unless they’re dead, but that’s a bit grim, don’t you think?” Count on him to stand his ground, especially upon being called a dick. “And you know, snakes kinda do the whole no legs, still an animal thing. You didn’t have to cut off the limbs of a cat to prove your point. That was ... kind of a dick move.”

.

“It isn’t anything with me and frogs, Jackie, they’re just fuckin’ neat!” He stuffs his keys back into his coat pocket, and raises an eyebrow. “Y'know, m’not even sure if they are animals. Amphibians, right? Anyway, you got a favourite? Y’can’t say Garrus, that’s cheatin’, even if he is pretty great.” Huffing, he plucked a fork from the table and brandished it at the man, “You can’t say shit like that. Frogs and me, we’re friends.” 

At the mention of food, the fork dropped slightly, “I can’t believe we’ve never been here before, the cheeseburger is s’posed to be great, too.”

“Heeeh, they just... sit there and jump when you get close,” he raised an eyebrow. Perhaps he would have to get Silje’s opinion on the matter, not that a criminal should have been the voice of reason, but a second opinion would have been good.

Oh boy. The American educational system failed them, hadn’t it ? “Yeah, I think they are  animals... They move, and stuff. Anyway...” He was about to say Garrus. “Touché.”

Ben levelled his gaze at him as he questioned the shirt. “Yes. Your problem?” He’d found this shirt as an absolute steal in a tourism shop, and he held up his car keys to Jackson, showing the little rubber frog he’d bought alongside. “Fuckin’ cool, right? We should get matching ones.” 

The man nodded decisively, coping his friend to look at the menu. “Best strategy is before, durin’ and after - best ‘n only way.”

"What is it with you and frogs?” What was it with Jackson and his dog, fries, and running? Who knew? “I don’t know, they’re not exactly the best animal out there,” he smirked, leaning into his seat. “Yeaaaah, I don’t know Ben. We could also get matching cool animals.” Alright, now he was asking to get hurt.

“See, this we can agree on,” offering the approaching waiter a smile, Jackson ordered himself half a pint and let Ben do the same. “Alright, now the important part. I heard they have great fries.”

closed for @officer-fine​ location: jackson’s residence; mid-day

“Jackson! Jackson, open up!” Her knuckles hit his door again and again, trying to conceal the squirming in her jacket. Every so often, the creature mewled, and Lucia melted. “Open up! It’s really important, I promise!”

And when he did finally, Lucia’s hand hovering in the air mid-knock, she unfurled her coat to reveal the dirty little abandoned kitten she’d found. She’d just been walking in the area when she’d noticed it, and Jackson had the great fortune of being the only person she knew that lived there. She didn’t think he’d mind, Jackson was a good kid after all. “Look, I know I said I would try to stop bothering you one your days off but…a kitten!” She picked it up and held it out. It squirmed and mewled and shook in her hands. “It’s so cute, and so sad.” She cooed, “and oh, it kind of looks like you! But–I found it in the area so I thought I’d see if you wanted to help me get it cleaned up before taking it to a vet.”

“Lucia?” His dog nudged at his leg, to try and get a look at their visitor. “No, Garrus. Go to your basket,” Jackson watched him walk away and turned his eyes back on his coworker. “You did say that. Twice,” not that he had plans. Jackson often preferred to stayed just by himself, but that did not mean he remained inside 24/7. “What was so urgent?” He looked down at the kitten with furrowed eyebrows. Oh no.

“Ah yeah, let’s compare the foster kid to an abandoned kitten,” he deadpanned, rolling his eyes as he let her in. The subject wasn’t exactly a touchy one. Everyone knew he didn’t know his parents. “He’s shaking. He needs warmth. I’m pretty sure a bath’s gonna kill the guy,” he countered with a grimace, heading up the ladder to pick a fleece blanket from his bed.

"Froget about it?” Jackson raised an eyebrow. He finished taking off his own coat, although his eyes narrowed to make sure he had read that right. “You’ve been watching Donnie Brasco again?“ Crossing his arms on the table, the detective reached out to get a look at the menu on the table.

“Are we getting drinks before we eat?”

𝐑𝐄𝐆𝐀𝐑𝐃𝐈𝐍𝐆  ╱  𝐉.  𝐅𝐈𝐍𝐄

To say that she was a little intooxicated was to say the least. She had lost her Dior clutch and had stumbled into the police station. Around the holidays, it was always a little bit tougher, on her. As she stumbles into the police station, you can smell the smell of tequila from the rose petals. ❛ i think if all cops were as cute as you, crime would be so much less. ❜ She says this while resting her hand on the counter to keep herself from falling over. She’s gathering her words, trying to sound as sober as possible. ❛ s-so you s-see what happened was t-that. I might have had a little too much to drink and I seem to have lost my purse. It had two of my credit cards in it and. Can you assist me with that, brown eyes, or do I need to speak with someone else?  ❜

Her compliments were met with a light scoff. Right. Jackson might have been lacking in confidence, it only ever got worse when people complimented him in any way or on any matter. There was a light pink hue to his cheeks as he reached to get a sip of coffee from his mug. Drunk people really said the darnest thing, didn’t they?

“Well, you’ll have to have a chat with your bank," he explained, pulling out a phone book from his desk drawer. Who still used those in 2021? That’s right, the NYPD. “While you do that, I’ll start filling in the paper work for stolen IDs and driving licence. If there’s anything else you would like to report, I’d need to know those too.” He didn’t really do that anymore these days, but on Christmas, everyone had to help.

-

EMINE WAS SET TO HELP OUT. Despite her raise and being sent to another corner of law enforcement, that hadn’t started yet and with the level of activity normally going on during the holidays, she was pulling her weight like everyone else. There were a bunch of stupid calls but also including some that had to do with thieves and incidents involving turkey cutters. 

Peering up at the individuals who walked in, the brunette smirked when it was a woman indicating that someone had shovelled snow on their driveway. These were some of the reasons she could appreciate being a police officer. People always had some ridiculous reason for trying to seek out justice. “I think you can deal with this, Jackson?”

“Snow on the driveway? Really?” Then, on Christmas, even homicide detectives had to deal with this kind of crap. He was only in Vice, clearly at the bottom of the investigative ladder. Of course they would hand those over to him. “Yeah, yeah,” he took a look at the clock on his phone. He probably could have used a small break right now. “Imma go get some coffee, probably some pie too,” he blew a raspberry, picking up his coat from the back of his chair. “Then, I’ll start solving crimes.”

WELL SHIT. On any other day, Silje was a fan of instant karma. People getting what they deserved, universal justice… just so long as ‘people’ wasn’t her. Call it self-serving, but it had worked thus. ❛ Not regret just — this is a new coat, Jackson. ❜ That and she was genuinely concerned about the sheer amount of snow coming her way; it had to weigh a ton. ❛ And that’s so much snow. It’s probably frozen solid by now. Why don’t you go grab a different, much smaller one? ❜ She’d had more than her fair share of experiences with such snowballs. ❛ I’m just saying, you’d feel really bad if I died tonight. ❜

.

"I don’t know. Killing a criminal with a snow ball sounds like a perfect origin story for a comic book character,” he had yet to decide whether that made him a villain or a hero however. Still, the snowman’s head in his hands, he looked at her. He came from the desert and his experience with snow was scarce. If she claimed that thing was lethal, as she came from Scandinavia, it was probably best to listen, wasn’t it?

Then, how many time had she been full of shit?

—

Bas had spent the night at the station, the same as she did most nights. She had Bray in her bed, while Chirp and Hop found people who wanted to sleep with the large dogs. The calls had been sparse, but it didn’t matter. In the end, all that mattered was that she spent the night around people she cared about, doing a job she loved.

Until the next morning when she went out to get her jeep and spend the morning with Elijah, as he offered to cook breakfast, and she offered chinese food for dinner — there was no jeep. No decked out civilian vehicle made for one Captain Thibodeaux. All she could do was report it to the nearest precinct and wait to find out if anything would be done. Thankfully, she had taken her kit out like she did every night.

In apology for bothering the officer on Christmas, she set down a large hot chocolate and a chocolate chip muffin. “My jeep was stolen,” she said by explanation, “which is a problem for me – but it’s also a problem because it’s a paramedic captain vehicle with lights and sirens.” She nearly rocked back on her heels before she remembered she’d topple over. Good save, Bas. “It’s lime green, and I have the records for it–” she dug around in her bag while the three dogs waited next to her. “Was hoping you’d point me in the right direction.”

.

"That’s... for me? Thanks.” Not exactly waiting for her answer, the detective already had his hands on that muffin. You didn’t need much more than food to win him over, which really was problematic from an ethical point of view. Picking a piece of cake out of the muffin and putting it in his mouth, the detective reached out to get his hands on a report. “That... kinda sounds like an emergency,” the last thing they needed was someone pretending to be a medic and kidnapping people. Perhaps it was working vice that made him so suspicious of people’s intensions, but somehow this was his first hypothesis. “Heh, maybe they’ll be stupid enough to try and sell it.”

The detective looked up from the paperwork, and noticed, at last, the dog around her. It was not exactly the place for this but his expression brightened. “Man, I wish I had enough space for more dogs. They look really well behaved,” he commented, holding out his hand to get a look at the vehicle’s registration.