hello hungry, i'm dad

Walking around town to grab his morning coffee, he paused hearing holiday music playing outside of a local shop. All of the holiday stuff was already on the street, nearly in mass. Just as he was processing the quick shift in decor, he noticed someone else seemingly reacting in the same manner. “It seems like the holidays really are pushed earlier and earlier, huh? I mean I do love the holidays, but it doesn’t seem right to start playing the music until December at least, you know?”

The police department was like another family to Russell. As such, once a new person joined the family, he liked to take some time to welcome them in. Especially with having been part of the police department for many decades now. 

With Emilia Zimmerman’s disappearance and the oddities that were Friday the 13th, he had not had time to properly welcome their newest offer, Lucio. It seemed this weekend was finally the time for both parties.

Sticking within classic spots, he invited Lucio for a drink at The Penalty Box. And he showed up at 7 pm, on the dot (the exact agreed meeting time). Subsequently, Lucio also seemed to be precisely on time. “Hey man,” Russell greeted as they both made their way up to the bar. “Glad you could make it out tonight, have you been here before?”

If you want something done right…

That was the motto of the day as Karen shut the door of her car and locked it with a click, taking the stairs to the Edgewood police station with measured steps. Once inside, she informed the desk officer on duty that she had an appointment with Detective Hemlock. A small white lie, but really she would have had an appointment– if he’d been answering his phone calls. Despite this very apparent slight, there was something important she had to talk to him about, and Karen was determined to have him listen. She was in luck, the desk officer remembered her from the last time she was here and buzzed her in. Karen gave him her warmest smile as she stepped through the doors and into the precinct. She knew her way to Russell’s desk by now, and was able to find her way easily enough. And as her luck would continue, there was the detective himself, sitting at his computer, next to the phone that must not have been working. 

“Detective Hemlock!” she greeted cheerily, alerting him to her presence as she approached the chairs across from his desk, but did not sit yet. “I’m so glad I was able to catch you, you never answered about meeting.” While her smile was polite, Karen also did not intend to be turned away easily. “Oh, I almost forgot, I got coffee on my way over here and picked you up one as well, I couldn’t remember what you liked so I got something sweet,” she explained, reaching over his desk to put the second cup of coffee in front of him, and only then did she finally sit across from him, cradling her own coffee in her lap.

@russellhemlock

Things around Edgewood were a bit crazy after Friday the 13th. Reports of all sorts were coming in and Russell was busy at his office trying to figure out how to spin things...honestly, though, he was not sure what had even happened. Dahlia had confided in him about a block in her abilities for the day. As well, many people had experienced some visions or been shocked. Clearly it was something supernatural, but he had to spin it to seem...normal?

That and restore peace. Events like these could spiral into something much worse if not properly contained.

Another sigh passed his lips as he sorted through yet another file full of reports. Just as he lifted his now empty mug to his lips, he noticed a certain woman approach his desk. Thankfully it was empty or he may have spat any remaining coffee out.

“Oh you know I’m just about -” before he could make an excuse to grab coffee, a mug was placed before him. Great. He couldn’t escape this now. “Oh, you brought coffee. That was kind of you...Yeah, sorry, Mrs. Pierce, it must just be all the reports that have been filing in from the 13th. You know how days like that go - people get on edge and chaos ensues,” he explained. Unfortunately, she was making herself quite comfortable. He really couldn’t dodge her, could he? He had been trying for a few months now, but here she was.

“I suppose I could spare a few minutes. What can I help you with today, Mrs. Pierce?” He was certain it would be something not quite worth his time, but he could always redirect her to someone else and maybe, finally, convince her that this was not exactly detective work.

@russellhemlock

Danny’s was crowded. It almost always was at this hour, but that was just part of the appeal in Audrey’s book. She much preferred the lively, nearly stuffed atmosphere of the place over the soft and somber aura of a more formal restaurant. It was always weird when that many people were that quiet in a social setting. Audrey always ended up wanting to stand up and shout, or dance around like someone who didn’t care what people thought.

(Which she didn’t, generally.)

But enough of that thought - she finished laughing at the joke Russell had told on arrival to the table and kicked an empty chair out toward him. She patted the cracked vinyl seat cushion twice.

“Okay, come on, sit down, you’re already way too far behind on your trivia to even forgive.”

Traffic getting to the diner was crazy tonight. Russell was surprised by how back up it was on the drive over. While he was patient with traffic, he was also meeting a friend. Audrey to be specific - not that it had been many hours since he’d seen his best friend/work partner. But they were grabbing dinner and exchanging trivia knowledge.

After all, the would not be beat by the fire fighting team again. That team was getting too arrogant, now.

“Sorry, I’m late - traffic was crazy by the grave yard. I guess people were dying to get in,” he joked. Traffic had been past the grave yard, not to it, but he couldn’t resist the pun.

“I have been studying with Dahlia - she’s been a huge help getting me up to speed, but you’re right. I am very behind,” he began, sitting in the chair across from her. “I’m up to speed on ‘slang words’ so at least I’m not confused on the phrasing, but I have no idea what is going on with 90% of the big celebrities.

Oh, have you ordered yet?”

Harley chuckled at his somewhat dramatic comment. She knew from plenty of experience that ice cream wouldn’t stain the hood unless it was dried and left out in the sun for hours on end. Nodding she dropped her hands to her side, a small smile on her lips. “Yeah, good as new. And even if it wasn’t, I know a girl who could fix it up.” She finished in a hushed tone. 

“You are my favorite mechanic in town,” he responded with the comment. She’d been a huge help with fixing up Dahlia’s car in the past and general maintenance on his own. “Speaking of which, you must have a car here, huh? Where is it?”

“Wh–huh?” Dread pooled in Ronan’s stomach, chilling his insides on the way down, as he watched the ice cream sail in slow motion before landing on the hood of the car. The shock of it all had Ronan’s mind and ears lagging. It took a moment for him to comprehend what the would-be vandal said, and another for him to figure out what to even say in a situation like this. Ohhhhh man, his father’s ghost was going to haunt him big time for this. “Oh, fuuuuck, man, it’s my dad’s car…–” 

Somewhere in the logical part of his brain, some of those brain cells thought about all the times that car paint stood up against bird poop and vomit. Ice cream was small potatoes compared to that, but the rest of Ronan’s brain disagreed. As he swiped another rag off the table and started wiping up melted  dairy, that same logical part of his brain wondered if such a reaction had anything to do with the (lack of) coping with his grief. 

“It is a nice car…” He murmured, staring into his reflection on the hood.

Seeing who’d spoken up, Russell froze. Ronan North - the owner of the Full Moon bar, which had been passed on from his late father. This was his late father’s car. His stomach sank a bit - part of him anticipated being instantly yelled at, but instead the man seemed to go on autopilot and clean the stain.

Russell immediately snapped out of his brief fear coma. “Let me get some water on it,” he began, hoping the other man would stop so the ice cream would not just be smeared around. “I am so sorry about that brief lapse of coordination, but if we can’t get this cleaned up, I swear, I will pay to have it properly cleaned - good as new.” 

There was still the pained distant look on the other man’s face. It hurt Russell a bit. After his father’s death on the job, Russell did his best to put on a show and make it seem like it was okay, because that was how society conditioned men to deal with trauma. He didn’t grieve for almost years. He placed a hand on Ronan’s shoulder. “Hey, do you need a minute alone? Or something else?”

Harley let out somewhat of a relieved laugh. “Good. I’m not a doctor.” She returned the same light tone he had. When he asked for a rag Harley was quick to oblige. “Oh! Of course.” Pulling a somewhat stained rag from her back pocket, she quickly handed it over for him to wipe the mess. “It should come right off, especially if it hasn’t dried any yet.” She assured the Detective with a smile. 

Seeing the rag Harley presented, Russell let out a sigh of relief. “You may have just saved my life here, Harley.” The man opened up the water bottle that he surprisingly had not lost and poured a bit of water on the car and began wiping off the ice cream. The rag was doing a pretty good job. “I think it’s actually working well, here. What do you think? Good as new?”

Juliet watched him from afar, noticing the man trip and let his ice scream splatter all over an old, beautiful, car. She would have gasped if she hadn’t saw it coming. Of course, the wax on the car would protect it but that didn’t mean it wasn’t a horrendous sight. She walked slowly towards the man, a hint of a smile forming on her lips as she continued to watch him. 

“Nope, not my car.” She shook her head. “I was just admiring it before you decided to let the car try some of your ice cream.” Juliet giggled. “I’ll let you in on a little secret… I don’t think cars like ice cream.” Her voice hushed just so he could only hear it. “The guy that does own this car is in the diner, though. So as long as you clean it up before he finishes his burger, you’re golden.” 

 The man let out a hearty laugh at the woman’s sense of humor. Goofy jokes like that, Russell would tell his daughter, only to get silence as a response. “Well, shoot! Next time I guess I should try something more conventional to get the car to follow me home, huh?” 

Hearing the woman’s comment, Russell’s eyes moved towards the diner. It was too far for him to make out anyone inside or if anyone was close to the door. One thing he could see was that no one was leaving at the moment. “That’s good to know. Would you be willing to do me a favor and keep an eye on the door while I clean this up?”

Though he’d never had any particular fascination with cars, as someone who’d worked with engines (maybe not car engines, but engines nonetheless) for more than a decade, Monty had a healthy appreciation for the cars that had been brought out for the show. He’d been slowly making his way through the car show when someone revving one of the car engines saw him as witness to Russell managing to get ice cream all over the side of one of the cars. With a sympathetic grimace, Monty headed over to offer his help, since he was there anyway, when the detective started to ramble out an apology.

Laughter bubbled out of him at the question, a little surprised and a lot amused. “Nah,” he answered with a shake of his head. “This is way out of my price range.” And it wasn’t even at the more expensive end of the cars being displayed. “You should probably get that wet, make sure you don’t just,” he made a swiping motion in the air along the path Russell had been cleaning, wrinkling his nose a little, “smear a layer of ice cream onto there.”

He slid his backpack around to his front to pull out his water bottle and hold it out in offering. “Here, I’m not sure if anyone else will have any handy.”

“You know,” he began, in a hushed tone, “I gotta say, as much as I appreciate these cars, I can’t say I understand how people are willing to pay an arm and a leg to buy and then maintain them. Especially when they’re not super functional.” Again, Russell could appreciate the cars, but did not understand taking up such a pricey hobby.

Looking at the offered water bottle, Russell hesitated. “You sure? It is hot outside, I don’t want you to get dehydrated on account of me launching some ice cream.”

Claudia was meandering around with her camera, sporadically taking pictures and short videos of whatever seemed especially interesting. Ashland Street Days weren’t exactly worthy of the evening news, even on the weekend, but she still liked to post little, fluffier reports about what was happening around town on her own time on Facebook and Twitter to keep her connected to the community. 

One thing she definitely wanted to get some video of was the old car fair, and she arrived just in time to see one of those cars lose some of its value before her eyes. It took her a few seconds to realize it was one of her brother’s coworkers who’d apparently made the mess, and she couldn’t help but move closer to see how this was going to be resolved. “No, no, I like Bluetooth connections too much to ever have a car this old,” she assured the man as she shut off her camera and covered the lens again. “Do you want someone to stand guard just in case the actual owner does show up? I know it’s only ice cream, but I don’t think anyone who owns these cars like’s so much as a a fleck of mud on them.”

Russell gave a nod in agreement. “I have to agree with you there. I like that Bluetooth technology. My daughter has it in her car and the talk to email thing gives me assurance that she’s not staring at a screen.” His eyes fell to the car before him. Even with the slight stain from the ice cream, it still was a gorgeous car. “I gotta say, they don’t make cars with as much craftsmanship as they used to, you know?”

Both brows rose at the offer. It was generous. “I’m with you there. Do you think you can do me a bit more of a favor and go grab some water? I know there’s some free cups of water at one of the booths. Plus, there’s a rag under the car, but I don’t think wiping it without any water is a good idea.”

Tristan never really understood the appeal of old cars. The nostalgia for their by gone era was not applicable to him and their stiff non-force transferring bodies always made him wince. And the poorly aerodynamic shape - there’s a reason, several reasons, the engineers moved on from these designs. But whatever.

He was at this market with Dante and Hallie. They were supposed to just spend the afternoon musing of knick knacks and having fun, so he wasn’t going to waste it bemoaning the romanticization of outdated technology.

Not really paying attention to the sale as he passed by, Tristan did however noticed the unfortunate accident that befell another attendee on the hood of one of the cars. Rest in peace mister. Because their state of being obsolete aside, Trist was well aware that these vehicles were very pricey.

“Nope,” he informed the other man sympathetically. “That is is most definitely, not my car. I wouldn’t worry though. They wouldn’t put these things out on sale if even a little ice cream could damage them.”

A sigh of relief escaped Russell’s lips as the man approaching confirmed that he was not the vehicle’s owner. That meant the detective still had a few moments to correct for the incident. 

“In the long run, it won’t damage the vehicle. However, I can’t image the person hoping to show off their prized car would be too pleased to see it covered in ice cream.” The man’s eyes shifted around the area to see if anyone else seemed to be approaching them. No one yet. “You wouldn’t happen to have some water on you, would you? I’d prefer to clean this up before someone gets too upset.”

“ ‘Fudge.’ ” Audrey nodded thoughtfully over the word once Russell had finished his ham-handed apology. “You’re right, it’s totally missing fudge.  Just a big-” she made a gesture with an open palm, covering the entire hood of the car in her minds eye, “of fudge. That would top it off.” She laughed then, at her own joke. “Smooth moves, Russ.”

Audrey took a moment to munch on her own sundae. She was not quite finished picking just yet. She bumped his shoulder with hers.

“Hey. I know a guy on the police force. I’ll get him to let you off the hook.” She smiled toothily. Now she was done. (Well, once she finished laughing at that last one she would be.) After another moment of admiring her partner’s handiwork she shrugged. “I wouldn’t worry about it too much. A quick rinse and it’ll be fine.”

At the familiar voice, Russell perked up. Even if he was a bit stressed about the mess he’d just made and almost at the point of fixating on it, she had a way of pulling the man out of his own head. “While we’re at it, we should just get some bananas and make it a banana split mobile,” he added, laughing along at their terrible jokes. “Thanks Audrey, I didn’t get the nickname ‘Smooth Criminal’ for nothing.”

Better Audrey there with him than any of the other people at the PD. She would tease him nearly relentlessly for the incident, but she was also likely to offer a hand. “You’d do that for a goofball like me?” he ribbed. “I know, I know, I’d just rather get it all cleaned up before the owner even noticed. Some of the people here are a little crazy about their cars, you know? You got any water on you?” He had napkins on his person to wipe it up, but he was also side-eyeing a rag someone had left behind.

          Cars were not something that Lucio really cared all that much about. They were never the type of material possession he considered anything more than functional. Growing up, he had more important things to worry about and spent most of his time studying or with extracurricular activities. Cars were means of transportation. Despite his opinion on them, Lucio could appreciate some cars… when they were old and rare or an unusual color. The only reason he’d come to the car show was to see what sorts of cars would be there, since majority of the time the only car he drove around was his work car. 

          Be prepared for anything. Lucio had been taught that all his life. So when someone revved their car’s engine only a few feet from him, he didn’t even blink an eye. However, his eye caught Detective Hemlock, who apparently wasn’t prepared for the noise. Lucio turned his attention to the man just as the ice cream went flying onto one of the cars. He couldn’t help but smile a little bit. “It’s not my car,” Lucio responded, but grabbed a rag and poured a little bit of the water he’d been carrying around onto it. “This should at least help with the stickiness.” He helped clean up a little bit. “Are you into cars, Detective Hemlock?” 

Eyes darted up to see the face of the new police officer at the ECPD. What was the young man’s name again? Started with an ‘L’? “Glad to hear I didn’t just splatter ice cream on the newest member to the PD, that would be embarrassing,” he lightly began. The man was still getting a read on how the new recruit would be, especially since he hadn’t come out to any trivia nights yet. But, so far Russell had nothing to complain about.

“Oh, that’s nice of you to clean it up, but really, I should be the one cleaning. I’m the one that made the mess after all.” All he had at the moment were some napkins that came with the ice cream (may it rest in peace) but he began drying up the areas the other got with the rag. “I can appreciate old cars, but I don’t know much about them. How about you, Rinaldi? Here for the cars or the festivities?”

Ugh. Harley had tried so hard to make sure her car was ready for the show, but once again, the pedals were sticky. She had done everything in her power to fix the issue that kept arising, but nothing seemed to work expect pushing through the stickiness. In an act of desperation, she pushed on the gas harder than she should of, causing the engine to rev loudly. “Shit.” Harley hissed as she noticed many passer-bys turn to stare or actually jump at the sound. One of which was Detective Hemlock who spilled something onto another car because of it. 

Turning the car off, she stepped out and hustled over to him, pulling one of her own rags out of her back pocket to aid in cleaning. “Sorry. Not my car, but I was the one who revved the engine. I didn’t mean to startle anyone.” She confessed with an embarrassed laugh. 

Out of the corner of his eye, Russell saw a woman rapidly approaching. ‘Oh no, this is it, someone is about to be really pissed off.’ Just as thought entered his brain some clarifications were made. “My heart is beating like I just ran a marathon, but no heart attacks here.” Jokingly, the man clutched his chest.

There was still the issue of ice cream dripping down from the bumper, just above the tire well. “You wouldn’t happen to have a rag or something, would you? I’d like to get this cleaned up.” Especially before someone went into a blind rage over their prized car getting dirtied.