#a write

“Then you’ll cooperate in any way you can,” she prompts again. “I don’t–” he starts, but catches himself short of repeating the exact same exchange. Ariadne waits. “If – there’s anything I can actually do,” he allows reluctantly. “Actually, there is.” “Oh joy,” he mumbles, then winces when she stops moving. Would you like to repeat that? But he doesn’t need the prompt. His eyes are downcast, his shoulders pulled up to his ears. He understands that he misstepped. A protracted silence is more than enough to set him squirming.

“I want you to testify against Bering.” “Who?” If his confusion is feigned, he’s a better actor than the rest of his conduct would suggest. “Charlie Bering. The mechanic?” “But I don’t – I mean, I’ve met him, but I don’t know him. Officer.” “Agent,” Ariadne corrects. Collier winces again.

“All I need is your testimony that Mr. Bering has magic and has – in defiance of the laws of this country – used that magic for personal financial gain.” “But –” Collier shuts his mouth, opens it again. “But, Officer – I mean, Agent – I haven’t – I’ve never seen him do any magic. I can’t – I can’t testify that, it would be a lie.” Ariadne raises her eyebrows. “Are you accusing me of lying?” “No, no, that’s not what I –” 

His eyes keep darting to the door. Ariadne instinctively shifts her weight to intercept any ill-advised attempt at bolting, then decides that actually it’ll be easier to just let him try the door if it comes to it..

“I didn’t mean – I’m sure you know what you’re talking about, I only meant – I don’t know if it’s true, Agent. I mean, I’ve never seen – if I testified I’d be… making it up…” His voice peters out into a nervous grimace. Presumably he hears the implicit accusation he’s making despite his attempt to frame it differently.

“But you knew he was a warlock,” Ariadne notes. “I –” he flounders. More longing glances at the exit. His mouth works “– I – suspected – I didn’t –” “You knew he was potentially dangerous.” “I never saw him do magic,” Collier falls back on. “I never saw any magic.”

Ariadne stares him down. He shrinks further into himself, and buries his face in his hands for about three seconds before he decides that actually he’d prefer to keep his eyes on Ariadne. She sighs.

“Look,” she says, “this is a rubber-stamping exercise. Bering has already confessed, we know he’s guilty. Getting a second statement is just ticking boxes.” “I don’t –” Collier stammers, “I can’t – I can’t just say something that’s not – that I don’t know is true – I can’t just – I don’t want to lie in court that’s a crime.” “There’s no court involved. All I need you to do is sign a piece of paper.” “That’s not better,” Collier blurts out, then freezes like a rabbit in headlights. Annoyance crawls across Ariadne’s skin.

“I appreciate that you’re just trying to do the right thing,” she tells the man levelly. “You seem like a good citizen. But I can assure you that everything is above board here. Bering has already confessed. His crimes were witnessed by several officers of the law. There’s no doubt involved. And besides, it’s a matter of public safety. There is no legal requirement to involve the courts.”

Collier has a hand on his face again, half pressed over his mouth. Ariadne turns away from him to pick up the pre-written statement from the desk at the side. He watches with as much dread as if she were holding a weapon as she puts it on the table in front of him.

“I just–” Collier mumbles weakly, “I don’t know if I can –” “Of course you can,” Ariadne snaps. “It’s just writing your name on a piece of paper.” She picks up the pen, and puts it into his unresisting hand. “You’re not going to change anything by refusing except making my work a little more inconvenient. So save me some time and yourself some pain and just sign.”

“Pain,” Collier echoes feebly. There’s a note of rising panic in his voice. “Can I assume you know what that word means?” He makes a high-pitched, hysterical sound in response. The pen falls from his fingers as he clamps his right hand over his face above the other one. “I – I’m sorry –” he forces out. “I think I’m having a panic attack.”

Ariadne sighs again.

“I’m – sorry – I  am sorry – I just – I can’t –” “Breathe,” she tells him. For fuck’s sakes, she hasn't laid a finger on him. 

She fills a cup of water from the cooler, and holds it out until he reluctantly takes it. The flimsy plastic deforms in his shaking grip, spilling water over his fingers until he uses both hands to steady it.

“Drink.” He lifts it uncertainly to his mouth and takes the world's smallest sip. “More.” “I – I gotta – breathe –” “Deep breath. C’mon, deeper. Hold. Now drink. Better. More deep breaths.”

He doesn't want to be having a panic attack in front of her any more than she wants to be walking him through it. He tries to get his breathing under control. Eventually he drinks again without prompting. Ariadne waits, unimpressed.

“I haven't done anything wrong,” he whimpers at last. “I believe you. So let's keep it that way.” Collier stares up at her, miserable and afraid.

“Listen,” Ariadne tries again. “If it's what happens to Bering that's bothering you, this bit of paper doesn't make a difference to that. He’s already guilty. His confession’s more than enough. All this changes is : if you don't sign it, I need to fill out some extra forms, and Bering sits in a cell for another week waiting for his sentence. This is a box-checking exercise. Understand?”

Collier looks down morosely at the statement in front of him. He's not reading it – his gaze is fixed and glassy. Ariadne picks up the pen again, and slides it gently between his fingers. “Don't waste my time,” she tells him softly. 

Hand shaking, he puts the nib to the page and signs.

“Well done. Thank you.” Ariadne picks up the page before he can have second thoughts, and puts it away in the file on the desk. Collier slides lower in his chair, like he wants to disappear under the table. 

Ariadne refills his cup and sets it back in front of him, but he doesn't move to take it. 

“I have some questions for you now.” Collier starts up abruptly. “You said that was all,” he accuses. “You said I just had to – sign, you said –” He falters, seeming unable to find the words he wants. Ariadne waits. But he's hyperventilating again, breath coming shorter and sharper on every inhalation. 

“No one's accusing you of anything,” she tells him. “It's just some routine questions about Bering –” “I told you I don't know him–” “– and about your community. Nothing bad is going to happen to you.” “I–” he stammers, “– I don’t –” “Breathe.” “I can't –” “Alright. Alright, I get it. 

“How about this – I'll go take a coffee break. You’re going to take some deep breaths, maybe drink some more water, and calm down. When I get back, we’re going to have a nice, civil conversation. Nobody gets hurt, and as soon as we’re done, I’ll sign you off to go home. Alright?”

Take out the trash and remember the way my plastic skin twisted with the simple melody, breaking the quiet. I was beautiful then, wasn’t I?

I carved myself into the model and made the strings out of my heart, rip my body apart from the inside to fit into this plastic dress; the blood and acid on my hands were worth it to make you watch me. 

And my hard work was for naught, and my body is in shambles when I just wanted you to love me.

Sarge: Takes a LOT to get that man drunk, and he only drinks the hard gross stuff (he’d love the icelandic Black Death). He’d get SUPER loud and almost completely incoherent, goes from “I’M GONNA KILL YOU” to “LMAO YOU CRACK ME UP” real fast. Will ramble about his boys if you catch him in that mood, but not if they’re around. Will probably go like “watch this: *tries to take off tablecloth without moving what’s on top of it* *everyone’s excited* *he ruins 3 sets of dinnerware* *he can’t do the trick he just wanted to try it lol*”

Simmons: Doesn’t like drinking and doesn’t do it much. Only when you pressure him into it or if he’s had a real shit time beforehand. Hates the flavour of every alcohol so he bitches about it and is likely to puke later. He gets really indignant and rant-y and pissed off mostly, you know, like “whatEVER I du-don’t even CARE ok I’m jus I’m just to MAD”. It’s easy to get him emotional, if he’s being too agitated just tell him he’s an ok guy and he’ll shut up and maybe tear up. But do NOT go too far and tell him something more profound bc he’ll start crying a LOT and sarge will be angry and grif will be angry and you’ll feel bad. Don’t mention his dad. Mostly drinks beer and such.

Grif: HOO BOY DOES HE DRINK. Team “has an alcohol problem” amirite. He doesn’t actually change that much, just gets less enthusiastic about food. And the comedy goes out of his cynicism so he’s just...really depressed and depressing. Don’t talk to him if you get emotional when drunk (like Simmons does). And don’t leave him alone if he’s had much. He’ll laugh at everyone else being drunk or surprisingly take care of them if they’re too shitfaced. Also if he’s doing good he’ll laugh all the time and be great company. He’ll drink anything.

Donut: (aka the reason I wanted to make this post). Donut is first and foremost a social drinker and goes straight for the cocktails and mixed drinks. He’ll rarely go beyond tipsy, though, bc he is....a mess. He’s only been REAL drunk for the others to witness a couple times, and it’s not nice. Like, crying-yelling-spilling secrets-hurting people by accident-not-nice. He knows it so he tries to take care not to have too much but it’s always good to have someone to take care of him also bc WOW. Do not leave alone.

Doc: Doesn’t drink. Has never gotten drunk. Tried weed once by accident and won’t talk about it. He takes care of everyone else though (with varying results) and often gets invited just to be the driver/sober guy. He knows so many secrets and so many things. People have heart-to-hearts with him all the time and he probably knows everyone’s backstory but he’ll never tell anyone bc he’s a good guy. 

Caboose: Also doesn’t drink and no one really wants him to. First of all, it takes forever to get him there bc he’s huge. Second of all, it’s even harder bc he doesn’t like the way it tastes and won’t drink it unless it’s sugared down to like 97%juice 3%alcohol. Thirdly, like, why? He is a baby. I think it’d be like that audio of Joel talking shit about strawberry ice cream though.

Tucker: Also mostly a social drinker. Doesn’t know how to pace himself and is lightweight as shit. He’ll go for hard drinks but he really shouldn’t. Obviously he drunk-hits on people and that’s when his bisexuality comes out. Has had drunk sex with most people. He’ll either crash and fall asleep 3 hours in or keep going forever and black out. Talks about his friends a lot and accidentally spills secrets about them and himself, then feels bad about it. Almost literally gravitates towards Grif when drunk for whatever reason, maybe bc Grif doesn’t take him seriously and will probably make sure Tucker doesn’t choke on his own vomit. 

Church: A mess to rival Donut. Incredibly self-destructive and other-people-destructive. Has drunk-punched a lot of people, even some friends (Donut, Simmons, Tucker, Wash (well there was an attempt)). It’s awful. One time he semi-accidentally pushed Donut into a table and got his ass kicked by like, 3 different people. He wants to be drunk always but he really, really shouldn’t be, so sometimes he’s not allowed to drink and just gets glasses of water and coke. Which makes him shit company most of the time. His drink of preference is straight up vodka. 

Wash: Tries not to drink, only drinks with certain people or when he’s completely alone for sure. Mellows out, mostly, but also gets real quiet and sad-like. Hates loud noises so he doesn’t go to clubs but he likes to disappear on people and go somewhere quiet and make everyone go “where the FUCK is wash”. Actually lays off dramatics while drunk! But also says a lot of things that aren’t exactly chipper. This is probably your #1 way to learn about his PFL days. Sometimes he forgets where he is or who he is. Falls asleep easily, mostly on top of people. He and Church should really not get drunk in the same room unless there’s supervision bc they will fight.