He leans heavily against the holding cell bars, arms threaded through to clasp together in front of him. "Detective Riley. S'a pleasure, my name's Cassidy," he introduced himself with a grin, "any rate, I jus' need someone t'cover up that window over there. Do it meself, but I'm a bit 'eld back at this particular moment."
“Right. Cassidy. And exactly why do I need to be doing that?” For a moment, Riley takes a long look at the guy. Can’t quite tell if he’s a junkie or a boozer but probably a bit of both, and he’s also pretty sure if he stops long enough to listen that there’s a story here he’s not seeing right away, but at the same time, something about the very polite (points for that) request hits him in a wrong kind of way.Or maybe it’s just the grin.But he finds himself staying for whatever answer comes out of it, at least for the moment.