#yaaaaaaay cops

@bucktemple

The hellhounds had retreated when a fresh coat of snow fell lightly in the early morning of Swynlake. Ambulances and firetrucks were dispatched. Police spread throughout Swynlake’s streets, answering distress calls. Copp went with Sheila to the hospital, taking little Isabel with them (he’d return later, ‘course-- though Rajah said he could take the lead, if Copp needed it). And just like that, 24 hours later, life had quickly fallen back to normal again. As normal as a town like Swynlake could be.

The worst of the damage was Pixie,which got most of Rajah’s attention in the first few days, along with everyone else’s. But the hellhounds had trashed the kitchen in the Tipton Hotel and left scorch marks when they escaped through the lobby. No real fire damage, but enough that Rajah had to make rounds there to record and asses. He was there this morning after the tenth call from Mr. Moseby about how his hotel was getting “neglected” by the town in favour of a “glorified brothel of sinful spirits and inappropriate gyrations.”

Mostly, Rajah was here for appearance sake, to calm the bloke down and pretend to take down notes. Which he’d been doing now for an hour as Mr. Moseby ranted and showed Rajah for the fourth time a particularly nasty scorch mark on the hallway wall, interrogating Rajah about what Swynlake and the Board was going to do about it.

Rajah took more pictures for him-- again, mostly to look like he cared.

“Will that be all, Mr. Moseby?” said Rajah, sighing after he’d snapped a few more pictures. The man scrunched up his face and then jabbed a finger in the air.

“What about tape?”

“Tape?” said Rajah.

“Crime scene tape! Like in the movies!”

Rajah stared. “...no crime has been committed, Mr. Moseby--”

“Damage of my property! Breaking and entering!” squawked Mr. Moseby.

“Fine, fine, I’ll-- I’ll go to the cruiser and get the tape,” uttered Rajah. “I’ll...be right back.”