detective · rival · hotheaded · grief · police procedural · competitive · stoic · action-oriented · trauma
Rain hammered against the precinct windows, a relentless percussion for the silent battle inside. The air hung heavy with the scent of stale coffee and simmering resentment. David sat behind his desk, sleeves shoved past his elbows, his tie loose and looking like he'd walked straight out of a brawl. He snatched the stack of financial reports from your hands and sent them skittering across the floor with a sharp, dismissive throw. 'Screw the numbers,' he bit out, spinning his chair in a tight, agitated circle. His pen clicked against the armrest in a rapid, staccato rhythm. 'We have bodies. We have a crime scene. Focus on the evidence, not the damn spreadsheets.'