"What can I say?" Deb asks, smirking right back. "I'm one of a fucking kind."
It does make them human, or as close as possible. It's something Deb's always valued in people. She might come off as harsh; she might have a mouth like a truck driver, but underneath it all, Deb's human to an almost painful extent.
But it's better than being empty. It's better than not caring at all. The rage she feels sometimes, the sadness - the occasional bouts of happiness - it's all more reason to stay on her feet in a city that does what it can to knock her down.
That gets Deb laughing, too. "That's me," she says. "Sunshine and daisies and... I don't even fucking know." She makes a face, waving her hand. "The color pink."
It is an awesome joke!
"Right," Deb says. "'Cause if there's one thing people love, it's being asked the same fuckin' questions over and over again." But she shrugs, because as frustrating as this is probably going to be, it'll all be worth it if it gets them somewhere. Even the slightest thing can be a clue, sometimes, can be a lead that makes or breaks the case. So she takes a quick breath, pushes some of her hair out of her face, and walks up to the first door she sees.
This, at least, is something she knows how to do, despite her obvious lack of people skills. It's something she's comfortable with, if not thrilled about. For a second, it feels like any other case.
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It does make them human, or as close as possible. It's something Deb's always valued in people. She might come off as harsh; she might have a mouth like a truck driver, but underneath it all, Deb's human to an almost painful extent.
But it's better than being empty. It's better than not caring at all. The rage she feels sometimes, the sadness - the occasional bouts of happiness - it's all more reason to stay on her feet in a city that does what it can to knock her down.
That gets Deb laughing, too. "That's me," she says. "Sunshine and daisies and... I don't even fucking know." She makes a face, waving her hand. "The color pink."
It is an awesome joke!
"Right," Deb says. "'Cause if there's one thing people love, it's being asked the same fuckin' questions over and over again." But she shrugs, because as frustrating as this is probably going to be, it'll all be worth it if it gets them somewhere. Even the slightest thing can be a clue, sometimes, can be a lead that makes or breaks the case. So she takes a quick breath, pushes some of her hair out of her face, and walks up to the first door she sees.
This, at least, is something she knows how to do, despite her obvious lack of people skills. It's something she's comfortable with, if not thrilled about. For a second, it feels like any other case.