rawly: (negative: thoughts of the dark)
Sonny ([personal profile] rawly) wrote2011-03-26 11:10 pm

[locked to the Crowbar][all employees]

I think we have a bomber to find.


I get why this would be a mission that would be triggering for some of us. If you want out, I understand. This is something I've got to do.

[identity profile] fuckinpenguins.livejournal.com 2011-04-04 12:41 am (UTC)(link)
Deb, in turn, has a little trouble not snorting at Sonny's comment about the door. The narration loves you, Sonny.

She waits patiently - well, patiently for Deb - while the guy decides to play a quick game of hide-and-seek with them; she's used to this shit, really. No one likes having the cops coming around asking questions, no matter where you live. The guy has some serious attitude, but she lets out a relieved breath when he actually has useful information.

The guy gets another smile from Deb, with a few less teeth this time, and she says, "Thanks!" before the door gets shut in their faces.

She grins at Sonny, much more genuinely than she was smiling seconds ago. "Bullet-less interrogation is always score fuckin' one for the home team," she agrees. "I'm guessing the cops might've missed a few things, seeing as they don't have Rift-detector-thingies."

Yes, that is going to be Deb's word for that. She is a motherfucking world of professional, Deb.

It feels weird, for a second, referring to the cops as something she's not a part of - as a group that as far as she's heard can't exactly be trusted. Especially because what they're doing, now, feels almost like police work.

Without the violent feelings toward her partner, that is.

She shakes off the thoughts and looks back at Sonny, then asks, "Door number two, you think?"

[identity profile] fuckinpenguins.livejournal.com 2011-04-04 10:31 pm (UTC)(link)
All you need is love! Which the narration never thought she'd say in a thread involving Debra Morgan.

Anywho!

"Sounds like a pretty fucking fair assessment to me," Deb agrees. Although if they make it through this day without severely harming anyone, they're champions, anyway. Truth.

As has been said, she does have a way with words. Not a conventional way, but a way!

It really does.

"Works for me," Deb says with a nod, but she takes another breath as they move on to the next door.

This time the door is opened by a woman. She's old, grey-haired, and tiny, and before Deb can even start to say hello, the woman starts babbling at them in what Deb's pretty sure is Russian.

It is really just a perfect day.