Who: Tohru Adachi (
righttocarry) and Riza Hawkeye (
firebornfidelis)
When: Backdated to midday April 14, a few days after
thisWhere: The Police Headquarters
Format: Paragraph, past tense
What: Riza comes down to the offices to review the accumulated information on the killer and Adachi is there to . . . assist?
Warnings: Probably nothing too too bad, some innuendo
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When the woman spoke, Adachi dropped all his papers, watching in dismay as they fluttered down around his deak chair. "Aw, jeez," he said, ducking behind the table to scoop them up haphazardly. He poked his head up, gave her a long look: not bad. Nice legs, big eyes, and he never said no to a blonde. "Sorry," he added, giving her his best hangdog look. "Lemme just, um- that's me." Papers in hand, he climbed back into his chair, tried to sit straighter. "Adachi, I mean, that's me." He leaned over his desk, holding out a narrow hand.
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She took the offered hand, her brow furrowing apologetically. "I hope this isn't a bad time?"
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Placing the papers on the desk, be began to shuffle them back into order, picking out a few he thought were relevant into a separate file - L had left behind a well-organized list of the incidents associated with the killings. Even as he worked, his eyes kept flickering up to her. "Please," he said, gesturing to a nearby office chair. "Take a seat. Sorry about the clutter."
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Riza took the seat he indicated, setting her papers in her lap so as not to clutter his desk further. It was a bit of a mess, almost as bad as the Colonel's around evaluation time. But she knew what it was like to have to take on someone else's workload so when he smiled, she did too, allowing the corners of her mouth to turn up and her eyes to soften just enough to tell him that she could sympathize.
"I brought a report that may be of use to you," she said, absently touching her fingers to the neatly handwritten words on the pages in her lap. She missed her typewriter. What an odd thing to miss, she thought, chastising herself for idle wistfulness. "But I don't want to burden you with unnecessary paperwork. If I can see what you have on file then I can determine what, if anything, would add to your information."
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He pulled out a bulging brown folder, stuffed with everything from drawings of suspects to L and Light's previous reports to hand-taken witness statements and print-outs of network posts. There was an index sheet at the front; he pulled it out as he sank back into his chair. "Obviously since the information is mostly confidential I can't just hand this whole thing to you," he said, proffering the table of contents. "But take a look at this and if you need to see something in particular I'll uh, wrangle it." A chirpy grin.
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"May I see these two documents?" she asked, turning the paper back to face him as she indicated two reports on the list she thought might contain information to corroborate what she had observed.
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