Memo
He/him
28
August 26
Spikemuth, Galar Region
Homosexual
Ranger Captain
Elite Ranger
it gets lonely in this gangster's paradise
high, high hopes [m]
POSTED ON Jun 16, 2022 20:02:59 GMT
The attendant-- some lowly ranking PC cadet stuck on desk duty-- sat him down in the interview suite and asked if he wanted tea, pegged probably by his accent. Memo declined, and asked for a water, instead. It was rather Un-Galarian of him, but he couldn’t stand tea.
His fingers tapped against the pressboard table as he looked around the room, downplaying his nerves. It certainly wasn’t an ABR-- that’s Achieving Best Results, to those of you who haven’t found yourself on the wrong side of Galarian law enforcement before-- suite, which usually had a couch or something at least hinting towards comfort, with nicely painted walls, tiled floors, and a one-way window dressed up to look like anything but. ABR suites came out when they had soft-spoken gentry on the lead. It also wasn’t one of the slummy, piss-stained cells they used for the tried-and-true criminals.
He was probably in a middling one because, he had to guess, he wasn’t really a criminal, even if he was way overdue for this debriefing. With no super concrete power structure, and being rephrensively underfunded, there was no real Long Arm of the Law the rangers could use to pin him down and drag him in for this interview. They relied, instead, on the metaphysical gnawing on his conscience until it got too sore and he came in, himself.
The floor was a laminate in a mid-grade wood design, and the walls were that gray sound-paneling, except for one that was, in its entirety, a black window. There were three measly potlights in a line recessed into the ceiling, one of which was directly above Memo and the rectangular pressboard table he was seated at.
He wasn’t on trial. That said, he’d seen… things. Things he didn’t understand. Things he really, really wanted to ask the commander about-- if he was given a chance to get a word in edgewise, that was. Lars may have been all about ‘Hey, we’re one big family,’ but Memo wondered really how far that extended.
The attendant brought back a bottle of water-- cold, probably from a vending machine-- and asked him to state his name and rank for the record. Then they left, and Memo could do little but wait for the Head Ranger to come in and read him the riot act.
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