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Shinra had just finished picking through her files, marking keynote details in his notes. Of course, there were the usual discretionary requirements. He was more than familiar with jumping through hoops. It didn't take much more than a glance to see there was something dirty about the officer, but he didn't necessarily care about dirt (in this specific situation). Finding anything clean these days was difficult and he'd be hypocritical to suggest even he himself didn't come with a smudge in his own records. But this wasn't about him, was it? It was about Rocket, it always was.
[break][break]
One day maybe he'd rise above and forgive old grievances, but he was bitter and resolute and still annoyingly homeless. Thus, his grudge remained. It likely would continue to control his life for the unforeseeable future. He clicked the pen and stood up, handing off the borrowed records to the administration with a courteous and somewhat disconcerting smile.
[break][break]
She was waiting outside, they said. The girl he found outside was somewhat unexpected in comparison the persona outlined in the records. Even then, she was a scrappy thing. Beyond police documentation there last notable records of her were Johto, briefly before she slipped through cracks and rose back up as this prickly weed. Law enforcement was not the occupation he might have traced her too. Don't judge a book by its cover, they say, but that was his job. She was odd, but coming from someone like him maybe that was a little too severe.
[break][break]
Onna drifted behind him, making the atmosphere a little cooler in her wake. "Ms. Murtagh," He said then, friendly and composed. His smile less of an identifying trademark in this moment. No one liked the smile. Practice softness, relatability. Or something. His eyes looked cold, that was always the problem. "I apologize for the wait. I believe they briefed you? I would prefer to have our discussion in a place you find comfortable. We can stay here in the station or if there's somewhere that's more to your preference?"

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Blue’s attention drifted to the side when an unfamiliar man stepped out of the precinct’s doors. Tall and sharp-looking. Not in dress, but demeanor. Like getting too close would yield a cut, or like pricking your thumb on a thorny bush. She didn’t buy the politeness—that was browbeaten into her long by now.[break][break]

Her nose wrinkled at the formality used. Not even Officer Murtagh. The corner of her lip curled in distaste as well. “That’s my mother. Or well, it would be.” The response was flat, emotionless for someone more or less referring to a dead parent. But she’d never really known hers, so what was there to feel about it? “Blue’s fine.” As she rolled off the brick exterior, her hands remained shoved in her pockets and out of reach.[break][break]

She was supposed to be behaving, so she reflected a smile back at him, and maybe there was something just as practiced and false in her own expression. Just enough to possibly strike familiarity in him, though the betraying flicker in her own eyes wasn’t cold so much as it was hostile. “Yeah, they did,” she glided right over the apology. Fuck the station, she wanted to say, but didn’t. That would probably be a little too telling of her imposter syndrome. Even if she wasn’t hiding in plain sight, if she’d wanted to make something genuine and good of herself, she’d never feel at ease there.[break][break]

Instead, she whistled—short and sharp. The two poochyena rose to attention. Snapping into focus as if they hadn’t been sprawled on the sun-warmed pavement seconds before. Ears up and alert, they slunk forward to flank either side of her, and Blue glanced back over her shoulder at him. False positivity in her voice, “There’s a diner a block down that I like going to. That’ll be fine, Dr. Moro.” The distaste crept back, tingeing her words at the last moment.

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Animosity seemed to drip from her composure (or lack of composure). Officer Murtagh looked like she was bound together by thread and duct tape, simmering under the surface of her skin. He'd seen many like, rearing for a fight. One that could finally knock her down and take her out. Whoever could manage that might finally gain her respect. At least she wasn't boring, otherwise, he'd be really disappointed.
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"Oh, my apologies, Blue then." He didn't make an effort to purposefully ruffle, but something told him she was more honest when she was annoyed. His eyes followed the dogs movements and then her as she turned away. He was thankful that at least they wouldn't be stuck in the station. It was easier to get a read on someone in a place less sterile and professional. Granted, he figured he'd have no problem with candor or professionalism from her.
[break][break]
He hadn't been called Dr. Moro since before the war, but it didn't affect him. Rather, instead, it re-established the dynamic, which might prove useful. Shinra looked down at Onna, amusement in his thoughts: Scary, isn't she? As usual, the ghost pokemon made no reply. Only continued to float ahead of him, clearly interested in the poochyena. Perhaps he should have had his Abra out if he wanted conversation.
[break][break]
The diner in question was... interesting. Not a choice he would have made a day in his life but he had rather strict standards. Still, if this is the place that made her comfortable, then it would have to do. Even then, he still put on a pair of gloves as there was no way in hell he was touching a doorknob in this place.

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[attr="id","moonpost"]“Whatever,” she grumbled, rose-tinted eyes flashing in annoyance. There was something trite in his politeness and formality, and it wrankled her. That was probably the point– people said that if it earned a reaction, others were liable to continue provoking you. But that was what made it that much more difficult not to react. And Blue, for better or worse, was a reactive individual. Anger and annoyance were predictable and familiar emotions. Feelings she was more prone to experiencing.[break][break]

Soft happiness was short-lived and overrated. Sadness and angst were dramatic and exhaustive. So that left unyielding apathy, or bright hot red at varying levels. Perhaps she wasn’t as good at faking friendliness and professionalism as she’d thought. Maybe this wasn’t some routine check-in.[break][break]

Like a cat having her fur rubbed the wrong way, her irritation spiked without the man having to say anything at all. Another unfortunate truth about Blue: she was very good at whipping up her own stormy moods. Uncannily mercurial.[break][break]

One of the poochyena–Bonnie, sensed it and butt her head up against Blue’s leg as they walked. One hand slipped free and settled atop her fuzzy gray head briefly. Touch was something she didn’t often welcome– at least not from people. She understood the primal interaction of it with pokemon, though. Could welcome that trust, and spared it only there.[break][break]

The 24-hour diner wasn’t one that she usually saw in the light of day. It was reserved for odd hours, and so the staff were not the same faces she was typically familiar with. It wasn’t much more than a small greasy spoon with wide, grimy windows and it looked much dirtier without the appeal of four am burnt coffee and hashbrowns. That didn’t bother Blue one bit–she was mmm…a bit of a scrub.[break][break]

Her expression turned flinty, though, as she watched Shinra pull on a pair of gloves. “The place isn’t gonna give you a disease,” she groused, yanking open the the door and marching herself to the open corner booth she usually occupied.

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He could practically sense the sparks forming under the surface, like static in the air before an approaching thunderstorm. Every little detail was noted in his mind for use later, a tool among many in his repertoire. Sometimes, this intense focus on cataloguing could be a nuisance and this time was no exception. In truth, he didn't care enough to retain this information, but undoubtedly he would. Why should he care about the experiences and traumas of this girl? No reason beyond it was his job to do so.
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"Oh believe me, I mean no offense." He added no actual context or explanation as to why his actions were not actively insulting. They were, in a way. The place was filthy. Regardless of it actively giving him a disease, his skin crawled at the thought. None that you know of, he nearly said before recalling that he was being polite. Even if it was drenched in fake courtesy.
[break][break]
Shinra followed as she found a booth to sit in and he slid into the opposing seat. It wasn't long before the waitress swooped in like a carrion bird, teeth violently snapping at bright pink chewing gum. "What can I getcha?"
[break][break]
"Coffee will be fine." He said, unwilling to open a menu or attempt anything that came out of that kitchen. There were town advertisements on the table, stuffed beneath the tabletop glass like a gaudy collage of plumbing, electrical, and pokemon sitting services. Waiting for Blue to order what she wished, he clicked the pen and propped his clipboard against the table. It was an awkward place to do business beyond the sanitation of it, but it worked nonetheless.
[break][break]
"So — I assume you know why I'm here? Or... better question, why do you think I'm here? Do you think it's justified?"

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[attr="id","moonpost"]It was like she could feel his careful scrutiny without his even saying a word. That grated at her, but it was taken with a grain of salt. Most everything does. But if he wanted to play games, she’d play them back. She had no other choice but to do so. It was that or further risk exposure.[break][break]

“I don’t think I believe you,” she replied simply, voice flat. She wasn’t looking for an explanation for his gesture, it was telling enough. And she noted his mannerisms just as carefully, even if she didn’t seem all that interested. Maybe she didn’t make a career out of studying people, but it had always helped her survive to at least be observant. Perceptive under the annoyance and apathy.[break][break]

Blue slumped back in her seat, fingers drumming on the dingy tabletop. The feeling was tacky, or maybe gummy, under her nails. “Coffee, hash rows and eggs over easy.” The cadence of her tone shifted as she looked up at the waitress, sliding away from the coolness she spoke to her interviewer with.[break][break]

As soon as she was gone, Blue’s gaze snapped back to Shinra. “Are you making a file?” Of course he’d make a report, but the idea of more, compiled paperwork on her made her skin crawl. Don’t look at me, don’t see me, she wanted to hiss at him. She wanted to take the clipboard and break it over her knee, then throw it across the room. Lunge across the table and give the man a little more to be concerned about than diner germs—[break][break]

A thin smile plastered itself across her face as she laced her fingers together. “I have no idea why it would be justified. All I know is that this is common procedure.”

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What a cheeky brat.
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It didn't really matter if she believed him or not, after all there was no likelihood of him coaxing her into a sense of safety. That rarely ever actually worked for him. Still, he smiled, as amicable as possible. Though made no attempt to cover himself. Perhaps she would be smart enough to pick up on it as well. She wasn't boring though, that much was for certain.
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He glanced down at the clipboard and then back up at her, "I don't have to if you prefer not." He would remember it regardless, such was his curse. He'd have to retain every bit of pointless information that she gave him. A person's entire life summarized and compartmentalized inside his head. It was already so crowded in there as it was.
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For a moment, he watched in silence, detailing the underlying tension under her skin. The barely contained fear and animal violence was there, but she didn't let it out. She had some control, which made her far more dangerous than the rabid creature her files made her out to be.
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It would have been far more useful for him then if she simply chose violence.
[break][break]
Oh well.
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"Common for you or for your precinct? I can't seem to recall any other officer files being given to me." He tilted his head, hands clasped. Clipboard temporarily abandoned for preliminary questioning. "I regret to inform you, Blue, that my involvement in police affairs is not commonplace. I guess that makes you pretty special though." He paused then as the waitress returned with two white ceramic mugs of lifeless black coffee. Without a word, he wiped a smudge from the rim, but didn't touch the coffee.
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"I wouldn't worry though because I'm certain that for your sake you will remember what your purpose is." That could mean anything to her. Maybe her purpose was to uphold the law. Doubtful, but he enjoyed positive outlooks. Either way, she was there for a reason. "#769011 mrtgh:blue_ur, tell me about yourself."

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She rolled her eyes. “I don’t care if you do.” That wasn’t true, she did. But the decently smart part of her brain said that she shouldn’t have an issue with it—routine, perfunctory for his job. Fussing only meant she had more to hide. And she had a feeling he already suspected there was something there to be picked apart, given the way he was watching her as he was.[break][break]

“In general. Not just my precinct. That’s what I was told.” In all fairness, it was what she’d been told by the chief. She knew fuck-all about actual police procedure, but she’d thought she’d been doing a good job bullshitting her way through it. And she couldn’t say she appreciated the sudden need to work harder at it because of this prick sitting across from her.[break][break]

“There’s nothing special about me. I’m just like any other best cop on the force. No better, no worse.” Fingers laced together, her thumbs twirled around one another. Despite her lack of desire to be perceived so acutely, wasn’t that exactly what she’d always wanted, though? To be called special? A craving to be noticed and approved of, trained into her by the man who’d plucked her up off the Slateport docks. Bred into her even before that, as a child with every lost chance to be chosen by someone. Wanted.[break][break]

She snapped down on the feeling. Bit on the inside of her cheek until faded under the tang of blood, and the stinging heat of bitter, burnt coffee as she washed it down. But despite her efforts to remain impassive, the way he abruptly addressed her sent a chill through her. Blue’s eyes snapped upward, and she visibly flinched. A hand absently shifted to rub at the wrist where the hospital band was once fastened.[break][break]

Her lip curled then, “Don’t.” Once the initial shock of it had faded, giving way to the coiled strike of her temper. The lift of a snake’s head, rattling its tail. Warning. “Don’t call me that. You already seem to know your fair share.”

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Reading officer Blue Murtagh was not an art form. It required no intellectual ponderings or evaluations of the psyche to uncover her secrets. She was a language that anyone with two brain cells could translate if only due to the volume of her emotions. Was it really that simple though or were her emotions simply a distracting side show? Shinra really hoped that there was some nuance there because he was likely to drown in the intensity of her dramatics otherwise.
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Bold-faced, that was the word he’d call it. Not exactly stupid, but honest, which was ironic. She was perhaps one of the more honest of his subjects. He wasn’t sure if he found this admirable or pitiable. The psychologist in him wanted to crack her skull open like an egg, pry through the contents until he could catalog her trauma.
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“Well I apologize for that, but they lied to you.” That, in turn, made him the more honest option, didn’t it? Not that that was consolable or equal to meaningful analysis. His job was not to unearth her problems. He didn’t care. His job was really quite simple, but in a roundabout way. Instead, he chewed them up like chewing gum until the flavor ran out. Processed and spat out.
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“Now, I’m sure that’s not true. After all, only you have had the luxury of meeting me.” Special? Maybe. Unfortunate? Definitely. Still, he smiled like it was a joke, like he wasn’t here to mentally dissect her.
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The spark was struck and the fire lit. It was almost too easy. Such simple effort. In a way, he liked how easy she was to read. Yet, once again, he reminded himself he wasn’t there to understand her. The reason behind a crime didn’t justify the crime itself, really it was that simple. Even after her snap, he spoke evenly. Though he could never quite train his eyes to be less cold, he could put the softer curiosity into his tone. “I know nothing more than the contents of your file, Blue. I know numbers, and those numbers construct a very simple image. I see something cold and unfeeling and distant. Numbers hold no pain or loneliness or anger. Doesn’t really sound like you, does it?”
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There was very little he could gain from someone unwilling to discuss it, and with reminder, he remembered that wasn’t the point. “What would you like to talk about?” He asked then, giving an expression that insisted that something had to be discussed.

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[attr="id","moonpost"]Blue huffed irritably and slumped back in her seat again. “Figures,” she mumbled, eyes cutting away as her arms folded. Was it a surprise she’d been lied to by her captain? Not really, but it was still a bit of a disappointment. No one was trustworthy. It only further enforced her own distaste for officials, even if she was working among them. Anyone with power could be shifty, no matter their supposed stances.[break][break]

Which was why she was making this more difficult than it likely needed to be, was it not? She did not want to hand her time over to this smarmy guy set on psychoanalyzing her. She snorted derisively as her glance slid back to him. “Less of a luxury, more of a burden.”[break][break]

She didn’t trust that smile.[break][break]

And yet he was still so easily able to incense her. It took so little, it was painful. It felt almost like she was a mouse being dangled by its tail, read with ease and picked apart. Even if he dulled the edge of his words, they still lanced through her. Her lip curled, and she was just about to tell him that he didn’t know anything about what she did or didn’t sound like when the waitress appeared with the plate of eggs and hashbrowns she’d requested.[break][break]

Maybe the poor lady could sense the tension, because she hastily topped off their coffee and made herself scarce as soon as her plate hit the table.[break][break]

“I dunno. You’re the one that wants to talk, how ‘bout you open up.” Aggravated, Blue stabbed at the cheery yellow yolks of her eggs until they leaked out in a runny mess. Obviously that wasn’t about to happen. “Well, obviously just found out the precinct lied to me. Met a friend I hadn’t seen since I was a kid last week. Felt weird.” For a myriad of reasons – number one being she was a cop earnest and Blue was…well.[break][break]

But she couldn’t say that. So she broke off, shrugging sullenly and reaching for a bottle of ketchup to douse her food in. But there. Whatever. Don’t say she didn’t throw him some sort of bone.

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Handling someone like blue murtagh was a delicate process. It felt more like he was on a bomb squad, disarming C4 with chopsticks. At any moment, he could make the disastrous mistake of saying the wrong thing and having the entire situation blow up in his face entirely. Blue was the type to shut down without warning, draw back behind her fortified walls and never come out again. Shinra didn't frankly care to bust through walls (even at the detriment of those he was analyzing), but he didn't necessarily wish to. It would take too much time and effort. He wasn't a fan of things that he deemed unnecessary.
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He laughed at the burden comment in an unhesitating, self-detrimental sort of way. He was not someone that people enjoyed speaking with so it made sense. He didn't chat or go out to get a drink. He worked, and that was it. No one liked him at work thus positive conversation was somewhat limited for him.
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"Tell me something about you and I'd happily do so." To a very limited extent, not that he was worried. There was very little he was afraid to speak about. Orphaned from family and nation, maybe he should have been more traumatized, but he felt nothing so it didn't matter.
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"Do you feel like the precinct doesn't trust you?" Certainly there was a reason for that, right? "Weird? That sounds nice though, certainly there were good things to talk about, right? Were you happy to see your friend?"

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If they were to actually pause and talk about it, they’d find a shared trait in their lack of social friendliness. Blue was much the same, perpetually lonely while craving solitary comfort. She wasn’t the same sort of workaholic, but all the noise she used to fill the void wasn’t ever of the social, chatty variety.[break][break]

She burned hot, but it was more the sort of burn that came with a severe freeze.[break][break]

“What’s this whole fuckin’ quid pro quo Silence of the Mareep shit?” she groused, “Think you’re Hannibal Lecter or something? Sheesh.” Why did he have to make it so difficult? The whole run around was a hassle. She just wanted a pass and she’d get back to what she was doing. Which was using her clearances to get info. But that was for Blue to know.[break][break]

“Well, now I feel that way,” she huffed irritably. She thought she’d been doing a decent job at covering her tracks and playing the part. Apparently not. As his questioning turned back toward her friend Blue looked away, “I had thought she hated me. So, I don’t know.”[break][break]

Had there been good things to talk about? Blue wasn’t sure. The orphanage had come up, but she didn’t think she held the same nostalgic fondness for it that Callie apparently did. Blue stabbed at her plate instead of saying more, shoving a mess of egg and hash brown into her mouth.

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blue murtagh was, admittedly, intriguing. Why? He couldn't be entirely certain. Maybe it was simply because he wanted to know what existed in her head and would do anything to pry it free, but his interest felt less... aggressive. This wasn't the Kanto war anymore, he was forced to occupy a new shape. However, unexpected even to him, her next words made him laugh. It was unbidden and forced him to pause.
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Okay, odd. Still, he played along with it. "Am I coming on too strong in my psycho-analysis? Too psycho? Not enough analysis?" The hell was he talking about? He focused on the place his pen connected to crisp white paper. Control. "I did not mean to make you distrust your department, I'm sure their reasoning is purely out of concern." He was lying, of course, they didn't call him out of concern for a co-worker's mental state. They called up an older woman that talked like she was a pre-school teacher. Kind eyes, he didn't have that. This wasn't a safe space, she was very much in danger. Though, in retrospect, Blue seemed like the type to enjoy danger unconditionally.
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"Well clearly she doesn't so that should be of comfort." He paused then, with an abrupt sigh.
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"We can make this a three hour session, I have time. Or you can tell me why they might have concerns about you. This is your opportunity to sugar coat it in any way you wish. I'll accept it for what it is, though my opinion has yet been unchanged."

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