-For a moment the man she was looking at stood with his mouth open, and scratched himself, and looked like he was modeling for a statue of the Greek god of Stupidity.  Clearing her throat Chris gave him a chance to reflect on the errors in his life that had brought him to his current predicament.  Obviously it didn't take long since he started to give her a series of uhm's and uh's that would have taxed her short fuse were she not perpetually on alert for just such an occasion.  Idiots abound, even in the sanctity of the police force.  Tapping a manila file against the inner edge of her hand she narrowed icy golden eyes at the nametag on his blue uniform.-

"Dumas?" -His name was Officer Dumas, that had to be some kind of a cosmic joke. Didn't it?- "Don't tax yourself.  I'll find it myself."

-In theory most Homicide Divisions had a seventy-two hour meeting to give everyone time to get somewhere with a case, but soon enough that their leads were still warm.  The scene was usually pretty typical.  A conference room, the crack crime-fighting team assembled led by their indomitable leader.  She had transferred in from Vegas just two weeks earlier and had been milking the substance of life from the city her first week in town while the transfer went through.  Now that she was here, now that she'd had time to get acquainted with her new base of operations, she wanted work.  It was the only thing in life that made any sense.-

-She'd been told there would be a meeting for the Division via computer memo, which was her least favorite form of being vaguely ignored by the higher-ups, yet she still had no idea which of the conference rooms the meeting was to take place in.  Since a simple question seemed only to inspire officer Dum-Ass to stare at her tits and make guttural noises it looked like she'd have to start playing friendly with the local Detectives to find out how to slide into the swing of things around here.-

-Moving back through the station she dropped the folder off with the Desk Sergeant on her way past and headed through the rows of desks towards the one with her name on it.  Everything about her little quandrant said: I have no life.  There were no personal items, not the hint of a picture or even so much as a decorative notepad, and everything was organized to the point of compulsion.  As she lowered back into her chair she lifted the cup of coffee from her desk, idly flicking her eyes over the Cafe DuMonde logo before taking a sip.  Leaning back in her chair she let the hot liquid work on her nerves.-

"It's not that bad Chris.  They won't know. They don't need to know." -She had a rich thought life.  No matter how many times she tried to tell herself that same mantra of self affirmational bullshit though she knew it was a lie before the thought could run its course.  Someone always knew.  There was always someone who could smell you or touch you or just get near you and know - especially when you were dealing with people whose job it was to find out people's deep dark secrets.-

-Swivelling a bit in her chair she brushed back the stray dirty-blonde hair from her face that had somehow managed to escape the severe bun she'd tied the heavy mass of hair into.  No matter what she did her hair was always escaping, on a mission to break rubber bands and get in her way.  Taking another sip of coffee her eyes settled on the Detectives milling around Homicide, those working and those pretending to work.  She could either follow them to the meeting the memo had mentioned or if she saw someone who looked promising she could just ask, and hopefully find herself the recipient of a conversation more awe inspiring than the verbal frenzy whipped up by Officer Dumas.-