ArchivedLogs:Glamour Shot
| Glamour Shot | |
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| Dramatis Personae | 2015-04-22 "Plenty a' time to practice." |
| Location
<NYC> NYPD Station - Garment District | |
Despite the fashionable clothing of those outside, almost everyone inside the NYPD station is wearing the same dark blue uniform, gold badges flashing on their chest. A few, however, are in business clothing, and a rare one or two are in crisp white uniforms. The police station is several floors high, each dedicated to a different department, and a rare parking lot in the back where the cruisers and trucks sit. A text message comes to Eric, midmorning on Wednesday.
There is a few minute gap before the text message comes.
It's thirty-seven minutes when Jax arrives, heading down from the subway with his arms loosely crossed over his chest. He's dressed a little more warmly than necessary for the weather, thick brightly coloured knit socks pulled up to his knees over mermaid-scale printed leggings, a crushed velvet skirt, tall chunky stompy iridescent-rainbow boots, blue tee layered over long bell-sleeved one, thick silver-threaded black sweater, a bright blue jacket over that. Mismatched colourful armwarmers. Peacock-bright hair. He stops at the front of the police station, teeth clicking slowly against his lip ring. Out along the curb, a line of police cars sits. Most are empty, but one of them - a large, amulance-body looking thing - is idling in an officer sitting in the front seat. The policewoman's eyes follow Jax as he walks up and looks at the station, and she frowns. The words of her radio call can't be heard outside the thick, bullet-proof metal of the truck - but the response comes quickly. An officer steps out of the front door, one hand on his pistol, glaring at Jax. "There's a warrant out for your arrest, boy." The policeman says, growl in his voice. Jax stops where he is as soon as the door opens. His arms stay folded across his chest, fingers curling firm into the crooks of his arms. His weight rocks back onto his heels, his head dipping in a small nod. "I heard that this mornin', sir," he answers, quietly. "That's why I'm here. Jus' come by t'turn myself in." The police officer's glare doesn't abate. "You ask me," the man grumbles, fingers drumming along the butt of the pistol. "Jail's too good for the likes of you. Attacking innocent women because they don't want their neighborhoods contaminated by you freaks?" The man spits on the front of the steps in front of Jax, a wet, phlegmy blob on the stone steps. "Nobody asked ya, Bates." Eric's voice is sharp, commanding, as he steps out of the building. "Don't ya have somewhere ta be? Off cheatin' on your wife with Jones over there, perhaps? Fuck off, before I write you up for excessive stupidity." Jax's eye dips to the pistol, then lifts back up to the officer's face. His foot slides back an inch or so when the man spits, though he doesn't otherwise move. His jaw works slowly, his breath pulled in and exhaled again slow as well. His gaze shifts to Eric when the door opens again. "I heard there was a warrant out for me, sir," he says again, still quiet if a little bit more stiffly. "I jus' come down here t'turn m'self in." The police officer frowns and he turns to shoot Eric a glare. "Fuck you." "Fuck you, /Sergeant/." Eric demands, matching the other man's glare with one of his own. "Now get lost." Eric steps down the stairs towards Jax, a smile on his face. "Heya, Jax. Don't mind douche-patrol here; he's just bitter that he somehow managed to fail the department physical." Eric claps Jax on the shoulder, flashing a toothy grin. "Come on in, Jax. I'll walk you through processing." "Fail the --" Jax's brows lift, though he doesn't look away from Eric back to the other officer. "I've /seen/ some'a the officers out in patrol cars, I can't imagine it's /that/ rigorous." He only moves again when Eric has approached him, arms relaxing just slightly across his chest as he moves forward into the station. "Rigorous? It's one step more than a walk in the park. Must be too many doughnuts or something." Eric leads Jax into the station, shouldering past the officer. He steps alongside Jax and guides him through the lines of desks and into the back. "I'm sure you know the drill by now," Eric says, pausing in front of a machine. "Fingerprints, please." Eric gestures to the glass platen scanner in front of him. "Where's your lawyer?" "I don't know. /I/ pretty much live on nothin' /but/ deserts an' I'm doin' alright." Jax's movements are noticeably stiff as he uncurls his arms from his chest, a small sharp breath sucked in through his teeth. This is -- not the first time he has done this. Probably not the last either. Kind of rote as he presses his fingers to the scanner. "She'll be here soon." "You should have waited for her before you came," Eric says, reproachfully. "Never turn yourself in without a lawyer nearby, you know? Just ain't a good idea." The police officer watches as Jax fingerprints himself, picking up a clipboard and some paperwork off the desk. Eric hops up onto the counter, putting the clipboard on his leg and beginning to fill out the form. "I've arranged for you ta be held here until your arrangment. Pulled a favor with the desk sergeant. Me'n mine will keep an eye on you ourselves." "I jus' didn't want a repeat of --" Jax's lips press together. He trails after Eric once he is done, standing just as stiffly by the desk. "We've had some other times with the cops kinda destroyin' half of everything at our home. Wasn't keen to wait an' see if they was about to. Do that. Again. Thought sooner was better'n later." He dips his head in a small nod at Eric's words. "Thanks. Do you -- know when that's like to be? The arraignment?" "Sooner than later, yeah. But ya have your lawyer call and tell 'em you're surrenderin' yourself, and make an appointment -- n' come with her." Eric fills in a few fields on the form and bends over to copy something off of the small screen of the machine. "Come on -- photo time," Eric says, hopping off of the table and sauntering into the next room, with height markers painted onto the wall. "Facin' the camera, if you would. I'll get the sign ready," Eric says, putting the clipboard down and picking up the pick-and-place board. "It's alri'. I'm sure you'll get it right next time, yeah?" He flashes Jax a grin. "Plenty a' time to practice." Jax exhales, a quiet laugh. "One'a these days I'll get it down." He lifts a hand, patting lightly at his hair to smooth it into place. A faint shimmer across his face evens out his makeup, adds warmer colour to his pale skin. "How d'I look?" It's a little bit wry as he gets into place, facing the camera. Warm smile. No gloomy mugshot for /him/. Eric laughs as he passes Jax the sign -- filled out with a bunch of information, including his name. "You look gorgeous, honey-honey. Smile for the camera." Eric goes behind the camera and takes a few pictures. He gestures in a spinning motion with his finger and takes another set of Jax's side. Then, grinning, he holds out an arm for Jax to take. "This way, sir. Your room awaits." After depositing Jax safely in a private cell, Eric sits down in a chair and pulls out a phone.
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