galeconrad

[galeconrad]

o p e n  t o ╳ @nycrpstarters​ l o c a l e ╳ a club in manhattan d a t e ╳ may 21st — 1:04am 

This was not his scene. Why he’d let his co-workers convince him to go anywhere but The Dead Rabbit for a pint was beyond him. He was neck-deep in shitty cases and hadn’t seen the surface of his desk in months, and so were they; there was no justification. Evelyn had promised to stay with him, but as soon as they’d entered the lecherous den, she’d peeled away into the behemoth mass of churning bodies and was gone from his sight. Matt barely lasted a half-hour before his hand was up some girl’s skirt (and that girl had promptly dragged him out into the alley for privacy). Lauren ..well, Lauren was now dancing on the fucking bar.

“Fuck this,” he muttered to himself, eyes scanning over top of the crowd for the neon exit sign. That was just about all the bullshit Gale Conrad could stand.

[galeconrad]

( @nate-hayes​ )

Nate begun looking around, eyebrows furrowed in confusion. “Well..” He begun. “Fuck me.” He muttered but remains loud enough to be heard. “Here I thought this was therapy to be honest with ya’.” Nate scratched his head. His confusions shifted into a chuckle. “Who the fuck drinks in silence?” Nate nudged at Gale’s elbow. “Drinking is finding yourself. If it ain’t you, its the drink that’ll do the talking for you.” 

x

He snorted, rolling hazel eyes so hard, only the yolk was visible: “yeah, right — you wish.” He muttered jokingly, hardly able to keep his usual mask of sarcasm and cynicism in check.

“I do,” he snapped back, propping himself up on a wobbly bar stool. “It’s self-medication,” he corrected, jabbing a finger into the center of Nate’s chest. “And all I expect to find is the bottom of a bottle of whiskey and a good night’s sleep.” He gave a wary glare, scooting his elbow away from the other’s. “So, if you go picking around in my brain, you’re gonna be disappointed. It’s just case files and cobwebs.”

[galeconrad]

( @flowerboy-jon​ )

Jon had worked for the flower shop for four years and there weren’t many occasions that he hadn’t designed a bouquet for. His resume included some more rare events, such as orgies and a seance, but he wasn’t there to judge, just to create something beautiful for the people he requested it of him. Jon tended not to think about what was going on outside of that.

“Ok, no p-p-problem!” Jon toned down his cheeriness immediately out of respect for the older male who came in. “What size b-b-bouquet were you t-t’inking?”

x

He leaned against the counter, idly fingering some of the blooms nearby. Begonias reminded him of his grandmother, because she’d always kept them in little boxes on the balcony — along with cooking herbs and spices. Central Park reminded city-dwellers that there was something beyond the cold, slate-gray of their reality, but unless you left the city regularly, it was difficult to get out of that mind-set. Gale considered the young man opposite him; being surrounded by beauty like this everyday? He felt a tinge of jealousy, but Gale knew he was doing what he was meant to do. There was a resolve in that understanding, but also some melancholy. Flowers for the sake of flowers ..what a funny thing.

“I have no idea,” he answered honestly, his fatigue draining all the warmth from his voice. It’d been a long 72 hours. He slapped some cash onto the counter — close to $100 — and looked back up at the kid.

“What’ll that get me?”

[galeconrad]

c l o s e d  t o ╳ @doctormasha​ l o c a l e ╳ e.r. d a t e ╳ may 21st, 11:36pm 

The suspect (though the word “suspect” was like grit in his teeth, because he knew beyond a shadow of a doubt, the man was guilty) had left the scene of the crime on foot (a true coward) with Gale following in pursuit. If he’d been less of a cop, he would have subdued him with warning shot in the back of the leg, but Gale had a pristine work ethic. He believed there was honor in good police work; even the bad guys deserved their day in court. He would only fire his gun if there was dire need to. 

It wasn’t always easy to uphold that ideal.

Through hairpin alleyways and alongside moving cars, Gale eventually saw his opportunity and side-swiped the shooter — they both went tumbling down a grimy stairwell where a few junkies lay in waiting. A wild skirmish ensued, leaving Gale with a bruised rib, a black eye, and a busted lip, but when it was all over, he had the perp in cuffs. The problem was, the perp was in similar shape and making a much bigger deal out of it than was necessary. 

Gale found himself hauling the asshole into the E.R. with little sympathy for his complaints about tight cuffs. 

“Sit,” he barked, steering him into a seat and signaling for the nearest person in a white coat.

“Can I get a little help over here? Apparently, this badass can’t handle a black eye.” But he had no problem gunning someone down in the street over a bag of dust.

[galeconrad]

( @nate-hayes​ )

“Whilst that is character growth right there.. still avoiding.” His head tilted, eyes narrowed, trying to get a read on whether this was the truth or another way to mitigate from the truth. The corner of his lip curved into a smile. “Consider it like a narrative structure.. complex’s are conflicts. You can’t just embrace them, got to reach a resolution.” 

x

“Whilst? Who the hell says whilst?” Gale rolled his hazel eyes playfully, huffing in amusement. “Hey,” he barked suddenly, pointing a stern finger at the author — though his tone was laden with humour. “Quit trying to figure me out, Nate. You’re not going to resolve me, all right?” Gale feigned irritation, turning back to his pint. “It’s my night off. I’m here to drink, not find myself.”

[galeconrad]

( @flowerboy-jon​ )

@nycrpstarters​

Jon absolutely loved his job because he felt like he was doing something good. Being surrounded by beautiful flowers didn’t hurt either, but being able to put other people’s emotions into a gorgeous display aways made him feel giddy. “Welcome in!” He called when the bell rang. “If you need any h-h-help, let me know.” Jon hoped they would need his help, he was dying to make something today.

x

Funerals were part of the job sometimes, and Gale lost sleep when he didn’t pay proper respects. It just wasn’t in him to be cold and unfeeling toward the families of the dead; the reason he had such a high solve rate was because he gave a shit. Truth was, he didn’t pass judgement on his colleagues for keeping a calculated distance; rather, he envied them. 

The bell overhead was cruelly cheerful, and so was the young man behind the counter. 

“Yeah — thanks. I need something.. funereal.” 

[galeconrad]

⌜ •° ✦ °• — HEY!! is that MATTHEW DADDARIO? no, that’s GALE CONRAD, hanging out in MANHATTAN. they’re TWENTY-EIGHT years old and use HE/HIM/HIS pronouns. what do they do here? they’re A HOMICIDE DETECTIVE and they’ve lived here SINCE BIRTH. their favourite thing about the city is THE TAKE-OUT, but they hate TOURISTS. they pride themselves on being DOGGED. - ── ( vera. 31. she/her. cst. ). 

( A  C L O S E R  L O O K )

gale is very loyal and protective of those that he cares about (in his own way), though he has trouble trusting anyone wholly after learning the truth about his parents’ death. the abandonment of his brother doesn’t help this either, and has made it difficult for him to commit to relationships. he tends to put people on trial for wanting to get closer to him and that usually either scares them away or creates animosity. once a relationship is established, however, he holds steadfast to it and won’t deviate. he’s generally amiable, though his scathing wit and blunt way of communicating can sometimes rub people the wrong way. he spent a lot of time pleasing others — his grandparents and brother, his teachers at the academy — and won’t do it anymore. he demands honesty from people, and anything less is grounds for dismissal from his life. his work takes a toll on him, particularly when he sees orphaned children and mental instability. when he’s dealing with particularly difficult cases, he can become withdrawn and argumentative. he may even instigate a fight. he’s got a hawk-eye for false sentiment and can’t stand superfluous bullshit. though he believes in keeping up standards and having a measure of personal pride, those that obsess over these things are usually met with some hostility from him. he is a relatively patient man, and throws himself mercilessly into his work. though he comes off as a bit of a prick (maybe even arrogant) to some, his main motivation is helping people.

( P A R T I C U L A R S )

✗. birthday: april 7 (aries)

✗. middle name: gale — first name is charles (after his mother)

✗. myers-briggs: infj, the advocate

✗. favorite book: norwegian wood by haruki murakami

✗. favorite album: sunset tree by the mountain goats

✗. height: 6′3

✗. marital status: single.

✗. sexuality: demi.

✗. positive traits: compassionate, driven, witty, strategic, charming, empathetic.

✗. negative traits: sardonic, judgmental, self-sacrificing, unforgiving.

( H I S T O R Y )

gale was barely five years old when his parents died in a car crash. not being present, he believed what his grandparents told him — that it was an accident and that his mother had swerved to avoid pedestrians crossing the street. he’d seen photographs of the accident in the newspaper before he was able to read: black and white flames rose up from the crushed front end of a volvo on throgs neck bridge. beyond the crash loomed new york city. his older brother (who was nine years old at the time) had been in the car when it happened, surviving with nary a scratch. kieran conrad had been an exuberant kid. bright and engaging, kind to his kid brother, always involving him and keeping him neatly tucked under his wing. after the car crash, however, he caved in. nightmares hounded his sleep. a sour disposition and a detachment ruled him. even as young as gale was, he noticed the recoil. when he looked in his brother’s eyes from that point forward, he didn’t see grief or even anger. he saw hate.

living with their grandparents wasn’t a hard transition to make. they had been coming over more and more frequently before the crash anyway. gale missed his mother and father, but his young age shielded him from the suffering that plagued those around him. he was adaptable.

though he was the younger child, he got less attention from his grandparents. their focus was forced onto kieran who’d begun to lash out in unpredictable and terrifying ways. it started with fights at school, disobedience, rebelliousness. this led later to staying out all night, fiendish lying, petty crime, and drugs. fearing that he was going to crash and burn just like his mother and father, there were countless interventions, therapy sessions, stays in high-priced rehab centers. despite the chaos, kieran relied on his younger brother for support; their bond was never sullied by outside circumstances. unfortunately, nothing gale did kept his older brother safe and at home where he belonged. all the begging and pleading went unheard. it was like some demon had nestled inside of him, and it demanded self-destruction. when kieran turned 18, he moved out. he was not heard from for 4 long years.

the loss hit gale harder than the loss of his parents. not only did he lose his brother — who even in his darkest moments seemed to harbour a softness for his younger sibling — he became the focus of his grandparents’ worries. they blamed themselves for kieran’s behaviour and tried to compensate by enforcing very strict rules on gale. they were hard on him, constantly demanding he push himself — whatever it took to ensure he didn’t end up like his brother. gale’s grandfather, a world war ii veteran, even employed disciplinary tactics he had learned during his service. because of gale’s malleable disposition, he flourished under the scrutiny and graduated high school at the top of his year. graduation day had been eagerly anticipated if not because it meant freedom, but because it meant embarking on his life’s journey. he had been accepted into the air force academy. joy should have marked that day in gale’s memory, but instead, it was all cast in shadow by a visit from his older brother.

gale spotted him standing at the back of the crowd. a black smudge in a mass of smiling faces. after the ceremony, he cut through the crowd like a determined bullet, ignoring calls of congratulations and pats on the back. kieran was half-way across the parking lot, trying to flee the scene, when his younger brother caught up to him. kieran looked at him with red-rimmed and haunted eyes before expelling a truth that had poisoned him for thirteen years: their parents’ car crash hadn’t been an accident. their mother, charlotte, had slammed her foot on the gas pedal and turned the wheel sharply towards the bridge’s guard rails. she had been struggling with her mental health. it had finally consumed her, and young kieran had witnessed it all from the back seat. gale fell to his knees in shock. for the first time since their death, he cried.

after learning this, gale’s outlook on life grew cynical and bitter. he had to learn how to live with the betrayal of his mother (and that of his grandparents). it became another passenger in his life, glowering at him from across the room, following closely behind him as he walked. the truth changed him. he grew obsessed for a short spell, researching articles surrounding the incident, demanding answers from his grandparents that they simply couldn’t offer. his investigation finally uncovered evidence that his mother had developed manic depression and had been in and out of the hospital for years before she’d died. though gale couldn’t remember specifics before age 5, he could remember stints of her not being around, of her very extensive and weepy goodbyes before she would go. the fleeting hope that kieran was lying, that this was all a nightmare, vanished and left him cold. suddenly, he understood the hell his brother had been marching through all along, and couldn’t understand why he chose to go it alone.

though he graduated from the air force academy with high marks, he did not pursue offers from the fbi, the cia, or special forces. instead, he followed his heart and became a homicide detective in the city he loved. 

[galeconrad]

( @nate-hayes​ )

Lifting the tip of then pen to his face, Nate tapped it against his corner lip momentarily before dropping it again. “Yeah, so, are we going to talk about it?” He gazed upwards, eyebrows raised awaiting a response. “Cause just for your information, avoidance complex is a thing.” 

x

“I’m proud of my myriad complexes,” he rebutted. “They make me ...unique. You’ll grow to accept them in time.”