rizzopd

[rizzopd]

isn’t that the one they call the war pig? their real name is joseph “joe” rizzo, but they bear such a strong resemblance to david harbour. the forty-four year old, cismale is originally from brooklyn, new york, but moved to las vegas because his family was dodging the mob. they currently work as the chief of police. i can’t help but think of last call at a bar, a dirty police badge, coffee + cigarettes, the feeling after falling off the wagon and drunk fights in a parking lot when i see them. they remind me of that song iron man by black sabbath. ( —cat, 23, est, she/her ) 

birth name: joseph leonard rizzo. nickname: joe, joey, jo-jo, rizzo, etc. age: forty-four. date of birth: november twenty-fourth, nineteen forty-three. zodiac: ♐︎  |  (♏︎  cusp) hometown: brooklyn, new york. current place of residence: las vegas, nevada parents: julianna “julia” rizzo (maternal, deceased) & desmond “desi” lacassio (paternal, whereabouts unknown) siblings: anthony “tony” rizzo (older brother, whereabouts unknown) children: brooklyn “brooke” rizzo (daughter) hair color: dark-blonde. eye color: blue. height: six feet, three inches. build: big & tall. play-by: david harbour. occupation: chief of police. sexual orientation: straight. relationship status: single. drinks: yes. drugs: yes. smokes: yes.

hailing from brooklyn, new york, rizzo was raised by an extremely italian, roman catholic family. we’re talking grandfather-straight-off-the-damn-boat from italy, might as well be a fuckin pepperoni italian. there, he lived in a compact two-story in the city with his grandfather, grandmother, mother, father and six aunts/uncles and older brother. he was youngest of all eight children (in conclusion: he’s baby and has been All Along).

his grandfather had celiac disease that was misdiagnosed as paranoid schizophrenia due to time-appropriate lack of medical knowledge, and was thus continually hospitalized throughout joseph’s early life. though reportedly abusive during his episodes, joey disputes this as he was too young to remember. by age three, his aunt tessie died in an automobile accident.

at age six, his mother and father split. his father was heavily involved in the mob scene and often brought home “dirty money,” though he swore off gang-related activity in his early twenties at the insistence of julia, joe’s mother. with his mother working wherever, however and whenever she could to bring in money, he spent much time with his nonna —– fellas, this man is a highkey certified Grandma’s Boy. he was nonna’s favorite. he would do everything with her; laundry, cooking, help take care of his grandfather, and she even taught him how to play piano (said it built character). with his grandfather on high doses of thorazine (anti-psychotic) by this point, all he could do is pace and smoke cigarettes.

by the age of 10, following in the foot steps of his father and uncles, joey was beginning to get into some bad shit of his own (they say they start younger and younger???? ya’ll need ta RECOGNIZE). when his grandmother found out, she vowed she’d beat him senseless unless he shook himself of his “demons.” he obeyed. as if to reinforce her point, his father was murdered by the mob for dishonesty/unpaid dues just before his thirteenth birthday. he, his mother and his brother relocated to las vegas for fear of being sought after.

in las vegas, joey had no problem making friends. in high school, joey turned to sports to help cope with his anger issues. he was captain of the boxing team.

after high school, joseph turned to law with the hopes of making his mother proud. he worked as a homicide detective for many years before earning the title of chief of police. he’s been the police chief for the last ten years.

joe is an honest man, and not very political. even so, earning the title of police chief came with its own set of trials and tribulations. having taken over office from the previous police chief, there is still a lot of corruption joey is currently trying to overrule. it has in turn made him very unpopular in the eyes of the wealthy. as a result, joey is left to choose between the lesser of two evils in order to maintain balance between classes: which sometimes entails a level of corruption of his own. in short, he is trying to keep from being a scullion to different political influences.

joe has a bad drinking problem. he went through a cocaine period in the 70s, but has since kicked the hard stuff. even so, he is constantly under scrutiny for his behavior. he was even investigated for using confiscated substances though the case trailed cold, and no verdict was ever reached. he maintains he has never once abused his power as a lawman.

joe is the kind to shove you into the wall and then kiss ur head afterwards if we’re being honest. he loves kids, but hates punkassery. as long as u respect him, he’s lenient

joe is brazen and rough around the edges. though short-tempered, he has a strong intuition that is usually dead on. when he finds a lead, he’s like a dog with a bone.

joe has been married exactly once. he has an estranged daughter who also lives in las vegas.

he’s a sagittarrius lmfao

he’s just :( Trying His Best ok :( (he not tho)

[rizzopd]

TAGS !

[rizzopd]

LIL MONSTER.

“DAMN IT!!” the girl groans, running a hand through her hair. “i knew i shouldn’t have closed my books so loud. guess i’ll just camp out behind raz’s house or somethin’. i’ll become a squatter. this wont be the last you see of me, officer.” she rolled her eyes, small smile on her lips. “you weren’t really given the chance to be ‘super dad’ but you were always gonna be my dad, you do know that, right? you kinda have a chance now.” she half teased before knocking on the box softly. “and i dunno, that girl thought pretty highly of you for a long while.”

brooke grinned, shaking her head. “that’s exactly what i’m suggesting, old man. you gonna whip up some ‘happy accident’ grilled cheese?” the girl couldn’t help the loud laugh that spewed past her lips as that comment came out of her mouth. “dude, you’d have way less crime if that were the case. you ever think about that? jesus, i wouldn’t even think about doin’ anything bad.” she chuckled, shaking her head.

“goin’ damn hulk over here. i know you’re scared, but we’re all gettin’ to the same place at the same time. i’ll protect ya.” the girl chuckles, ducking under her father’s arm and passing through the door first. “hey, what’s the prize for the cook off?” she hummed, heading rather quickly to the front door, doing her best not to look back.

❛ ——RAZ? raz jackson? STELLA KING’s kid? he’s still buzzin’ around you? ❜ with a pointed shake of his head, brow furrowed incredulously, he lifts his arm higher to accommodate her height as he balances the door against the tips of his fingers.  ❛ christ . . . kid’s like a bad rash. ❜ unbeknownst to most, he had more than his fair share of fond if not wholly unsuitable memories with stella king. she was a fire cracker in their hayday; they always had good chemistry. it’s no wonder raz and brooke had taken a liking to one another over the years . . . must be something in their genetic makeup. he promptly drops his arm to his side.   ❛ damn kid’s been making googly eyes at you since the day you two met practically. surprised he hasn’t PROPOSED to you by now or somethin’. ❜  he remarks with a knowing chuckle, flitting his gaze to the back of her head as though he may be able to gauge her reaction through her skull. his expression softens at her mention of her opinion of him casting back to a gentler time. he smirks affectionately to himself before his eyebrows ascend, nodding vigorously.  ❛ i should say so. ‘f only that poor girl knew what she knows now, huh? sure it would’a saved her some trouble. maybe a few hand cramps. ❜  he quips self-deprecatingly.  ❛ long as, uh-----y’know, long as she knew somewhere in heart how fondly i always thought a’ her. she was----  christ, she was the LOVE ‘A MY WHOLE LIFE. ‘m serious. girl to write home about. still is, y’know. ❜  he adds, stepping into place beside her and smiling endearingly. 

❛ naaaah. no need, kid---- there’s such thing as mistakes, i just don’t make ‘em. ❜  he retorts in feigned arrogance before a rambunctious chuckle files through his nose. ❛ idin’t such a bad idea. sure’d make policing a helluva lot easier. unfortunately, i’m sure it’d turn a few important heads if tongues start droppin’ like flies. ❜  he retorts as though the idea might was utterly ridiculous.  ❛ but some people, y’know. they have it comin’. ❜  he scratches at his scruffy cheek contemplatively. then, his heavy brow falls.  ❛ YEAH. sad part is, i believe ya—— feel like i created a damn MONSTER. a fearless, man-slaughtering monster with an appetite for ‘happy accident’ grilled cheese and reese’s pieces. almost feel worse for whatever the hell you’re protecting me from. ❜

❛ PRIZE? ‘what’s the pri—-‘ you kids . . . your prize is my unconditional love and admiration, that’s what. and you get it either way, so go easy on me, yeah? ❜

[rizzopd]

* MS. CHILD.

the girl finally felt like the wave of emotions that had rushed through her were mostly at bay again. she took in a deep breath, closing her eyes as she blew it out her nose. she knew this wouldnt be the end of all of this. hell, it was a lot to process and she’d be processing it for a while. mindlessly, she chews on her lip as she brings herself to stand up, collecting a few things in a box for her to go ahead and take home.

home. god, did she ever feel at home. the sense of belonging,the feeling that you are home and you are loved. it was unspoken, usually, but she felt so at home at joe’s place.. their place. the rizzo family home. “hey, uh, dad? and thanks for takin me back in after all this.. i.. know i haven’t been the best er—guest?i was just.. i was settling in. makin it home. thanks for, uh, thanks for—it just really feels like home bein’ there.” she nodded once, small smile over at him.

“we’ll settle it then, you make two grilled cheeses and i’ll make two and we settle who makes the best.” she teased. “i happen to be the julia child of grilled cheeses.’ as he smacked her with the envelope, she chuckled, shaking her head. “hmm, i could see you being the only person ever to eat back licorice.” she teased once again. “probably have a secret stash in your desk drawer, hmm?”

❛ ohhhhh boy----- ❜  he projects with a theatrical sigh, a dramatic shake of his head.  ❛ ----guess now’s as good a time as any to tell ya, i’ve, uh---- been thinkin’ about tradin’ you in. y’know, for somethin’ a little . . . quieter. ❜  he drones sarcastically over the perch of his shoulder before righting himself and situating the box of letters under his arm. she’d been anything but a ‘BAD GUEST’. she treated the property with more respect in her short period of tenure than he has since he bought the damn place. his hand springs deftly to clasp her shoulder for good measure, to emphasize that he had only been joking.  ❛ don’t thank me, ya crazy kid. i should be thankin’ you----- y’know, for. giving me a second chance ‘n all. i know i haven’t exactly been SUPER DAD . . . not even remotely close. but, uh------ y’know, th-- . . . there’s nothin’ more important to me than being your dad. ‘n i want you t’know that. ❜  with a heart felt grin, he squeezes her shoulder affectionately. and as heart palpitates with endearment, he adds,  ❛ good. ‘cause it is your home, kiddo. for as long as you damn well please. ❜ 

he squints his eyes at her proposition, humor riddling the crevices of his expression.  ❛ a GRILL CHEESE-OFF? is that what you’re suggesting? ❜  he questions sarcastically, nodding competitively. then, he pretend scoffs as he adjusts the box under his grasp. he turns to face her, pretending to size her up.  ❛ okay, ‘ms. child’----- you wanna throw down? YOU’RE ON----- ought’a be reminded of who you’re messin’ with, anyway. ❜  he threatens jokingly, shaking his head.  ❛ i’m like the damn---- bob ross a’ grilled cheeses, kid. it’s a fine art. i’ll make you a grilled cheese so TOP-NOTCH, you’re tongue’ll fall off. ❜  his act crumbles under a flurry of laughter that strikes him silly, turning to head for the door after bumping his shoulder into hers lightly, playfully.  ❛ oh yeah? ❜  he asks mid-chuckle in response to her ‘black licorice’ remark.   ❛ tell you what, that hurts, kid---- cuts deep. make no mistake though, that stash ain’t for me---- it’s for PUNKS like you who can’t keep their mouth shut. force feed ‘em. ❜ 

winding down from his laughter with a whimsical sigh, he shakes his head as he shepherds them to the door. he can’t remember the last time he’s laughed like this.  ❛ you’re somethin’ else, kid. c’mon, let’s get the hell outta here. place is startin’ to give me the damn heebie jeebies. ❜  his hand lunges for the door handle to throw it ajar as though unaware of his own strength.

[rizzopd]

* SHERRY.

the feeling of his hand on her bare skin shorted her ability to continue speaking. a blessing and a curse for if she did keep going, trying her best to cover up her almost announcement that she felt joe wasn’t ready to hear yet. sherry, herself, wasn’t even sure she was ready to admit to it or even come remotely close. the warmth of his fingers against the nape of her neck really made her wonder if she maybe should, at this point. GOD…if she was reacting to her oldest friend innocently touching her this way, it really had been too long since she’d been touched by a man – or anyone. her head basically leaned back into his touch, as if she were drifting away and the only thing relevant around her was joe…

when he finally spoke, sherry was having a hard time drawing a full breath. breaking free from her trance she was only able to push out the gentlest of smiles and a light hand on his knee. “as long as i can protect you right back. whether you need me to or not – and i know you don’t, physically need me to protect you but – but i’ll just say i’ll protect you mentally, emotionally and…spiritually.” what the fuck are you saying, sheryl? this really was her life right now? getting flustered, heat rising in her cheeks and finding herself filling a silence with awkward conversation. who IS she? joe’s presence clearly dominated her awareness….but it hadn’t been like this. it wasn’t like this yesterday, was it? what is she missing?

sherry could make up excuses and chalk her feelings up to loneliness but the reasoning didn’t matter. it was clear as day. and as she stood in her kitchen, taking out everything she could to make a hearty omelet for two, she tried to convince herself that her heart wasn’t beating ten times quicker than usual. that she didn’t want him with a desire that wasn’t the least bit rational. but she did. wow, she did…and it didn’t make any sense. sure, he was by far the only man she’d ever felt one hundred percent comfortable with and can trust with her entire life. of course he’d always been handsome and there’s no one else who can make her laugh and at the same time make her feel like she’s going insane like he did…but she didn’t make it a habit of feeling like a teenager with a crush. that had never been sherry. all of her relationships pretty much started as monotonous as they could. after last night it was like everything was coming together. everything was making sense but confusing the hell out of her at the same time. when was the last time someone had affected her on the same level as joe? “so…..” did she already mention she hates silences? this…this wasn’t normal for them. “have you been able to look into john’s file lately?” great choice for morning talk.

joe is not quick to trail in her footsteps. as soon as she departs, their tension following suit, he groans, bowing the crown of his head abashedly. fingers curling into a fist, he grinds his palm into his forehead. his shoulders hurt----- he hadn’t even realized their rigid buckling under the weight of the stress. once upon a time, this would have been a DREAM SCENARIO----- back before cynicism got the best of him, back before the war had mutated him into the tight-lipped, tongue-tied, teeth-gritting EX-MARINE he is today. back when words flowed sweeter and more fluidly than brandy, a gentler time when he was inflated by youthful complacency---- it had long expired now, turned sour. the passage of time had incorporated his sullenness, his dispassion into part of his bittersweet charm that served him only in landing him a free night in a bed far from home. this is different. she isn’t some floozy would all but be thrown to the wind save for a few dubious and drunken memories of their romp in the sack. this is----- SHERRY GRAYSON: best friend and, to be frank, love of his life since he was tenderly thirteen years old. he had NEVER been good enough for her----- and the fact remains. for here he is, collecting himself off her floor from the mound of sniveling flesh she disintegrates him to with just one bat of her lashes.

stubbing out the cigarette and discarding the carcass properly, he musters up the courage to take her lead, trudging groggily down her hallway while a large finger works at the inside of his tear gland. dropping his hands, eyes meandering the corridor, he halts involuntarily with an exhale in front of a picture frame that absently caught his attention. it’s a picture of them----- in their youth, of course. bowing his head so that his lofty frame can accommodate the difference in height, he squints into their youthful faces. the memory induces a quick, yet heartfelt chuckle expelled through his nostrils. he slopes his head, endeared by the image . . . it may have been a lifetime ago, but the memory is vivid, burnt into his brain by the cattle prod of his nostalgic heart. his grin is warm, strong enough to convey his laugh lines. just a couple of stupid kids. ‘assholes’. he almost thinks to pry it off the wall.

then, smile waning as his mind churns endlessly, he continues his trek until reaching the threshold of the kitchen. and he stops. and he watches her, blinking profusely, valves of his heart coaxing into an unsteady rhythm. it’s a blast from the past, tinged with a fantasy he had compartmentalized into a dusty box labeled ‘OLD PIPE DREAMS’. he slumps his shoulder against the threshold of the door quietly so as not to alert her to his presence, foot crossing the other for balance, hand pushed into his pocket. it’s a sight for the sorest of eyes, a scene that made him almost grateful for all the horrible things he had seen in the duration of his life. domestication------ he searched high and low his entire life looking for home, for somewhere to belong; and after twenty years of silence, he had found it. guess they were right. home really is where the heart is.

his lofty frame sways almost imperceptibly at an urge he had nearly fulfilled on autopilot. the urge to come up from behind her, take her waist in his large hands and kiss------ okay, there it is. there’s the line. joe lands face first back on planet earth with a deep exhale, and a scowl out the nearest window. he adjusts his foot to propel himself off the threshold and grant himself further access into the room. ambling over to the radio, he flicks it on with an effortless finger, turning the dial until a familiar, static-y tone greets him to the ‘oldies’ station. he cringes at the label, feeling his age full force. ‘OLDIES BUT GOODIES’------- that’s what they are now.

with her feeble ‘so . . .’, he meanders toward the refrigerator to slump his shoulder against it, eyes probing her profile expectantly before they flit to inspect her nimble fingers busy at work. the moment the question punctures the silence, he inhales deeply, eyes snapping elsewhere. he clears his throat at the mention of john, shoving his hands in his pockets uncomfortably as he settles back against the fridge. nodding, gaze fixed hell bound, he crosses his feet.  ❛ yeah . . . yeah, i, uh------ i looked into it. ❜  he retorts gruffly, remaining intentionally vague as he tilts his head to scratch at his beard.  ❛ didn’t tell me much that i didn’t already know, truth be told. ❜  he furrows his heavy brow, hand swiping down his beard contemplatively.    ❛ y’know, these guys’re------ they’re good. real neat. ‘s to be expected. ❜  his socked foot brushes against the linoleum absently before he opens his mouth to speak again.  ❛ listen, uh . . . sher. you, uh----- . . . i know. that you want answers. hell, i’d like a few damn answers myself, but . . . i don’t want you to get the wrong idea. these things, they take---- years to unravel. years and years, if ever------ ❜  he fumbles to a stop. he doesn’t want to disappoint her---- but these were the facts. honesty is the best policy, right? and at this reminder, he steps with alarming grace into his BIG COP persona, straightening broad shoulders.  ❛ ----i jus’. want you to be aware of what exactly we’re playin’ at, here. these aren’t some toothless simpletons from the outskirts, these are---- these are big names. we’re talkin’ BIG MONEY . . . okay?  we’re doing the best we can. i know i tend to resemble an older, fatter parker stevenson from THE HARDY BOYS in some angles, but i can’t promise i’m gonna be able to blow the lid off this thing. ❜

[rizzopd]

* BROOKE.

“she.. meant well. i know she did.. well, with most things. i just—i can get into most people’s heads and understand why they did it, but i don’t.. i can’t wrap my mind around this. i think it’s open to interpretation. i’m not going to choose sides. i just need to figure out things for myself. ” she nodded her head softly. “i.. i’m sorry you never got them.” the girl chewed on her bottom lip, brushing her hair out of her face. god, she was exhausted. emotionally. physically. the young rizzo lifted her fingers up to rub her temples, closing her eyes while she did so. in all honesty, she’d probably fall asleep on the couch tonight with a movie on in the background.

brooke chuckled softly as she felt her father’s hand ruffle her hair, gently knocking her head into his hand. she missed him, she really did. it hadn’t sunk in until now how much. sure, the girl blamed a lot on him, things he did know and things he didn’t and that wasn’t very fair. then again, life wasn’t fair and most things brooke went through weren’t fair. ‘love you, kiddo’. a small smile played at her lips as the girl played with her fingers in her lap. she nodded her head. “yeah. love you too. thank you for being here.”

it was like brooke was a child again, curling up against her father with a small content smile on her lips and a chuckle slipping past them. he always had made her feel safe. the two had been separated for so long, but the feeling seemed to almost instantly come back. she always felt safe with him. a small laugh slipped past her lips as she shrugged. “im thinkin’ grilled cheese—that i can make so you wont burn it. maybe some popcorn and reese’s pieces.. anythin’ but black licorice.”

lips furled into a contemplative line, he nods slowly as though it may help him digest it all. cecilia had her fair share of character flaws . . . there were more than a few colorful adjectives that could be used to describe her as far as he’s concerned. but remaining as NON-PARTISAN as absolutely possible is imperative to the welfare of he and brooke’s rekindled relationship. she’s right. brooke, in all of her surprising sagacity, sought after fundamental truth. she’s always been curious. and why the hell shouldn’t she be? deciphering cecilia was like cracking the davinci code; it was a full-time job from which he had pointedly resigned a long time ago. and as for him? well. cecilia and joe were certainly a match made in HELL in their hayday. joe was the epitome of a jackson pollock piece; confusing, open to interpretation, highly emotional: someone to be experienced rather than taken at face value.

blue hues dart in a distrait fashion around the room as his fingers anxiously writhe against the envelope in his hand. her brightness really does exceed her age. she grew up too fast ---- and that’s his own doing. partially, anyway. nonetheless, it has always been a cross that he bears like a gaudy accessory, just one of the many now-arsenal of skeletons in his closet. it was a torch that he had never intended to pass down, but had done so anyway. with a sharp inhale, a crisp sniff, he strives to keep his gaze hell bound as he begins encouragingly,  ❛ you will, kid. ❜  as he meets her gaze, weary blue meeting wearier blue, there’s a pang of guilt that floods him. it’s like peering at his own reflection. he heaves a breath, snapping his gaze back down.   ❛ ----y’know, time’s a, uh . . . it’s a funny thing----- lotta things start makin’ sense after a while. long as your not keen on watching the pot boil, that is. ❜   promptly probing at a box with the toe of his boot as he punctuates his sentence, he reviews the mounted clutter all around him. he crooks his head, scratching at his beard with profuse blinking. she’s her father’s kid alright, by nature of course; but by NURTURE . . . she was a person in her own right, shaped by her own experiences. and he would respect that. in fact, he encourages it.   ❛ yeah. . .yeah, y’know----- more i think about it, guess it really is all your fault. ❜  his solemnity cracks away as he jests in an endeavor to lighten the mood, a smile tugging to his lips as he flicks his eyes in her direction.

his heart is in full-fledged DISCO at her reciprocity. her smile, no matter how feeble, makes her look four years old again in his eyes, teasing his nostalgic heart into a bittersweet clutch.  ❛ pffff. you kiddin’? least i can do, kid. can’t turn back the clock now, might as well start . . . dealin’ with the BACKLOG . . . at some point. ❜  he retorts gruffly, directing his gaze to the envelope pinched in his hand. he shakes her shoulders in his arm, planting another kiss to her head for good measure before his arm slinks away like a retreating snake.  ❛ hey----- hey now, before you start in on me, sister, i think you might like t’know that i make a MEAN GRILLED CHEESE these days. ‘n i have references, a’right? ❜  he teases, feigning defense. he whaps her with the envelop in his hand before rising to his feet and tossing it in the box.  ❛ black licorice. the hell you even gotta say that for, anyway? waste a’ damn breath. rather chew on the sole of my shoe. ❜  he leans down to collect the box of letters in his arm. 

[rizzopd]

* APRIL.

April let out a huff of air. Somewhere during their conversation, she had tensed up. Her jaw clenched, and her shoulders were almost painfully hunched. She was generally confident by nature, but had been riled past that point, and was taking almost everything she said as a personal insult crafted especially for her. “Well I wasn’t going to day the ‘P’ word, but since you brought it up,” she said with a shrug, unable to prevent a small smirk playing around her lips. “I’m twenty-one,” she admitted, grudgingly, knowing it would not help her protests that she was fully grown. That was the annoying thing about the middle-aged; unless you had worry lines on your face and greying hair, it was impossible to be taken seriously. “Yeah, cause you really look like you could be my dad,” she pointed out, sarcastically. “Tales of woe?” she repeated, incredulously. For a moment, she thought about arguing with him some more, but quickly thought better of it. The quicker she got this report filed, the quicker she could leave, he could do absolutely nothing about her complaint, and she could return to her life. “Some guy snatched my purse two hours ago in the alley behind Ain’t Misbehavin’ while I was having a smoke. That about covers it, right?” She leaned back in her chair, tossing her braids behind her as she did so. “Look, I just need a police report so I can claim on the insurance for the bag. It’s my mom’s and I need to replace it before she realises it’s gone.” 

scoffing indignantly, he scowls, averting his gaze in profuse blinking. he raises his elbow to scratch the skin of his scruffy cheek with his thumbnail.  ❛ chhhhyeah----- sounds about right. ❜ he grumbles, swiping a stiff hand down the length of his bearded jaw.  ❛ well, y’never know----- i mean, the seventies were a strange time, can’t even remember half of it----- ‘s a possibility. don’t be so quick to lose hope. ❜  he derides before musing at his own remark, the idea of having multiple LOVE CHILDREN suddenly striking him dumbfounded. he’s slept with his fair share of women, all shapes, sizes, pigments----- it wouldn’t surprise him if . . .  ❛ YEAH. tales of wo------ !  ❜  he begins fervently before--- whoa. he snaps his jaw shut, squaring it and averting his gaze as she unleashes like a dam. fingers curling inward to ball into a fist, which he bumps repeatedly into the arm of his chair, he allows her to prattle on. where was this fifteen minutes prior to this very moment? pleating his lips defiantly, he peels his torso from the crook of his chair, rolling himself forward with strong legs so that he can tap the surface of his desk impatiently with large fingers, splaying them upright once she punctuates her anecdote.  ❛ yeah--- i’d say so, save for the burning question of, ‘why the hell didn’t you say so from the start?’ jesus, you kids . . .❜  he carps, pinching the bridge of his nose with such vigor he may break it. then, with hands lowering repeatedly in the gesture of ‘calm down’ if only to coax his rising blood pressure, he closes his eyes.  ❛ okay . . . okay, ❜  he concedes, flitting the lids of his eyes open to catch her gaze.  ❛ i’m sorry. alright? let’s just---- settle down. nothin’ a few rounds of KUMBAYA can’t solve, i’m sure. ❜  he leans forward to procure a pen from his pencil holder. he clicks the pen punctually.  ❛ any chance you got a good look at the guy? ❜

[rizzopd]

@NetflixANZ: Grass Hopper.

[rizzopd]

chief jim hopper in every scene — 6/?

[rizzopd]

DAUGHTER.

she glanced over. “i feel like my life is some crappy tv show where i’ve lost my memory or somethin’ and now im havin’ to talk to anyone and everyone to gain it back. it’s a bit exhausting being the main character, you know. i should probably.. make a list or somethin’—about everyone i need to have my own opinion about.. not my mothers and no offense, but not yours either. i need to make up my own mind.” she watched as her father stood and nodded her head softly. “yeah, that would probably help. i—thanks, dad.” brooke nodded her head once again, chewing on her bottom lip softly as she let out a soft sigh. her fingers lightly brushed against another box, slowly pulling it closer to her before pushing it back away.

“do you think we could stop after this room—or just stop now and just come back another time to clean the rest? not that im not having a blast—believe me, i am.. but i just.. feel like maybe it would be a good idea to just make the couch home for the night with a ton of snacks.” brooklyn chuckled slightly, shrugging her shoulders.

❛ yeah . . .  ❜  was his only clever response. he nods intently, mulling over her frankly sagacious point. he chews on the inside of his lip viciously in an attempt to muster some form of appreciable feedback. then, with a quirk of his brow, he responds decisively with a scoff,  ❛  SMARTER than i am, kid. too smart for your own good. ❜  his eyes flit to measure her reaction. with a crisp sniff, he pinches the bulb of his nose, glancing away. his hands find his hips as he searches the proximity in a desperate effort to locate his lines for this next part----  ❛ about that, kid---- what you said. y’know, i don’t----- wanna . . . change your opinion. or anything. the way you FEEL, i mean. about. your mom, it’s------ she had a good heart. a lot a history, though. ❜  he explains, splaying his hand palm-up pointedly as though he were balancing the delicate point in his hand.  ❛ lotta stuff’s gonna be comin’ out, into the light, i mean, y’know----- stuff i prolly don’t even know about. hell, woman was a god damn mystery. and i just----- want y’to know that---- i’m here. no matter what you feel. don’t want you to feel like you have to---- choose sides. ❜  he bows the crown of his head to knead the lids of his eyes with his thumb and forefinger soothingly before dropping it, blinking to clear his momentarily fogged vision. he knew what it was like---- one parent disappears and the fools rush in. his own mother had been scorned, and he’d never heard the end of it.

that label----- ‘dad’. god, he hadn’t been called that in years. how heavenly the sound. it makes his heart swell in the otherwise empty cavity of his chest. he decides it’s his favorite name for himself as he leans down to tousle her hair affectionately.  ❛ love you, kiddo. ❜  he declares, the first time in a long time he hasn’t cringed at his own use of that ill-fated ‘l’ word. he rights himself, maneuvering around her through the clutter and crouching to examine a box. filled to the brim with old letters. damn pack-rat. absently, he begins to rifle through them, squinting at his own handwriting on crinkled and matured paper. with a sharp inhale, he glances away, obviously uninterested in revisiting such poignant memories. he hoists his lofty frame to a standing position, nudging another box with the toe of his boot. then, when she speaks, he ambles over to her, crouching again beside her.  ❛ 'course, sweetheart. whenever you’re ready. anything you need. ❜  clasping a hand around her shoulder opposite to him, he pulls her into his burly chest, planting a kiss to the top of her head.  then, after a beat . . . ❛ what kinda SNACKS we talkin’, anyway? ❜  he mumbles into her hair, smirking incorrigibly. 

[rizzopd]

* SHERRY.

“YOU!? if looks could kill…that girl would have murdered me after that. never invited me to one of her parties again —- of course, i still showed up.” sherry added with a crinkle of her nose and a soft laugh. “y’know…i….wow, i think i felt so bad that night that that’s where my love for gardening stems. now i’m makin’ up for the one i ruined.” she shook her head. these two could O.D. on nostalgia right about now. and lately too. their past came up in almost every single one of their conversations since they came back into each other’s lives. so much time was wasted in between them not speaking that this was expected. sherry’s no therapist but she does connect it to that time lost and how much they both did miss each other…even though they barely say it to each other. that and much more...much, much more…

damn the silence. on any other day, sherry’s fine with sharing comfortable silence with company – but that’s the thing, this silence wasn’t comfortable. there was something looming overhead. an elephant in the room, as some might say…and it wasn’t being addressed. it didn’t want to be addressed. neither of them wanted to bring it up and maybe it was better if it wasn’t brought up? sherry knows she’ll fixate on it. it’s hard not to. but just what exactly did she say to him? what’s he trying to avoid? as far as her memory is serving her right now, he just…chuckled and could have connected it to drunk mumbles. joe’s gentle yet scruffy voice pulling her away from her thoughts as her sight landed on him just for a second. eyes glued to the open door ahead as a soft smile appeared on her coffee soaked lips…up until THEY came into the conversation. “so THAT’S how i got ya to stay. man, i mean – it’s not like i lied. i-i didn’t lie, THEY’RE a big problem but…” sherry looked over at him again, eyes scanning his features as a hint of worry entered her. she didn’t want joe to look too much into her reasons behind him staying with her. she didn’t want him to assume that’s how she…how she got him into bed. manipulation tactics, that’s not what she was trying to do. and she was surely not trying to piss him off this early although it wouldn’t be unheard of. she just didn’t know if this was the right time for him to know she wanted him to stay with her…because she just wanted him to stay with her. “but…you did make me feel safe. as always, joe. you always make me feel safe.”

it was getting a tad too mushy for their “norm” in there and sherry practically jolted up once she got the green light to start making breakfast. head tilting to the side with a low hum of a chuckle. “first of all, it’s never too early for meatloaf and second – there’s no such thing as a diet under my roof.” sherry shook her head already making way toward her kitchen. feeding him was the least she could do after last night and maybe it can either help clear up the uncomfortable air surrounding them or maybe help ease into the conversation…it was still pretty confusing to her. “how do you like your eggs anyway, you big, blonde ape?”

❛ listen, sister----- you don’t ‘ave to tell me anything. i mean, who the hell you think was luggin’ you home by your bootstraps when all was said and done, anyway? ❜  he carps in jest, nodding his head emphatically before his impish grin is resurrected. back when the world was their own private joke, he’d had more than his fair share of practice in honing the skill of sherry-wrangling----- it was nice to know he still had it in him.  ❛ yeah. nice. real nice. from green in the face to green in the THUMB, ❜  he muses aloud, evidently amused by the irony.  ❛ you’re the god damn eighth wonder of the world, you know that? ❜  he jests, blue hues peering to inadvertently admire her facial features. her doe eyes. her neat little nose. those lips, the same that have chewed joe out more times than he could tally---- the same lips he’d dreamed of planting his own on . . . he admires a beat longer than his liking, and it’s obvious---- for he scowls at himself, blinking profusely as he forcibly unfastens his gaze from her. earth to joe? come in, joe? sheepishly, he scopes the perimeter of the room, as though his stage directions were written in the walls somewhere. ‘pull yourself together, joey.’

he chews anxiously at the inside of his lip as the silence encapsulates them, tapping the pads of his fingers against the porcelain of the mug in an effort to break the monotony. boy, this is rough. had it ever been like this, in the past? perhaps when they first met---- and even then, it was fleeting. after their very first, admittedly HEATED encounter, joe took an almost instant liking to her. she’d put him in his place; and as much as he had hated it, it had implanted the hope somewhere in the deep, dark recesses of his mind that she’d be there to put him in his place forever. enamored as he was, he had eased quite gracefully into the constructs of FRIENDSHIP. his crush dissipated, but his love and respect for her had only slowly solidified. mounted . . . until---- well. here they were; back to square one. a vicious, vicious cycle it was.

❛ hey----- come on . . . ❜  he begins prematurely, fingers sprouting up to begin facilitating the sign of ‘defense’, as though she may harp on him for having to ‘convince’ him to stay. but it was preposterous, wasn’t it? that he had stayed in the first place? that he would so easily agree to the idea without some CONVINCING? and just as he’s about to verbalize a diluted version of his conviction, her own confession stunts his pattern of thought in its tracks. lie . . . why would she----- ‘but’? ‘but’ what? features now tainted by his own naivety, a single brow perched to indicate his confusion, he meets her gaze. wait. surely that didn’t have . . . a deeper meaning, did it? the realization hits him like a frying pan upside the head, so unexpected that he thinks he may need to lie down a second. if he didn’t know how to navigate the sacred grounds of this holy-hell scenario before, consider the probability now wholly impossible. how the hell was he supposed to respond to that? fingers anxiously adjusting his grip of the mug, something stirs in his gut---- he tries to tell himself it’s only hunger, but . . . could it be? . . . butterflies? could a grown man fall prey to those still? had she wanted him to stay for . . . other reasons? reasons that, perhaps . . . mirrored his own? ‘YOU’RE JUMPING THE GUN,’ warns the cynic in him, but . . . was he? he’s a cop, for god’s sake------ he puts puzzles together for a living, why the hell was this so difficult?

‘you always make me feel safe.’ squaring his jaw, glancing up at the ceiling, he then shifts his gaze to her. his chin is positioned with a confidence that seemed elusive only moments ago. and after a beat of letting the thought hang between them, he decidedly exchanges the coffee mug between his hands, lunging the hand closest to her to the nape of her neck.  ❛ hey------- and i always will, . . . long as i can help it. i promise you that. ❜  he bores his gaze adamantly into her profile. with a sliver of a smile, he scrunches her brunette locks in his hand gently. was it too much? probably. but it was genuine. he’d done his best in protecting her, even in knowing she could handle herself. even in knowing it went against her wishes sometimes, he was always waiting in the weeds--- waiting for the punch she couldn’t take. no matter how confusing and convoluted the situation is, they would always be partners in crime. and in TIME, well . . . partners in-------

winding down from his complacency, he can suddenly feel the staleness between them. it irks him. he hates these situations. awkward, uneasy------- it made him feel sixteen again. when she rises, he’s whipsawed between grateful and ungrateful. but he obliges, rising to his feet with a grunt. he smirks despite his instincts at her reference, consoling the pulsation in his head by raising the two fingers clutching the now-butt of his cigarette. shaking his head at the domesticity of it all, he retorts,  ❛ in the style of sherry grayson----- hold the chunks, if you would. ❜

[rizzopd]

* WISE ASS.

the girl pulled her knees to her chest, cheek resting against her knees as she looked over at her father. the smallest of smiles on the corner of her lips as she closed her eyes. she had a million favorite memories with her father, she just never really thought about them. she loved nights where they’d stay up way past her bedtime just to curl up on the couch with a movie on. nine times out of ten the two would fall asleep before the movie was even half way through. she could remember him reading to her before bed or taking her for drives down the street with the windows down.

“i.. you’re going to read them? i’m gonna go ahead and apologize for spelling and my god awful handwriting.” the girl chuckled, opening her eyes once again to look over at him. she shrugged her shoulders, tucking a strand of hair behind her ear. “mom talked about her a lot.. well the two of you—kinda.” she nodded, shrugging. “i don’t remember a lot about a lot of the people i’m just now kinda seeing again.” brooke chewed on the inside of her cheek, her palms rubbing her tired, sore eyes. “when.” she shrugged.

❛ you bet your ass i’m gonna read ‘em, ❜   he retorts mid-chuckle, leaning into her excitement. it’s positively uplifting, endearing----- HEART-WRENCHING to know how much it means to her. because it means a lot to him too, more than she knows----- more than he shows. validation after years and years of dejection could change a man.  ❛ you think your hoity-toity law professors won’t cut you a break? you ain’t seen nothin’ yet, sister. ❜  he kicks her shoe lightly with his own to emphasize his joke. he doesn’t care if they’re written in JAPANESE----- only that she had written them, for his eyes. he thinks his heart might burst. he chuckles with her, a hearty chuckle that makes his shoulders judder. then, with a jovial sigh, winding down from the emotional roller coaster, he scratches at his nose with his thumbnail, arms perched against bent knees, feet criss-crossed. 

❛ yeah . . . your mom, uh---- always had a bug up her ass about sherry. ❜  he eyeballs her, gauging whether or not the topic was appropriate to discuss with her. not because it’s GAMY---- but because it’s . . . complex. he doesn’t want anything taken out of context. he resolves to maintaining his silence. he shrugs light-heartedly.  ❛ ‘s okay. just means we gotta jog your memory, ‘s all. no one’s asking you to raffle off names and demographics or anything. ain’t a quiz. ❜   the grizzly bear offers one of his rare smiles in compensation. this is good for them---- CLARITY. a luxury that couldn’t otherwise be afforded even if he had all the money in the world. it was cathartic. he maintains his smile, shaking his head.  ❛ wise ass. ❜  he quips offhandedly, palm finding the floor to propel him off the floor.  ❛ think we oughta handle one family affair at a time, if that’s alright with you. don’t want you---- spraining a frontal lobe inhaling all of this at once. ❜   with a grunt, he’s on his feet, glancing around.  ❛ think your pack-rat of a damn mother oughta entertain you for at least a month, if not a lifetime. ❜

[rizzopd]

* BROOKE.

for a while, brooke stared down at the letters in her hands, her thumb swiped over the name and address, biting down on her lip. she put them all back in the  box, except for one and closed it, handing it over to him. “i.. remember writing this one.” she nodded, hitting the bright yellow envelope against her hand. her handwriting was neater than the other ones she had written and everything was delicately placed. “i wrote it on the kitchen table.. and for a while while i was trying to figure out what to put, i got bored and carved out a b in the table.” she nodded, chuckling softly. “i got in a lot of trouble for it too. brooklyn julia rizzo, you get your ass in here right now and tell me what gave you the bright idea to carve into my table?! ” she mimicked, chuckling with a small shake of her head.

she continued to tap her fingers against the envelope, lips pursing as she kept her eyes down. “it was sophomore year…i was asking if i could spend the summer with you. i never—..i never hated you or resented you, i think. i think i was hurt and confused. i did.. i did blame you for a lot of things and now that im older, i understand a little more.. hell, finding these makes—.. anyway.” she shrugged her shoulders, placing the envelope on top of the box. “i’m sorry she kept them.”

“did…—i, uh, you think if she would have sent those letters out, things woulda been different? i know the whole back to the future shit is bullshit and you can’t change what’s happened in the past, but.. hell, i probably wouldnt want to go to law school.. anyway, i don’t know. i thought about it a lot. if.. can.. you grew up around here? it would uh.. maybe you can show me, uh—like where you grew up and..family stuff, i guess.”

baby blues gloss over the unopened letter in his hand, tapping it with his thumb boyishly before throwing it in the keep pile. his gaze flits to her, and then the singled out envelope in her hand. brow furrowed, he meets her gaze before extracting it from her hand. he flips the lip of the envelope open, pausing briefly---- not here. he’d read it in the solace of his solitude, where he can mourn their past relationship (or lack thereof) properly. he flips the lip back over, sealing it. then, cracking a grin at her recollection, chuckling at her impression, he turns to meet her gaze.   ❛ always were your FATHER’S kid, y’know. no denyin’ it. used to---- drive your mother crazy. ❜  he taps his thumb against the envelope rhythmically, grinning down at the memory.    ❛ ‘specially when you were a baby. you------ ❜  he falls pray to a bout of laughter,  ❛ ----you gave that woman a run for her money, that’s for damn sure. ❜  grin still plastered to his expression, he shakes his head.  ❛ ‘raise hell, kid’----- used to say that to you all the time. your mother practically had a stroke when you started getting old enough to say it back. ‘raise hell, then run like hell.’ ❜

when cecilia’s water broke, he was out on an urgent call. he’d arrived while she was in labor, had burst through the door the moment brooke was delivered---- had burst into tears when he saw her scrunched little face for the first time. it was the happiest day of his life. and when they put the pink bundle of her in his arms, she had stopped crying immediately----- always in sync, these two. it drove cecilia nuts, but brooke had always preferred her dad when she was younger. they had a bond that ran deeper than face value. they did everything together---- some nights, she’d refuse to go to bed until he came home to read her, her nightly book. and it was mutual. if he got home late, sure enough, he’d creep into her room, run the risk of waking her all to just kiss her forehead---- always against cilia’s wishes. cilia had always been jealous of how close they were. probably why she outed him the first opportunity she saw. he adored her, and she adored him. and when custody was declared, it had quite literally RUINED him.

he nods at her explanation, glancing down with a furrowed brow. he understood. truly, he did. he had been under cilia’s thumb at one point, too. she had a way of getting into your head, distorting reality with such finesse that you could hardly recognize she was even doing it until it was too late.  ❛ i know, kiddo. ‘s not your fault. ❜  he leans to retrieve the box of letters.  ❛ hell, least she could’ve done. ❜  he flips them with his thumb before placing the box atop the ‘keep’ pile.  ❛ i, uh----- can’t wait t’read ‘em. i mean it. ❜  and he would. every last letter.

joe knew his answer. it’d change everything. give him some small semblance of hope even, that she still cared for her dear old dad. would’ve saved his liver from many a’night of heavy drinking. would’ve changed the whole course of joe’s development, surely. outlooks, perceptions----- but it was in the past. now they had the future, untainted and unsoiled. exhaling out his nostrils, he blinks profusely.  ❛ y’know, to be honest with you, sweetheart, i don’t wanna think about it. ❜  he admits, shaking his head.  ❛ lotta things would’a changed if i knew then what i know now. your mom---- she, uh. she really did a number on me . . . on the both of us, i’m sure. ❜

❛ ----yeah. yeah, i did. i, uh-----  ❜  he exhales, scratching at his cheekbone with his thumbnail.  ❛ moved here from NEW YORK with your grandmother and your uncle tony when i was----- thirteen? i think. shit. so long ago, i can hardly remember. ❜  he snorts, glancing down and searching the floor as though doing so would jog is eidetic memory. he glances up,  ❛ lived just a few houses down from your auntie sherry. you ‘member your auntie sherry? ❜  she’d met her once or twice, he was almost positive. never for very long, if so. after brooke was born, he’d see sherry only if he were lucky enough to bump into her. cilia would never have let the affair extend past polite introductions.  ❛ ‘nyway, y’know, i’d, uh. i’d love to, kiddo. just say when. ❜

[rizzopd]

© New still of David Harbour as Jim Hopper in Stranger Things S2.

[rizzopd]

* BROOKE.

she had only just started crying, but brooke was already exhausted. she assumed keeping everything in would keep her from feeling this way but it only seemed to have made things worse. she was a strong girl. she was a rizzo for god’s sake and she never wanted to seem weak. she gnawed on her bottom lip softly, slowly pulling away as she grabbed some of her mother’s things and sat back down on the floor with them in front of her. she glanced up at him and silently just placed a hand beside her where she wanted him.

it was silent. only a few sniffles here and there were heard and brooke was quick to use the back of her hand to wipe any tears that managed to slide down her cheeks. brooke didn’t want to keep a lot. maybe some earrings and a few small things here and there, but if neither wanted it, it was quick to go into the donate or trash pile.

as the pile got smaller and smaller, the girl pulled a small letter box out, brows furrowed as she placed it on her lap, taking the lid off. a small chuckle slipped past her lips as she pulled out a drawing or two that she had made when she was younger, holding it out for her father to look at. “fuckin piccaso over here.” she joked, shaking her head as she used the back of her hand to rub her nose softly. “these were all shitty, i dont know why she kept em. you can have—” the girl stopped, brows furrowing tighter together.

she pulled them out one by one. his name and address in her messy handwriting sprawled onto several envelopes. all were stamped and ready to go, but why were they here and not with her father. “i uh.. you never got these?” she asked softly, holding them up as she glanced over to him. “these are… these are from years ago.” she nodded, fingers flipping through the box until she just decided to dump out the whole thing, sorting through them quickly. “she said she gave them to you. i,, uh—none of these got to you…?”

he pleats his lips, relenting when she resists in lieu of looking through her mother’s items. he pointedly keeps her under close scrutiny as she situates herself on the floor. then, with a sliver of a small smile, a nod, he obliges, tousling her hair as he seats himself next to her. sprawling out in as much space as he had to work with with a grunt, he resolves to keeping his knees bent in front of him, accidentally kicking the box in adjusting himself. he scoots his legs in by wrapping his arms around his shins, wiggling back, eyes probing the side of her face as she sniffled, reviewed, wiped tears. he flits his gaze elsewhere, allured by a white, frilly book that sat in one of the boxes. reluctantly, he lunges his wrist forward, procuring it. it’s labeled ‘wedding photos’. he grazes his thumb over it before he’s alerted to brooke’s findings by the sound of her chuckle.

adjusting his legs to sit indian-style, he cranes his neck over to steal a glimpse before gently tugging the paper from between her fingers. his face instantly lights up at the drawing---- he recognizes the figure: it’s him; a distorted version of him, anyway---- bearded, at least twelve feet tall, blonde ---- in uniform. a proud smile railroads his expression as though she had just drawn it.  ❛ ‘fuckin’ picasso’----  ❜  he echoes in agreement with a rhythmic nod, chuckling along with her.  ❛ got the size of my HEAD just right, i’ll give you that. ❜  he says, gesturing with a finger to his watermelon-sized head. a chuckle evades him involuntarily as he swipes a thumb along her signature at the bottom. his brow hardens, suddenly impaled through the heart by a strong sense of guilt - he could never seem to shake it. she’d probably drawn it out of memory. probably justified his absence with his ‘super cop’ occupation. he flips to the next drawing, two stick figure versions of them holding hands. he huffs a chuckle out his nostrils, grinning half-heartedly. he wished he’d been there to hang it on the fridge.

attention torn from the drawing, he tosses them in the ‘keep’ pile, planning to frame them for his office. then, he cranes his neck to see what’s piqued her interest this time. he squints at the letters, trying to recognize them----- but he doesn’t. he shakes his head. he grows solemn----- very solemn. the lengths cilia went to shield her from him, as if he were some MAD MAN. the affect would never be lost on him. irritation mounting, he reaches for one, vetting the front of it. there were dozens upon dozens. the hollowness subsides, anger taking its place . . . but he keeps his cool. years and years of making a point to weasel his way in, doing whatever it takes to maintain a relationship with his daughter. ESTRANGED, feeling as though she had never been nor would ever be receptive ---- but it was him, all along. he was the bad guy. and not even by his own doing.   ❛ must’ve hurt, all those years----- never gettin’ a response. makes sense why you wanted nothin’ to do with me. ❜  he notes understandingly, nostrils flared. gritting his teeth, he shakes his head.  ❛ i’m so sorry, honey. ❜  he places his hand on the back of her head, eyes scoping the scattered pile of letters.

[rizzopd]

* SHERRY.

okay maybe he was right about not really having a day off. they were kind of similar with days off actually being their on call days…you never really know but – so far, the city doesn’t seem to be in mid-chaos so what really is his damage? then again, sherry can’t deny there is some kind of tense, awkward aura surrounding them. she can tell he doesn’t want to speak of the events from last night. at least not the over-sharing parts. which still boggles her mind because she felt it was only her who blurted out feelings and emotions…specifically things she felt for him. but maybe she was missing something? obviously it’s not going to be talked about. perhaps it never will. no…no, she will definitely bring it up but for now, memories were coming back slowly. but in time. maybe not today – joe isn’t in the clear just yet.

sherry was relieved and glad he wasn’t spewing excuses to leave anymore. at least for the moment. her gaze caught a glimpse of his own, exhausted expression and she felt the corner of her lips tug into a small smirk. it always amused her how he could quickly go from being quite cold and soften even just partially after a while. it wasn’t something a lot of people get to see too often. sherry wasn’t tooting her own horn but he does usually soften up whenever they’re together. maybe not at the first go but eventually. this is proof. she’s just grateful she’s seen almost every side to him. he really is more than the stubborn, short-tempered man he loves to be seen as. taking a long sip of her coffee, sherry chuckled quietly into her mug as she recalled the way she acted just a few hours prior. “you forgetting the part where i blew chunks all over angela’s mom’s garden in the back before we left? god…that was…..embarrassing.” sherry’s baggy eyes forming small crescents as she laughed under her breath, leaning her body on joe’s shoulder. “lucky for you i was able to hold everything in last night. my drinks…at least.” no, sherry, don’t bring up the feelings. for the love of GOD, don’t do it…not yet. “um – and thanks for having to deal with me. and for staying…even though you were a pain in the ass to convince i’m sure.” thanks for staying in bed with me instead of going to the couch. “since you’re not trying to abandon me so quickly anymore, want something to eat? don’t think you can go fight the immense amount of crime that’s calling your name today when you’re hungover…and food’ll definitely help.”

her contribution encourages an almost guttural laugh. with a shake of his head, he kneads the space between his brows.  ❛ yeah----- it was the one damn thing angela made us all swear not to destroy. ‘n you destroyed the whole damn thing in fifteen seconds flat. thought angela might kick my head in for not stopping you. ‘you big, blonde ape!’ she hated me after that. ❜  he chuckles, eyes moving back and forth as he recalls----- as though watching the reel of the memory right in front of him. elbows still leaned against his thighs, feet spread a part, he clasps the top of the mug with a herculean hand. he perks a brow, pointedly flashing his gaze toward her as he lifts and tips the coffee mug into his mouth---- he’s smiling, for god’s sake, he must be broken. and when she leans onto his shoulder, he lowers the mug from his lips, that devilish grin following her. his eyes beam down at the sight of her against his burly shoulder, nearly radiating ADORATION as she praises him---- until. ‘my drinks . . . at least.’ abort. abort. joe inhales so deeply, he thinks he might max out his lung capacity. don’t do this. he turns to look forward before leveling his gaze hellbound, crown of his head bowing. he clasps his fingers around the bridge of his nose. leave it to sherry to make a situation awkward tenfold all for the sake of commentary. preparing himself for the worst, bracing himself under the weight of her, he almost thinks to start in again about his tardiness. and then----- she changes the subject. by golly---- she must be broken, too.

shifting his handle of the mug to its center, fingers securely fastening into the handle, he brings his other hand to tap absently on the rim. tink tink tink! he glances into the confines of the mug at its murky contents, nodding at her gratitude.  ❛ no--- no, y’know. you were right, anyway. prolly had no business driving in the first place. ❜  he tilts his head to eye her from his peripheral vision, tapping the porcelain a second longer.   ❛ and, y’know----- it . . . made me feel better. to be here to protect you ‘case------ THEY, . . . y’know. ❜   he gestures with his hand as though it would finish the sentence before it gravitates to his mug. made me feel better to be here with you, period. and he chews on the inside of his lip, shifting his head to look over at her, but ceases in the action. no need to make it anymore awkward with eye contact.

he sniffs curtly, tapping his foot as the silence hangs. and then, with a sliver of a smile, he glances over at her. his forehead creases with humored disbelief.  ❛ little early for meatloaf, innit? ❜  he jabs, flitting his gaze to the mug and stealing a swig.  ❛ wouldn’t hurt. long as your not puttin’ yourself out thinking you have to feed me. s’posed to be on a ‘diet’, anyway. ❜

[rizzopd]

* SHERRY.

this sort of reaction was expected from the ever so strange joe…but it still pulled sherry’s brows close together. watching him stumble with his words and his body, it took everything in her not to comment. she just – let him do his thing, all the while her eyes were still squinting. blinking away the pain and yearning for the pain pills to kick in. any moment now….but she was definitely, surely too tired and in pain to argue. why can’t he just take it easy for one goddamn second. it’s not even a big deal. and it really wasn’t? they’re not kids anymore, no, but sherry quite literally was still wearing her entire outfit from last night. which, honestly she’s surprised she didn’t kick her pants off while she slept. must have been pretty knocked out. she could see how it could look bad but wouldn’t he assume she would have been freaking out by now had anything actually happened? then again, maybe he doesn’t even remember clearly…

“joe, okay … yeah – yeah, alri-alright…wait……..” suddenly it clicked in her brain. candice? station? he’s...late to where exactly? “i thought today was your day off…isn’t that why we did the bar last night in the first place?” her tone was calm and collected with a rather groggy voice. like she genuinely spent the night singing karaoke at the top of her lungs. she wished she did, that’s for sure. her gaze left his back for a second, eyeing the coffee still placed on the nightstand by his side – or, by the side he slept on. that’s…better. “discuss the fact that i drunkenly begged you to stay with me and you did? yeah, i don’t think there’s much to say, joey. relax, a’right…it’s - it’s too early.” bullshit. there was much to discuss but she wasn’t in the mood to do that just yet. what she wasn’t in the mood for was whatever the hell he was trying to pull. but again, she was too tired and too in pain to argue. so without further ado, sherry scoot herself beside joe on the bed and tapped his shoulder with the hand which held two aspirins. “here…and i made you coffee.” her head motioned towards the steaming mug still placed beside him. “wherever you need to rush off to – which isn’t the station – can wait until at least you drink that. it’ll help with this blinding pain i know you’re feeling too.”

❛ ‘day off’ ---- i don’t get the damn day off, i’m the chief of police. ❜  he shoots over his shoulder, cigarette dangling from his lips as he makes a valiant effort to get his shoe on his foot. he stops suddenly as a hangover pang strikes his brain angrily, abandoning his endeavor by tossing the shoe to the ground. taking the cigarette between his fingers to cradle his ailing forehead in his thumb and middle finger of the same hand, he nods meekly before dropping his hand to his thigh.  ❛ yeah, that’s-------  pretty much the whole deal, actually. ‘bout sums it up. ❜  he agrees, inhaling and clearing his throat. you know, except for the part where they both drunkenly confessed deep-rooted, long-term feelings for one another. no big deal. it was better left omitted, truthfully.

elbowing his thighs, tilting his head, he brings his finger to his eyelid, kneading his eyeball into its socket. as she shifts next to him, he merely turns his head ever so slightly in her direction, still refusing to look at her. then, he adjusts his wristwatch with his cigarette hand before bringing the cancer stick to his lips. he bates his breath, extracting it from his lips between thumb and forefinger and scowling at it. it was making him nauseous. he coughs, blowing the smoke out his nose away from her as she taps on his shoulder. he wipes a hand down the length of his bearded chin before proffering his hand forward to accept her aspirin.  ❛ thank you. ❜  he says softly, nodding in agreement as he pops them into his mouth and reaches for the mug on the nightstand. for the first time, weary blue eyes bore into her expression if only for a moment. he scratches at his scruffy chin idly, shaking his head before falling pray to a bout of laughter that puts a serious dent in his STOICISM.   ❛ man, you were---- you were somethin’ else last night. in absolute rare form, that’s for damn sure. haven’t seen you like that i don’t think since ANGELA DICCECO’s party in sophomore year. ❜