Absit Omen RPG

It's still here. Adon nodded firmly. Didn't he know it. Adon remembered the shattered glass in Diagon just two years ago, and Reducto Records. The threats scrolled on the wall. The hate crimes against Jacoba were real and frightening and still had a place in their society. Even Zora Roh, his colleague, had demonstrated enough brutal purism for Adon to know that the Institution--even law enforcement itself--was willing to cast a blind eye to mild prejudice. Dreogan's office had its work cut out for them, for sure and for certain. Dree'd even pointed out that their language for comprehending such things--pure, half, and muddled Muggle--were all value-laden. It was one of the few things in Dree's book of theory-speak that had enough real-world application for Adon to buy into. He processed it a little differently, though.

There was nothing that made Adon want to contemplate murder quite so much as the thought of someone inflicting irreparable harm on a loved one. As Maiko related her experience with the Healer, Adon cursed under his breath in Hebrew. There were few things worse than the people who cared for you, who wanted to help, hurting you. Well-intentioned betrayal.

That was why this conversation was terrifying. What if it was him, next time? Adon breathed in heavily, shifting her so she sat closer to him. His fingers slipped under the strap of her tank top, thumb running under the muscles there to try to get her to ease up a little. She was taut--on high alert. As he did so, he felt the raised ridges of her scars. He was silent a moment, just taking in the feeling of her skin as he thought over what he could possibly say. It was important not to presume too much.

"Thank you for telling me. I know it's not easy." His touch was gentle, but his words had a hard edge as he added, "And don't be sorry--you do not need to apologize for what others have put you through. Least of all to me."

"Mmm," Adon responded in a series of knowing, contemplative mumbles as the girl dithered on, digging herself into lies he didn't even need to poke at. He'd leave that for the parents. Somehow, he didn't think it was him the Woolfolk parents would be annoyed with.

Her job is much more exciting than this. Adon groaned inwardly. She had to remind him. Everyone's job was more interesting than this! He was up in all hours of the night talking to imbecile teens about stolen phallic sunnies! Hakhayim hem lo osher--hakhayim zeh raq zeh! Ugh. He understood being taken off active duty, considering the circumstances, but ani lo mukhanah lissebol 'od ett hekhara hazeh.

...Interesting. His Hebrew wasn't a bit rusty. And he hadn't had this much cause to bemoan fate in Hebrew for some time...

The girl was preening and side-stepping about with cat-like paws, treading lightly here, and there, looking for any kind of escape.

Adon flashed a big smile and a wink. "Let's just see who shows up, shall we? Now that the notice has gone out?" Merlin knew he had time. They all did. And they deserved to sweat a little bit.

Except that sickly-looking boy. He might not hold up well. Luckily, the good news rolled in: "Radley is dealing with a nasty situation right now. Said he’ll be by when he’s done. Didn’t sound happy.”

Yes! Was Adon going to get to play good cop?? These days, with JJ, that role never fell to him anymore! And it was the best one.

Adon's victory, however, was short-lived. The boy's hands gripped round the iron bar, breathing heavy, clammier... Adon had just enough instinct kick in to jump back a step, sweeping his crimson cloak well free of the mess. "Dribbleby..." he called.  "Could you get that mop and bucket please?" he asked. Dribbles  sent him such a miserable glance over to Adon that his heart softened.

Moloch. Being the good cop was the worst. "Quick, so I can clean it up, brother," he added. That seemed to speed Dribbles along. Adon's expression was only half-appreciative as Dribbles shoved the handle in his hand. "Thanks," he said flatly.

Dribbles at least had the sense to clear the hell out. Adon wished he could do the same.

He turned his attention to poor, Pukey Rad-lite. "Hey," he said, dipping the mop into the bucket before unceremoniously dragging it across the floor, gathering it. If he wasn't so crappy with his magic right now, he'd just go straight for the scourgify. Oh, who was he kidding. The kid was standing in his own puke in front of a girl he probably liked. (Girls would do that to you--unless you were just an imbecile to begin with.) Pulling his wand out of his pocket, he held it a moment, deliberating.

His magic had not been on point since the Dementor attack. Alberic said it was because magic was soul-magic, and his soul was still recalibrating or something. All Adon knew was that spells weren't as strong and reliable as he would want. If this went wrong--if he screwed up in front of a bunch of delinquent teens...

Fuck it.

Adon pointed the wand at the sopped trainers. "Scourgify," he muttered, deep in concentration. The effect was not his best--but passably clean. He gave a hard look to Rad-lite. Let him think it a half-hearted effort. "Move your feet," he commanded, swabbing the floor with the mop roughly. "And you," he said, looking over to the pretty little Woolfolk who seemed so eager and willing to let the lad take the brunt of the punishment. He wouldn't be taking all the shame, "help him grab a seat. He's done too much for you tonight, anyhow."

"Obviously not Cynthia Bombay!" Adon gaped, elbow locking mid-punch and hitting the bag painfully. He cringed as he bent the joint, rotating it slowly. Adon hadn't even considered the middle-aged witch as a possibility in need of ruling out until! Still, he could see it now: JJ caught-in-the-headlights, on the receiving end of an overly flirtatious comment... Responding outrageously in all the wrong ways, meeting measure-for-measure with an escalating compliments and propositions until...

Yeah, Adon shouldn't have ruled Cynthia Bombay out, actually. Lesson learned: keep the bars low for JJ's love life. He massaged his arm, shifting his weight on his feet lightly. He wouldn't be caught off-guard like that again.

"Look. Jage. Just because a pretty girl's a bit persistent doesn't mean she likes you too much. It might not be attention that you want, but I mean, come on," he began, gesturing at JJ. It was obvious JJ was oblivious when it came to girls and, apparently, his own self worth. Sure, he was a bit impulsive and foolhardy, but the kid was kindhearted and earnest. Obviously smart enough to make Auror--which meant he had a first-rate brain--and sure, he was built like a tank, but he had a decent physique and plenty of girls like that. And at a bare minimum, he kept a good, steady job. He was involved with his family as a diligent son and protective brother. JJ was hitting all the high notes.

Come to think of it, JJ was pretty quality. It wasn't insane to think a girl would try to bag that, even if it was packaged as a one-time thing. He was about to tell JJ he thought so when: She apparently has a boyfriend.

"HELL no," Adon said, dropping a second punch with his right hand. "Nuh-uh. No way." He regarded JJ seriously. "Have you told her no? Have you told her hell no?" If so, it was time to ghost that witch.

This was encouraging. JJ knew he should be ashamed at all the right points: zumba, rudimentary Hebrew pronunciation--which was a sure sign that his training of the kid was paying off. It probably also meant he should let up a little...

But one area JJ still needed development in was clearly in the ladies arena. JJ hadn't started swinging at the bag yet, but that didn't mean he wasn't throwing some pathetic, flailing punches out there. As a trainer, Adon bit back a sigh of disappointment. Squandered potential. JJ was much better than this. First, there was Maya. Adon didn't like how she'd treated his partner. But he liked how his partner had put up with that even less. Clearly there was still some basic lessons they'd need to go over. Lesson One: if she's a stone cold manipulator, run. "Jage, When are you going to--"

There was more. Who the hell was Dosia? A bitch, obviously. Who didn't appreciate his partner. And all this was before he even got to .... "Wait, wait, wait. Which Welcome Witch?" That mattered. Suspecting JJ was perhaps not the multitasking type, Adon began striking the punching bag, freeing JJ up to talk.

"Oh, shut the fuck up."

Adon froze, stomach lurching to a nauseous stop. He held his breath. He'd known this--forcing her to open up--was a risk. In only a couple of seconds, Adon went through hamesh daccot shel pachad[1]. Even when she clarified that the comment was not for him, he felt a bit shaky. He nodded numbly, trying to collect himself.

He ran his hand along her thigh, trying to soothe them both. This while thing might have been a mistake. But an important one; if she didn't feel safe opening up to him, if he couldn't come to mean the same things to her that she meant to him, he had no right to be building up his life around her.

As she spoke, Adon remembered this feeling from a project at school, before he'd gone to Beit Gaddol. He'd been assigned to interview a Holocaust survivor and record her story. He'd only been 10, and he'd shown up at the nursing home, pen and paper, to interview Inge Fackenheim. He hated it.

He hadn't felt prepared or qualified. He didn't want to shove his thumbs into an open wound. He didn't want to be congratulated--like his two pages of scribbles was a significant contribution to history and their nation. Like visiting a lonely old person was an act of charity that deserved a reward. But all of those things had happened anyways. But most of all, he hadn't liked what he'd heard, wished he could forget it--which made him feel like a failure.

The only thing that had made that experience alright was that Adon was Jewish--an Israeli kid given an assignment to learn about his heritage. On this Remembering Day, though, Adon was an outsider. He hadn't been here; he was trying to commemorate something he wasn't a part of. It wasn't him or his people who had been threatened with annihilation. But at least, to a degree, he understood the trauma: feeling like the whole world was trying to applaud your bravery, celebrate your suffering, and getting some sort of sick release from it. Like fucking Schindler's List. That wasn't even about a Jew. They'd somehow made a movie about the Holocaust another feel-good goy-fest. At least his Remembrance Day was established by the government and the people who had suffered most.

"It's different for everyone," he nodded along, agreeing as she insisted that everyone had their own worries. But not everyone took on others' so willingly. "Why don't you start by helping me understand." Mai liked helping people; maybe this could work. "What do you wish people--like me--who weren't here, knew?"

1.	Literally '5 minutes of fear,' a common Israeli expression

"I like putting others first."

"I know," Adon said with a quick nod. He pressed his lips together, thinking. "That's why I," he took a deep breath, pulling her in a little as she finally set down the cutlery, "love that about you." Pressed cheek to cheek, he listened as she continued. And when she grew fretful and silent, he tried to listen to that, too.

This was the most vulnerable Maiko had ever been around him. Every time he was troubled, she could read it. Adon wasn't a closed book; he knew that. But it was more than that. Mai was perceptive. She was good at her job--at getting people to open up. And it was because she cared.

Adon's job was also to get people to open up; recall painful details, get them to trust him, admit to things they'd rather not or, when necessary, to get them talking unguardedly long enough that he could catch them in a lie. He did all this because he cared, too. But he couldn't do that to the people he cared about. He didn't like asking questions, making it an interview. He'd rather wait until they opened. Or, if that failed, poke at the chinks until they snapped. That got them talking, too--albeit a little less ideal.

The people in his life--his mother, Dree, Raizel and Jacoba and Jonas--had all buckled eventually, one way or another. But not Maiko. When she was unhappiest, she threw herself into others' lives and wellbeing. And lately, she'd been throwing herself into his. Adon was grateful--she had become the center of a new life he was building up for himself. But it also scared the shit out of him.

And it wasn't doing Mai any favors, either.

"Well," he mused, running his fingers through her hair, "that may be true, but... we've got a problem. You know they always say do what you're best at... And I come from a first-rate family of worriers." Surely Mai knew the Eleors well enough by know to know this was without dispute. It was why Akiva fit in so well. And Maiko, too. At any moment, a person had only to look back 2, maybe 3 days to find multiple instances of world-ending worry and mind-bending meddling in response.

"And yet here you are," he gave her a light squeeze, lips curving into a smile, "keeping all the worries for yourself." It wasn't that he'd go so far as to call her selfish. But with work being more or less mindless these days, and Maiko being more or less distraught, Adon hadn't had a good, palpable thing to worry about besides himself in weeks. And as fascinating as Old Adon was to get to unravel and remember and obsess and stress about, Old Adon was also tiring as hell. And here Mai was, apparently sitting on a wealth of unspoken worries, that he hadn't even had a chance to touch yet.

There was a particularly loud and obnoxious moment in Shrek LXII, and Adon had to speak a bit louder to drown out the voice of Eddie Murphy. "You know I care, mn? So," he said, leaning forward to grab a bite of something only to realize, with a sigh, his major oversight: there was not a single finger food in sight. With a grunt, he settled back into the sofa. "Give me one of your worries." The Worry Gods demanded it.

"Noooooo, no no, Maikito," Adon cut in with a soft, melodious tone. She always did this. Every. single. time. But not this time! "It's not about me."

"It's about you," he said primly, lifting his chin defiantly. "I was thinking about you." His teasing smile grew muted as he mused. "And how you always put everyone else first." He set down his fork, hands moving over to her knee, where he gave a reassuring squeeze. That'd probably make her awkward as hell. Could be fun to watch...

Lips pressed into a smirk, he tilted his head expectantly.

"Me!" Adon called it, swinging his legs over the back of the couch. For several heavy steps, he sounded like a charging bull, the momentum of his body throwing him into several heavy steps before he caught his rhythm. Adon shoved his hands into his pockets as he approached the doo for the jangling handful of Muggle coins he'd been jangling around with since he'd left his flat.

Adon brought up a fistful of coins, counting out each of the eighteen golden coins and handing them over.

"Uh... thanks," the deliveryman said, holding both hands out to accept. He was still looking at the pile of coin as the door closed.

Adon turned back to Mai, arms full of takeout, and shrugged. If Muggles didn't want to carry around coins like everyone else, they should probably start accepting the Muggle plastic cards everywhere...

"Thai food--the green curry," he informed as he swung by the kitchen, pulling out some silverware and two plates. What were they expected to do--eat from those bendy white plastic abominations? He wasn't a fucking ogre. Returning to sit down again next to Mai, Adon was orderly and strategic as he laid out the boxes, opening each like an offering for Mai. "Rice, curry, more rice, and extra rice," he said, giving a smirk. "And..." he clicked open the final styrofoam box, clearly quite pleased with himself, "mango sticky rice." Damn, he was good. Adon glanced over, a little anxiously, hoping the offered food had its intended effect. He didn't expect a smile, exactly--he hoped for as much--but anything to help.

In all fairness, it wasn't much. Mai was hurting--and Adon felt pretty helpless about it. Food and drunk-watching Shrek was the best he could do at the moment--pathetic. He was still trying to get a feel for how the people in his life processed things like this. Adon had, for years, assumed others wanted to process the way he did... talking it out. However, his therapist had insisted that this was not always the case. Adon had tried to debate her out of that opinion, but there was compelling evidence to the contrary that even he couldn't ignore. Not two years ago, he'd nearly gotten clogged in the jaw by an angry Pratt when trying to talk about the loss of his parents.

It was just possible people preferred to hide these things away. He'd let it come up in its own time. Well, he'd try. He couldn't make any promises. Even though it was still a full week away--not until next Monday--Adon would be lying if he wasn't introspecting about his own Remembering Day, coming up: Yom HaZikaron. At least Israel did a proper job of remembering their fallen. There were built-in moments of silence, ceremonies... Days of service, things people could actually do to get out there, commiserate, and begin to process and heal. The overwhelming, visible unity when everyone--even people on the highways--would stand in silent remembrance when those sirens went off... Everyone served in the army in Israel. Adon was in a war of one sort or another the entire 8 years he was in the Army: the Second Intifada at first, then the Lebanese War just prior to his departure. Everyone had lost someone. Everyone had lived knowing they could be the ones lost at any time. The casualty rates were not as high as they could be, but it was a constant thought.

Here, though--and Adon didn't know if this was just part and parcel to Brits being pent-up emotionally--there didn't seem to be any attempt as a community; no significant displays. Shortly before Adon had arrived, Dreogan had remarked how there had been progress on that front: the Magical Community was holding a Memorial Ceremony at Hogwarts.  Due to the obvious aftermath of the terrorist attack on the stadium--and the deaths that followed--no such ceremony had been held since.  Which gave a sort of repressed feeling to this holiday; a layered grief and anxiety.

Hell, they were drinking and watching Shrek to remember the fallen. That just wasn't right.

Adon had fallen to silently, somberly doling out scoops of rice and drizzled curry. Recollecting himself, he gave a forced smile--less convincing than his insistence that he didn't mind watching Shrek. "You never did tell me how many of these movies there are..."

Adon, who had been resting his chin on Maiko's shoulder, pulled away abruptly. "Wait," he said sharply. This took a moment to process. Withdrawing almost completely, he shifted to look at her with direct urgency. "How many are there." And how many was he going to need to watch, exactly? Just how many times had he already sat down to watch "Shrek" with Mai? And there was more than one?!  Khayim ba-zevel![1] Had he even wanted any of them more than once or were they all different? Was that why he was always confused? He'd just thought it was because of the imbecilic, asinine humor catered to tiny-bodied, simple-minded fledgling-humans  but could there  be founded reasons why all this escaped him?

And all this talk of miscegenation and cross-species courtship, social stigma... God. That was some liberal shit. Not that Adon didn't agree, but this was a kid's show. It was a tender mercy Dreogan was not in the room right now, or he'd be in full-blown treatise-philosopher mode and Adon'd probably would have needed to resort to like... sedatives or chloroform or choking him out with his own shirt or something to get it to stop.

...What were they talking about?

"No, no," Adon said in an easy lie and a smile that betrayed substantial practice. "Shrek XIII is great." Especially if she called him hot. That was how he was choosing to take that last statement. Leave it to Maiko to try to make someone feel weird about being conventionally attractive.

"Oh?" He said, lopsided smirk returning as he shimmined his way closer. Closer... and--slowly but definitely--closer... He pressed his face against hers, nose and lips smooshed against her cheek as he delivered a kiss. "There," he proclaimed, laying another kiss a bit closer to the jawline. "You've been touched by perfection."

1.	Roughly along the lines of "oh for F***'s sake...

"Maaai-iiiiiiiiii," he echoed back her inflection, closing the door with his foot, a bottle of beer in one hand, a bottle of wine in another.
As he approached the couch, he assessed the situation. That Shrek movie was on; she was in full-blown comfort mode. Before her was a half-empty mug. A mug. Oh, this wasn't looking good. They'd probably need to drink everything he'd brought.

Adon set the bottles down before settling next to her on the couch, shifting his hips to sink in and curl around her. He reached for the throw blanket on the far arm of the couch, tucking it around them. All settled. Arm now around her shoulder, he reaching out for his....

"Harah," he growled under his breath. "Forgot the glasses," he muttered, throwing off the blanket abruptly, shoving off the couch, and moving to the kitchen.

Once the Settling Ritual had been carried out a second time, Adon gave a sigh of satisfaction, taking a sip of wine.

"So..." he lilted, "what did I miss?" Adon asked. This wasn't the first time he'd sat through Shrek. But he always made it a point to not really  watch. "Have they met the dragon yet?"

Dog walk. Nice ladies with the glasses. Kept the glasses for safety. ... The quality of this girl's lies was so poor, Adon was almost offended. Perhaps it wasn't an insult; perhaps she didn't think him an imbecile. She might intoxicated, something he hadn't considered before, or perhaps she was more vapid than either of her sisters. "...Noted," he said with a slow, disbelieving nod. "Nameless cousin leaves unchaperoned minors  in care of strangers to walk dog... I'll put that down. Your parents will confirm this fact?" he asked, looking at Hattie.

He'd had to bring up the issue of parents again. Predictably, that had both of them squirming, trying to shimmy their way out of the situation. (Though Little Radley. seemed to be taking the novel approach of trying to shrink his way out of the situation. He could see the kid practically collapsing in on himself.) Neither, however, had fully grasped his earlier statement. He didn't fully blame them, though. Adon himself had gone into the dark recesses of his mind while reciting that drivel. "We can send for Auror Radley if you like--he's in office today, but your parents have already been sent for," he reiterated, in case they hadn't grasped that particular. "Dribble...by," he called, "could you fetch Radley?"

He looked at both of them. The Woolfolk was alternatively petulant and pleasant. The Radley--alternatively green and grey, ready to puke. Poor kid. That girl was getting everything she wanted: she got all the words in but it was little Radley's adult bailing them out (though wouldn't it be fantastic if Archer let them sweat it out a little.

Baby Woolfolk might think she could get off scot-free. "As a matter of fact," he said, regarding the girl, "your sister, Amaryllis--the Obliviator--she's sometimes on call, isn't she? Should we see if she's on site? Or your other sister?" He didn't remember her name. Admittedly, it didn't have the same kind of bite as calling in an Auror uncle, but as he'd said: parents were already sent for. Least he could for this poor, whipped boy was to even the playing field a little. Call him a philanthropist. Adon just cared like that.

Hey, JW! I play a couple of characters that would be great to write with with you! I'm currently out of town for a few weeks and limited to my phone/wifi útil the 17th, but drop me a PM if anything seems appealing and we can start to work on something when I'm back.

There's Adon Eleor, an Auror who transferred from Israel but has been in London the past 2-3 years. He is a bit of a ham, loves interviewing, and can be a bit of a...exuberant force.  He's coming back at the beginning of April from a couple of weeks of recouperation.

Then there's Gilchrust Ruirdan, the Deputy Head of Level 2. He loves spending time with the Aurora, very much has an open door policy for all his employees and tries to advocate to get them resources, etc. that they need (I'm sure not always successfully. Riordan'd be happy to set her on a case, get her set up with a partner, hear how her progress is going on her current cases, etc. If you wanted to run with any of he following plot ideas I put together here (http://absitomen.com/index.php?) I'd be happy to have either of my characters involved. Let me know! I'm so excited to see Level 2 stuff! it's my fave!

At the mention of Zumba, Adon's expression of "willing-to-consider-new-but-probably-inferior-locales-to-haunt" closed off considerably. The first time it was repeated, Adon clentched his jaw. The second? Adon raised an eyebrow, arms crossed. "Prancercize on your own time," he grumbled, already walking towards the punching bags as a definitive decision. As JJ voiced his agreement, Adon smirked. "Glad to hear you speak some sense, brother."

Their dynamic was still a new one. Adon was used to being a respected, but clearly junior partner with Jonas. Adon was left to do the majority of the magical heavy lifting, and Jonas--in most cases, the judgment calls. There had been a sort of comfort in this. Though Adon would chime in if he had concerns or reservations and on more than one occasion had put his foot down, ultimately, the accountability fell on Jonas, the senior partner.

Now, that was him. It wasn't that JJ couldn't be trusted. He was inexperienced. Adon was still trying to suss out the kid's strengths (besides exuberance, fitness, a bottomless stomach and iron gut) and particular weaknesses. More activities like this, outside of work when lives and investigations were not on the line, could serve as a valuable proving ground. Better than trust building exercises that were almost undeniably hokey. Here, he got to punch JJ in the name of fitness and character analysis.

"Still think you ought to learn Krav Maga," he feebly interjected, slipping on his gloves. The point was probably belabored. The Israeli's opinion on the Israeli martial art was thoroughly known on Level 2 and with good reason: it was far superior. Sure, crossfit and whatever else JJ did were good (unless it was prancing around and calling zumba "exercise"). If there was one thing Adon understood, it was slavish adherence to a fitness way of life. (And Dreogan didn't feel Adon was religious. Pah!) But unlike Crossfit or lifting, Krav Maga had the potential to change every aspect of JJ's life.  "You think more clearly, you act more quickly, you improve your cognitive balance..." he began to list off.

"So," he said, standing to the side, a clear indication that JJ was to begin. His turf, his move. "I'm a bit out of touch. What's going on in your life?"

"Are you a musician?"

What a Woolfolk. Obviously didn't know that Rule Number One: don't talk. Or at least Rule Number One Subpart B: If you're going to talk, have it help your chances. Or Rule Number Three: Don't piss off people with no good reason. In that regard, she was very much like her sisters. Adon was now decidedly less enthused to host a Woolfolk this evening.

He glanced over to Dribbles, dearly hoping the hitwizard had at least given the Police Caution before any of this had embarked--and that Witchy Woolfolk was simply choosing to disregard it out of a place of idiocy, not ignorance. He recalled the training they had to undergo annually regarding treatment of minors, and the particular wording chosen by the Court to explain the situation of minors: "The Court recognizes the fact that, because of their relative immaturity and lack of experience, children cannot be viewed or expected to act simply as miniature adults." Which was to say, sentient humans of some sense.

Seemed there was little mistake of making that, now. Except Radley. He had to give it to him: that kid knew when to keep his gob shut. Perhaps because he maybe had an Auror for a relative? Adon could only be so lucky.

Expression unamused, Adon folded his arms across his chest. He let the silence stretch out several long, painful moments.

"I'm Auror Eleor," Adon said, tone that of a bored, disenchanted tour guide. "As this is your first time," his gaze was particularly on Hattie for a moment, "I will explain the process to you." He repeated the same, tired ritual. "You do not have to say anything, but it may harm your defence if you do not mention, when questioned, something which you later rely on in court. Anything you do say may be given in evidence." In the distance, Dribbles nodded emphatically. Thank God--at least that had already been covered amply once. It bore repeating, though. Again, like his training had said (in so many words) small humans could be particularly stupid and needed this told to them often.

What followed was an automatic recitation, devoid of human expression:

"You have the right

• to get free legal advice.
• to receive medical attention if in need.
• to notify someone--like your parents--where you are."

He glanced once more to Dribbles, who threw him a thumbs up. "Though that," he added,"I hear, has already been done for you." He looked at the teens, a gleam returning to his eyes a moment. Let them think over that. He sincerely hoped that drove home to Wunderkind Woolfolk that this was not a story-in-the-making but a situation with real, live consequence. Even if all they got from this was a tongue-lashing and a grounding. To teens, that was death anyhow.

God, he hated life; Riordan and Carstairs knew exactly what they were doing, putting him here in this special circle of hell singularly designed to torture failed Law Enforcement Officials, hounding them by the emblems of their failure. All of this was counterindicative to his recovery. Somewhere, deep inside, a part of Adon's soul in his soul withered up and died.

Automatically, like a second-class gameshow host, he gestured broadly to two large posters posted side-by-side on the adjacent wall for all cell occupants to see. "You may consult these posters for our codes of practice and your rights."

On to the next one. Once more without feeling, he gestured back to his desk. "I am putting the initial circumstances of your arrest into the system and had wondered if you had any clarifying details before doing so. Once entered into the system and an appropriate adult is found, you will accompany me into the interview room, where," he looked levelly at them both, "doubtless I will have some further questions for you. Do you have any questions about the process and rights, before we proceed further?"

"Hey," Adon began defensively, clapping JJ briefly into a bro hug. "That's only because..." my gym sold out and now is a boughie circle of purgatory rife with urban hipster granola wannabes with deep pockets? "...it was closed." Dammit, he hated being late.

He looked around, trying to keep his distaste for the place at a minimum. He saw Hercules Mulligan over there in the corner, sent him a chin-nod in acknowledgement. Mulligan was a good friend. That improved things somewhat.

"Where do you want to start?" No no no, Adon. This gym taught zumba and JJ was clearly a man who needed boundaries. Guidance. He looked about quickly. "Weights? Punching bags?"