17 February 2010
Wednesday @ 3:50pm

The interrogation room was cold, stony, and dim save a few braziers on the wall, glowing with a low fire.  Hunter was there already and had been for a few hours now.  Previous to that, he'd spent the night in a holding cell.  It was enough to demoralize most people, enough to make them keen to talk to someone. Anyone.  But Zora knew that wasn't always the case.  Some criminals liked to hold out and make the process a chore.  A bore.  A slogging mess of rhetoric, veiled threads, bargaining and cajoling.  She wasn't exceptional at it, but she'd picked up a few tricks over the last twelve years.

She sauntered in with a file and dropped it on the table in front of the manacled Mark Hunter.

"Good afternoon, Mr. Hunter.  Sorry to have kept you," she said looking bright and refreshed, her wild black hair pulled up loosely away from her face. 

"You've got a record.  You know what comes next.  Why don't we both be on our best behavior and clear this up.  I can get on with my life, you can post bail, and everyone's pleased as punch. What do you say?"

She stood behind the table, hoping that she wouldn't need to sit down.  That he'd just go with the flow and not be a naughty bother.

Mark Hunter was tired to say the least. He had been thrown in a holding cell. He hadn't slept a wink. Too many thoughts were keeping him awake, from Julie, to Lexus, to James, to Jane, everything that he had to keep in the air was a mess, and he was really losing his patience with all of it. He was so worried though, he left a pregnant wife at home alone, while a werewolf who's out for her blood is still on the loose! And he had to be stupid enough to get caught.

Idiot. Idiot. Idiot.

He didn't even have time to tell James to look out for her, or anything like that. He was so stupid! Any other night! He would have taken getting caught. This sucked. They moved him to an interrogation room, his hands connected in front of him, as he leaned over the table, his hair disheveled, and his clothes all messed up. His white shirt was rolled up over the red sweater, his kahkis were wrinkled. Mark needed a hot shower and a strong cup of tea to deal with this.

After enough waiting, Roh returned. That wasn't fair, the way she could look so comfortable and well rested, while he knew the dark bags under his eyes were dragging his whole mojo down. As his mother would say, his "aura" was very negative. "Look," He started, looking up at the Auror. "I just want to get home as soon as possible. So, if you could, keep your voice down, and we'll work through this together. No hostility or bad cop necessary."

His head was pounding. Not only did he want to go home, but he wanted his potions back. He wanted to curl up with Julie, and talk about baby names, and futures. He didn't want to deal with this anymore.