Chapter Text
After bringing Phoenix into the station, a space was cleared for him while receiving treatment and awaiting trial, and a proper office for Banhammer to work and relax. Perhaps a way to get him more comfortable with coming in and getting a little more familiar with the rest of the workers, but it worked out well for days like these.
For instance, he got to organize the room however he wanted and had keys for it all times. They looked nice dangling from his keychain, and felt great to swing around his finger when going in the morning. He didn’t spend all his time there, it was just for storing things and having a better place to write out those documents rather than the bed in his hotel room. His back certainly felt much better after adjusting, but his mind has grown restless. No further progress has been made, and too many days have passed to try and rush anything.
He himself didn’t change much about the room for the longest time, that was left up to his partner.
Scythe has her head in the half-empty file cabinet in one of the corners. He’s been occasionally watching her when tapping his pen against the sheets do nothing to calm the racing, how she has the willpower to move furniture and decorate the area, he couldn’t understand. Going between two separate documents has started to make his brain turn to mush, and it’s less mind numbing to see the cans of iced coffee be laid out by can size next to the hourglass that does nothing to tell him the time. Remind him to stop working every once in a while? It’s nothing but a simple pleasure in reports and signing legal waivers.
“...You having fun over there?” He’d mumble out when the clicking of her claws against metal finally ceased, tracing line over line with the pad of his finger so as to not lose his place when glancing over. Sentry wouldn’t like it if he saw her in here, but in his defense this wasn’t something he planned out. She just showed up and he let her follow him in, the rookie’s probably assuming he was asking some last minute questions.
“Mhmm.” She hummed, smooth and relaxed as if sorting clutter was comforting. Did she not have cows to tend too today, or was that just mean of him to think. “More fun than whatever’s in front of ya.”
Banhammer quietly laughed. Not one of much enthusiasm but it offered some muse regardless, Scythe merely went back to her sorting and cleaning out grime. Sentry at least provided a nice radio for him, quietly playing some sort of folk-like station his partner picked out, providing some eased environment as he went back and forth between papers. His contract extension was signed, but alongside that he had to look between that for the more tiny print add-ins as he did the finishing touches on the actual report. On top of his own, he’d also be making corrections to the initial report that was first shown to him when arriving.
“Scythe.” He’d call for her attention when he saw her finally shutting the fridge door and throwing away wipes. Once she looked over, Banhammer gestured with his claw to come over to the desk for a second, sliding a copy over where he’d highlighted some stuff.
So she walked over, standing beside his chair and leaning her head down, and her hair bumped into his shoulder while reading it over. The one ponytail did little to keep it off of her, now it just kept swinging into him, heavy enough to be like an unwanted blanket. It was probably long enough to drag across the floor when let down, but he’d only ever seen her with the usual one big braid or how it is today. It made him feel a little tense with the bumping, but in all fairness, he gets the hassle. His own hair is almost always braided, and he’s been enjoying putting half of it in a bun during the day. He could probably braid it if she wasn’t liking the ponytail.
“They put you as Mrs.” Tapping his finger over the line he wanted her attention at, Banhammer brushed off the curls that kept finding their way onto his sleeve. No ring on her horn, though he can’t even imagine how she’d wear one with hers being a slick-back. Nor has he gotten the impression she’d have time for all that, but maybe that’s unfair to assume.
She looked over it for a moment, clicking her tongue once it seemed to really register what the problem was. “Oh yeah,” saying that as if this just happened on the regular. And to his amazement and confusion, it really did.
“I’m put down as m’maw. Ya can change it if ya want, they just did that cause we got the same name and such.”
“That’s stupid.”
“Eh, I like the perks of being taxed as a widow. It’s just so expensive nowadays, plus they do that since I’m technically the owner of our property now.” It’s more like a title? That’s not something Banhammer would have thought of when on his way over. Marriage, or technically previous, surely cannot just be mistaken like that. He’s not enabling that, that’s for certain.
Plus it just felt like plain identity fraud.
He sighed at her careless words, bringing his pend down over the part of the paper and starting to cross out Mrs. Correcting it to ‘Miss’, unfortunately having the foresight to confirm just after that. Even if it’s not right, that’s what white-out’s for!
“But you’re not married or anything right?”
“Yeah bub, I’m single.”
The pen against the paper froze at her tone of voice, Banhammer looking up to find an equally teasing face at his poor word choice. His own face turns into a little glare, though that anger is not directed at her. It was a fair question to ask, and this is why you have to review paper written things, for catching subtle typos and mistakes in turn for correcting them. He hates how much glee is in those squinty eyes backing off after a moment, but not before her hair swipes against his hair again. It makes him want to scream.
“Just joshin’, need me to fix anything else while you finish up?” Scythe chuckled as she slid her hand off the desk, coming up to landing a few demeaning pats to his head. It did not make him feel better, and he only saw more amusem*nt as he scooted his chair back from her. Like the sun outside didn’t already make him hot, this was just cruel. “Fix your face.” So he bit back, missing the disdain in his voice and ending in just more fuel for her games. Embarrassment.
Though to his relief, she merely ignored him, walking back to the center of the room and looking at the work she’d put in. Hands on her hips, chin up and only going to the little storage bins after a hissy sort of sound. Banhammer looked away once she’d crouched down and started pulling out proper feather dusters, quietly moving his chair back to where he had it before.
He laid his thumb pad down back over the paper, skimming over the rest of what he’s corrected before checking for errors in added information. He has a copy of the arrest information for Phoenix just in case these people are antsy for every bit of proof. His momma told him to always be prepared for that, and so far it’s done him good just to have it in case than not. And nothing else seems misplaced, so it is deemed adequate for turning in with his extended contract. It’s a dealer’s murder case, he doesn’t have to work so hard for this to be closed. It’s just the right thing to do. Good for his professional record if there're three perpetrators(not counting Scythe).
This is not good for his professional record. A farmer girl making fun of him and egging him on. It’s stupid how quickly he begins to fumble the second she acts…their age.
It’s appropriately their age, he can just hear his momma right now. And he’d consider getting on his knees and seeking her guidance if the cause of all of this wasn’t wedged in his office like a fly to fruit. What could his mother do? Send a storm her way, then that would just incline her to stay longer.
He needs to calm down.
It’s not that serious. Nothing is worth this much trouble.
Banhammer sits up after a minute, managing a casual face as he walks past his partner, who is staring at him while he tries to depart. She lets him go, but he can feel her eyes on his back until the door is shut, in which he can hear a coffee can pop open. Thief. She’s been subtly strange after what he’d like to call was ‘bottle breaking’ rather than an episode. It has only started getting more apparent with them getting to know each other in these unideal ways. Clinginess and then backing off quickly, though this could just be her true character. There’s a nervous mania about her, and he does not know how else to deal with it other than tolerance.
The hallway offers a hit of fresh air for him, his shoes creating a soft sound as they carry his heavy body across floorboards that need a bit of polish. It guides him to Sentry’s office, knocking on the door just enough to be heard, quiet enough to not potentially suggest some sort of urgency. Is his scatteredness due to the blinding fluorescence lights, or does he just wish he was home.
Sentry opens the door, inviting him into a setting that gets his head in the right space, feigned ego taking front in his brain when he sees the amount of papers untouched on the desk. Much less organized than his new one, thanks to Scythe. “Sir,” He greets the older man as they walk back into the chilled room.
“I see you got it all filled out,” Sentry nods to Banhammer and takes the files that were held out, setting them down on the corner of his cluttered desk. He has a more casual uniform on today, as there haven’t been many important call-ins for the chief to get involved, Banhammer thinks it’s much more approachable than the other times he’s seen him. Short and stout, but not in a cute grandpa kind of way. Usually appearing like those men you see in stands at events with their beer and a pissy face just plastered on there. He kind of reminds the warden of just someone's stone-cold dad with his patterned shirt and tie. “Thank you again, everyone’s constantly in need of extra helping hands. I would have been as happy had you decided to leave at this point.”
“Oh it’s okay, I’m happy to assist.” Banhammer watched his peer pick up a coffee mug and take a few sips, wiping his hand over the bit of long fuzz that collected some creamer. Standing straighter for the sake of not wretching his neck down the whole interaction. Waiting to be discharged.
“You’re a good kid, keep up the good work. Maybe put in a word for some rain if you can.”
That earned him a little chuckle.
After a moment, Sentry sat his cup down and in turn gave a folded up sheet of paper to him, pink slip with a hastily written address. Banhammer gave him a questioning glance in between reading it, folding it back up once he was done and slipping it in his front pocket. “We got that from Phoenix, one of his buddies. I can send some others with you, and lucky for you, this one actually has a warrant.”
Gold.
“And I’m fine with you bringing the lady, but we do need to thoroughly discuss this when you’ve addressed the new guy-” Sentry kicked back, though held a firm tone with Banhammer, to which he’d give a concerned nod. This reminds him of going behind a parents back on ‘bad influences’. Though that is probably would have been a better term had they met younger, should she even be the same as today.
With how stupid and tactless he was at even 15, he could see the friendship there. But this was adulthood, he’s grown and is expected to act right and be smart with company. Who cares about that? She’s stuck like a gun anyway.
The warden looked down at the chief and decided to make his way out, taking the silence as an invitation to leave whenever, it’s not good to be a complete suck up. “I gotcha,” A small smile greeted him when waving goodbye, which gave him a little more bounce in his step when reaching for the door.
Listening to the click of the handle once it was shut, Banhammer very quickly made his way back to the office, passing by a few other cops that stopped to stare at the loud clacking of heavy shoes against wood. It might as well be scratching a mark into the polish as he moved, which would be mildly humiliating.
Nah, they’d probably think it was cool.
Scythe didn’t even jump when the door was flung open, the radio still quietly playing to her liking. They made eye contact before he broke out in a little laugh. It spoke for him, as he held out the slip of paper ‘this sucker doesn’t stand a chance!’. She snorted, mostly at him as he walked in and grabbed his hammer from the corner of the room, looking much cleaner than the last time he’d checked.
“Sit down a second.” He pointed to the chair with glee, throwing his chest piece over his clothes and clipping the hammer into some straps in the back. “I’m gonna braid your hair then we’ll go.”
