Detective Rosa Diaz (![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png)
died8yearsago) wrote in ![[community profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/community.png)
fandomtownies2018-03-19 08:55 am
died8yearsago) wrote in fandomtownies2018-03-19 08:55 am
Trooper Station; Monday [03/19].
After the bar thing on Friday, Rosa'd gone back up to New York for the weekend, because screw sticking around this podunk little island when she could be celebrating St. Patrick's Day in one of the best places to be celebrating it. And her plan had gone perfectly, leading to a weekend haze of a lot of drinking, making out with her girlfriend, green puke, and maybe possibly one caper with her Nine-Nine crew, but honestly, she couldn't really remember. She felt she could vaguely remember Cheddar being involved somehow, and Peralta dressed as a leprechaun...
...the fact that she couldn't remember confirmed its success, though, and it also confirmed the fact that the last thing she wanted to do today was actually get back to working. A fact she hoped she made very clear when she kicked open the door to the station, stomped over to her desk, slung her jacket over her chair before sitting down and tossing her feet up on the desk, not removing her sunglasses and declaring, "Don't anyone even think about coming over here with crap for me to do."
That really didn't seem to stop Ralph, though, who seemed to have a death wish. Rosa glared at him the whole time it took for him to come over and tentatively put a folder on her desk for her perusal. A glare that stayed in place as she maintained full eye-contact (as well as one could with someone whose eyes you couldn't see, anyway), lifted up her coffee mug, and very slowly poured the liquid onto the file.
"Oops," she said. "I spilled. Better go type up another one."
After about the third time of trying, he decided he'd better just email her the papers.
[[open!]]
...the fact that she couldn't remember confirmed its success, though, and it also confirmed the fact that the last thing she wanted to do today was actually get back to working. A fact she hoped she made very clear when she kicked open the door to the station, stomped over to her desk, slung her jacket over her chair before sitting down and tossing her feet up on the desk, not removing her sunglasses and declaring, "Don't anyone even think about coming over here with crap for me to do."
That really didn't seem to stop Ralph, though, who seemed to have a death wish. Rosa glared at him the whole time it took for him to come over and tentatively put a folder on her desk for her perusal. A glare that stayed in place as she maintained full eye-contact (as well as one could with someone whose eyes you couldn't see, anyway), lifted up her coffee mug, and very slowly poured the liquid onto the file.
"Oops," she said. "I spilled. Better go type up another one."
After about the third time of trying, he decided he'd better just email her the papers.
[[open!]]