fandomtownies | Trooper Station; Monday [10/22].

Entry tags:

Trooper Station; Monday [10/22].

Well. Today was definitely turning out to be one of the more exciting days that Trooper Station had seen since those raccoons, and this time around, it even involved human perpetrators! Rosa was almost tempted to double check that this was still the FIPD. When was even the last time they had humans in the holding cell?

Well, today they had two. One of them (female, age fourteen, defacement of public and private property; she'd apparently tried to paint up Turtle & Canary and had actually started etching stuff into the front window with a knife) was already there when Rosa got there; the troopers had apparently picked her up last night and were having trouble getting a hold of any legal guardian. But at least she had clothes on. The other one (male, age sixteen, public nudity and failed attempt at B&E) was not so lucky, so when Rosa shoved him into the cell, she also threw in a pair of FIPD sweats that clearly no one had ever worn because why would they? And then went to track down his parents or guardians to figure out what should be done about their naked, delinquent kid.

Normally, she seriously wouldn't have bothered for little crap like this. She was basically doing a whole unit on B&E in her class right now. But in both cases, someone had actually put in the formal call for it, so her hands were really tied and it looked like she actually had to be a normal cop around this place for a change.

[[small ocd and open!]]

Flat | Top-Level Comments Only

She's there, at her desk, doing actual paperwork that had a real purpose and wasn't just randomly generated by the island just to keep them busy around here. It was almost a little surreal.

At at least she now had coffee, too.

'Cause you done got caught.

Female, age fourteen, checking in. Astrid had woken up, pushing herself up from the bench in the holding cell, when the morning activity kicked off in the station, not very surprised that they were still having trouble getting a hold of her case worker. She had a feeling she'd be spending most of her day in here until it all got figured out, currently a double captive of the state, and ruminating on the irony of the fact that dying her hair red was supposed to start helping her be less like her mother.

She was also a little upset that she didn't get more of that glass etching done, it was going to look fantastic.

Also, why did this place smell like...it almost seemed like it was raccoons and paint thinner...

Male, age sixteen was also here, and could not get those pants on fast enough. They fit a little funny - he was definitely not proportioned like a Fandom trooper - but the drawstring took care of the worst of that, and considering Norman had been completely naked three minutes ago, he wasn't in any position to complain.

He was in a position to take a seat with an agonized groan and bury his face in his hands.

His dad was going to kill him.

Astrid looked up from something she was working on to stave off the boredom, something that she was kind of surprised none of the troopers had noticed that she had, but it was obvious that these guys weren't exactly used to people actually being put in jail. She found this stuff just lying around; it almost made her wonder if the island itself had wanted her to find it.

But her bored attempts at constructing a tattoo gun (thanks, science class and all those totally random machines!) were roughly shoved to the back of her brain when she glanced up at the opening door to get a whole eyeful of naked Norman.

Well.

Her morning just got slightly more interesting.

She blinked a few times and diverted her eyes while he got dressed before looking back and offering a rueful, slightly sympathetic smile.

"Hi, Norman."

Edited 2018-10-22 13:00 (UTC)

"Hey, Astrid," Norman replied in the resigned tone of a kid who now had a record and whose parents were probably contemplating just killing him and being done with all the crazy that came with him back in Blithe Hollow. "I... wasn't expecting to see you here."

He had been kind of under the impression that people didn't actually end up here.

Edited 2018-10-22 13:06 (UTC)

"Yeah," Astrid shrugged, "neither was I."

Like mother, like daughter. But at least she didn't kill a guy to get in here. She prodded at something on her tattoo gun for a second before looking back at him, considered the sweats, the resigned tone, the just basic...everything about him right.

"Does this have something to do with you being a crab all week? Or, I guess, not being a crab anymore?"

She was learning so much about this place in just this one week.

"Yeah," Norman confirmed, grimacing a little. "Apparently I'm prone to really stupid ideas when I find myself suddenly naked right outside a clothing store."

It had been right there.

Right there. With clothes in it. Because the island apparently thought it was funny.

"You?"

"Discovered I should just leave the public graffiti to the experts," Astrid offered, shrugging a shoulder. "But I might just start a new etched-glass phase in my artwork."

Flicking her thumb on the switch, she was pleased to discover the little device in her hands gave off a dutiful little buzzing sound. It actually worked! That had to be even crazier to her than anything else going on right now, because, yup, completely acclimated now, it was official now.

"I don't see why anyone would bother going anywhere if they turned into an animal," she mused. "I'd just stay in my room and not come out until it passed. We could have had a really interesting homecoming on our hands if everyone did then what you just did now."

"At least if everybody did it at once, there would be other people who would be getting stared at too," Norman replied, grimacing a little. "My lesson's been learned, though. Really, really learned."

He was never gonna be able to unlearn this one.

"... What's that you have there?"

Look! Convenient topic change!

A good one, too, as Astrid was starting to feel stupidly proud of it. She lifted it up, just a little, so he could get a better look without exposing it too obviously to the troopers who were clearly not paying too much attention to two dumb kids in a holding cell.

"Tattoo gun," she said. "I found the parts for it when I asked to use the bathroom. I honestly didn't think it would work, I was just fiddling with it because I was bored, but, hey, even better."

Going this long without drawing something was clearly driving her nuts. And, sure, she had a pen and could have scribbled on the benches or the walls or something, but this was far more engaging.

She turned it on to make it buzz again, mostly for dramatic effect.

"Guess now I just have to decide what to give myself."

Norman blinked, and then actually laughed a little, adrenaline from everything that had come before now leaving him maybe the faintest bit off-kilter.

"To commemorate that one time you were busted for having better artistic taste than the law, huh?"

There was something weirdly compelling about the idea of getting a tattoo.

There was something doubly compelling about it being a secret tattoo done while sitting in jail for the stupidest things.

"Maybe the first time, anyway," Astrid laughed a little herself, not that she was planning on doing this too often, but she also realized that it wouldn't be too far-fetched to be reliving this situation, slightly different, again in her future. "You want one, too? To commemorate that one time you really should have just stayed in your room?"

Norman paused for a few moments before replying, yes. A few very short moments.

A few moments that ended in him grinning crookedly and going, "You know what, in for a penny..."

He was going to wonder why in the world he had agreed to this come tomorrow. But right now he was a teenager whose world was clearly falling apart around him or something like it. What did he have to lose?

Good answer, Norman. Good answer. At least in the estimation of a fourteen year old jailbird.

A good basis for any sound decision, really.

Astrid grinned a little. "Any thoughts on what you'd like?"

Norman thought that one over for a few moments more. Because apparently 'actually thinking' was something he was going to give a try now, rather than before he'd been caught trying to break into a clothing store.

"What about... a tiny little ghost," he offered. "On my inner wrist or something. Somewhere I can see it, anyway."

So that he could look at it and remember why he was never going outside again.

"A tiny little ghost," Astrid considered it thoughtfully, with a faint bit of amusement. "Sure. I think I could do that. You want yours first, or should I do mine so you can make sure this thing's not going to turn your skin green or anything?"

"I mean, turning my skin different colors is kind of the point, right? And I bet tattooing is easier on somebody else for the first time than on yourself?"

Also, if Norman didn't throw himself on top of this grenade immediately, he'd absolutely chicken out.

"What makes you think it's my first time?" Astrid asked.

It was, obviously, but come on, around here? It took all types. Either way, her eyes danced toward the bullpit, where literally no one was paying attention to them, even with the gentle whirring of the tattoo gun, and she flipped out her hand, holding it palm up for him to put his wrist in. "Let's get you tatted up, ghost boy."

"Wild guess," Norman supplied, holding out his wrist with a wry smile.

Because this couldn't possibly go horribly wrong, right? But hey, if this wasn't her first time, great. Even better. Perfect, even.

'Ghost boy' was an interesting name, mind. He was pretty sure she didn't even understand the relevance of the ghost. But it was fitting enough.

"Okay," he said, taking a deep breath. "Let's do this."

"Okay, then," said Astrid, who now that she actually was going for it, might have felt a little bit nervous, because this was kind of ridiculous, wasn't it? What if it hurt too much or really did give him some sort of gross infection, or...

...actually, at least with that second one, they could be the ones to bring something interesting and gross to Dr. Yang in class on Wednesday. She was going for it.

"If it hurts too much," she suggested, finally pressing down with the ink on the gun to start in on the little ghost, "just scream."

And then she was going to focus, because she'd never drawn on someone else's flesh before, and, in addition to just sort of appreciating how cool it kind of was, she wanted to make sure that he liked what she drew.

"Um," Norman said, but closed his mouth and just kind of quietly let himself keep his freaking out to inside his own head while she was working, because the last thing he wanted was a little ghost tattoo that looked more like a mistake than some... sweet prison ink? "Okay."

... Yeah, that stung at least a little. He held his breath and was maybe curling his toes slightly, too. He hadn't exactly thought out the 'repeated pinchy stabbing' part of the tattoo process, clearly.

"Do you think," Astrid offered, a snag of conversation to maybe distract him a little while she worked, "I could bring this thing into Mr. O'Hara's class and get some sort of extra credit?"

Half that class was just ridiculous machines, right?

"I mean, I'd probably have to add a pinwheel. And we'd have to make some cheesy movie clip about it first, but, hey, who knows, right?"

"If we can get some little lights on there that blink, I think it'd be pretty much perfect," Norman said, grinning faintly, trying not to add a nervous laugh to that for fear of messing up the lines. "It almost makes me want to actually just make a cheesy movie to go with it. 'The Tattoos That Ate Pittsburgh,' or something."

"Why Pittsburg?" Astrid asked, not out of any particular curiosity, just keeping up the talk as she worked. "Why not...Poughkeepsie? Albuquerque? Kalamazoo?"

"Albuquerque does have a much better ring to it," Norman admitted, pausing for a moment to consider that. That, and not questions that were only belatedly occurring to him, like, 'where did that needle even come from?' "It kind of rolls off the tongue, you know? The tattoo that ate Albuquerque. It's all ominous."

A pause.

"We really need to start writing down these stupid movie ideas."

"Are you any good at writing?" Astrid wondered, getting close to finishing, she felt, but she wanted to do a little bit of light shade work, really make it her own. An Astrid Magnussen without shade work was like...a Jackson Pollock without a splatter, an Andy Warhol without a pop culture reference, a Hieronymus Bosch without someone living inside a split-open buttocks. "You could write it, I could storyboard it."

Things like that weren't exactly her style, but the practice would be good.

"There," she said, adding one last touch and then sitting up, brushing her hair behind her ears. "I think that's good. What'd you think?"

Norman gave his toes one final wiggle for good measure, and then he looked down at the... kind of bloody, okay, that was to be expected... tattoo on the inside of his wrist.

And he blinked. And then he broke into a little grin.

"It's really cute," he decided. "I like it. It's got personality."

Good thing he did. He was kind of stuck with it. Unless his arm went green and fell off. He was going to just not worry about it for now, make sure it was really clean when he got out of here. Uh. If he ever got out of here. It'd be fiiiiine.

"And you know," he added, "I've done a bit of storytelling before, it could be fun to try."

If there was anything he knew well, it was really, really cheesy horror movies.

In case you have...other trooper business.

Any last minute busts you wanna do, just hit me up.

Flat | Top-Level Comments Only

Trooper Station; Monday [10/22].

Talk to Rosa - 10/22.

Holding Cell - 10/22.

Re: Holding Cell - 10/22.

Re: Holding Cell - 10/22.

Re: Holding Cell - 10/22.

Re: Holding Cell - 10/22.

Re: Holding Cell - 10/22.

Re: Holding Cell - 10/22.

Re: Holding Cell - 10/22.

Re: Holding Cell - 10/22.

Re: Holding Cell - 10/22.

Re: Holding Cell - 10/22.

Re: Holding Cell - 10/22.

Re: Holding Cell - 10/22.

Re: Holding Cell - 10/22.

Re: Holding Cell - 10/22.

Re: Holding Cell - 10/22.

Re: Holding Cell - 10/22.

Re: Holding Cell - 10/22.

Re: Holding Cell - 10/22.

Re: Holding Cell - 10/22.

Re: Holding Cell - 10/22.

Re: Holding Cell - 10/22.

Re: Holding Cell - 10/22.

Re: Holding Cell - 10/22.

Re: Holding Cell - 10/22.

Re: Holding Cell - 10/22.

Re: Holding Cell - 10/22.

Other Trooper Business - 10/22.

OOC - 10/22.