Trooper Station, Friday

[pocketpretzels]

Two weeks away meant, yes, there was paperwork to catch up on. As always, a surprising amount given how little actual crime occurred on the island.

The problem was the shouting match Hugo and Ralph were currently having over something called a 'DeeVeeAre' and... erasing something? On purpose? By accident?

Watts didn't particularly care, which is why after five minutes of attempting to work with that ruckus in the background he shut his office door.

Ah. Blessed silence.

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[hasaknightjob]

Did a beau count as something which ruined silence? Because at lunchtime there was a Steven going to open Llewellyn's office door.

[pocketpretzels]

A beau did not, no.

However, absorbed in his work as he was, Watts had no idea it was lunchtime, and thus who was on the other side of that door.

Instead, all he heard was the rattle of the doorknob.

The sound of a gunshot.

And so it was when the door actually swung open, Watts was- nowhere to be seen.

[hasaknightjob]

Steven came in and looked around in confusion. It was lunchtime, wasn't it? Steven had worked yesterday. "Llew? You here?"

[pocketpretzels]

Well, his hat was here? Dangling off a corner of the computer monitor.

And if Steven listened very carefully (though he might need to close the door behind him, given the shouting match still happening outside), he might hear the sound of someone breathing rather heavily.

[hasaknightjob]

The hat was a good sign. Or at least a helpful one. Steven closed the door behind him for privacy, then went to put the bag of food on the desk. Perhaps Llewellyn was napping?

"Llew?" he tried again. "It's me."

[pocketpretzels]

Not napping so much as trying to make himself as small a target as possible, but he was very much in his favourite office napping spot, if that helped at all?

[hasaknightjob]

Steven came around to the other side of the desk, since that was Llewellyn's napping spot, and gasped when he spotted Llewellyn there. He squat down so they could be on eye level. "Llew? Are you all right?"

[pocketpretzels]

Watts's head had been resting on his knees, but he peeked up cautiously at the sound of Steven's voice.

"Steven?" he whispered.

[hasaknightjob]

"Yeah, it's me," Steven said. In case confusion was the problem, he gave Llewellyn a small smile and said, "Steven with a V. You all right, Llew?"

[chef_chocobro]

Ignis had always been one for efficiency, so while he was on his way to the forge to speak with the blacksmith that afternoon (he was increasingly becoming aware, during his training sessions, that while the daggers Gladio had gotten him for Christmas were quite nice, the balance felt a little off for his preferences, and he was certainly hoping she'd be willing and capable of making adjustments), he figured he might as well stop by the trooper station with regards to an issue that was not exactly pressing, but of mild concern, since it was right next door, and all, and he knew that Watts was usually in that day, besides.

It was, however, decidedly unfamiliar territory, so, when he opened the door and stepped inside, he paused for a moment, just to get a feel for it by listening, to determine a general idea of the layout and the hubs of activity of the troopers and perhaps even where to direct his attention next.

But he was certainly not above merely throwing out a tentative, inquisitive, "Detective?" to help himself out a little.

[pocketpretzels]

And by the time Ignis made his way to the Trooper Station, the argument between Hugo and Ralph had, thankfully, settled into something of a cold war, with the two of them scowling at each other over their desks.

That, combined with Watts’s desire not to have a repeat of whatever had happened when Steven arrived, meant his office door was wide open as usual, so he could hear Ignis’s question.

“Mr. Scientia,” he replied. “My office is straight towards the back, and the door is open. The path should be clear if you remain on a straight line, but there are also several desks located on either side of said path.” A pause. “Is that sufficient information to allow you to navigate or would you prefer some physical assistance?” He seemed to do just fine in locales such as the Perk and Caritas, which was where Watts typically encountered him, but then, those would be familiar territory while the Station was not.

[chef_chocobro]

Igins smiled, briefly, at the question. "Quite sufficient," he assured Watts as he started forward with a good deal of confidence, "and then some."

All he'd really needed was the sound of his voice to hone in on, and the rest would be rather easy from there, but that wasn't to say he didn't appreciate the extra information. Ignis would rarely come across extra information he didn't appreciate it, and it definitely helped him set the scene for any future reference, although, no offense intended to anyone there, but he hoped future reference of the trooper station was quite unnecessary in the future.

"I trust you're well, Detective," he added, once he reached the office and stood there in the doorway, "and might have a moment to spare?"

[pocketpretzels]

Well, he was now. The less said of earlier, the better.

“Of course,” Watts said. “There’s a chair- three paces in and to your left- if you’d care to sit.”

As for the need for future reference, there was always the possibility of a social visit, which quite frankly Watts would welcome, the typical day at the station not being the most stimulating (beyond lunch every other week, that was).

[chef_chocobro]

With a small wave of his hand, Ignis dismissed the offer of a chair for now, though he certain did file away that information in case a bit more of prolonged visit should necessitate one. "Thank you," he said, "but I imagine it will be but a moment. I was on my way to see Miss Blackstone," that hand now gestured, idly, to the weapons currently strapped to his person, one at his hip and the other across his back, daggers that seemed like they were narrowly avoiding being called swords on a technicality and perhaps a few inches, "and figured, since I was here, I might as well bring up to you a matter that has caught my attention recently. Nothing too concerning or demanding, I should hope, but in the case that it might be....well, around here, I feel one can never be too cautious.

"Honestly," he continued, "I'm not even sure this is a matter to bring to you, but, seeing as the island doesn't exactly have a road commission, as far as I can tell, and considering the...history of the island's troubles on a more...subterranean level..."

Ten years away certainly did nothing to dispel the bad taste that being stuck underground for a month had inspired, truly.

"...it might warrant some attention. But I've noticed there's a few flagstones, down on Apocalypse Avenue, right outside the gym, that are shifting in a potentially worrisome way. It might be little more than casual wear-and-tear, but, again, I feel that vigilance is nothing that can be of too short of supply around here."

Which was a hell of a long journey to getting around to complaining about essentially a future pothole, Ignis.

[pocketpretzels]

Watts followed all that, nodding in all the correct places. Or what would be the correct places were he speaking with someone with functioning eyesight.

"I'll have that looked into," he said sincerely. Because, well, Ignis was right. You never knew whether a loose cobblestone was wear and tear or evidence of the moleman army come to invade the island. "But!" he realised. "It's rather fortuitous that you're here, actually. As I've been looking for you."

[chef_chocobro]

An ounce of prevention, so on and so forth. It did Ignis well to know that the person in charge of what little law enforcement this island required was a man of enough sense and reason to not immediately dismiss his concerns as strictly unfounded and merely being a worrywart, as Gladio had so eloquently put it.

He nodded, grateful, and figuring that would be the end of that, until, naturally, Watts' addendum sparked his intrigue anew.

"Is that so?" he asked, and that intrigued turned into a slightly concerned frown. "Is there something wrong?"

Someone was a little used to only really being sought out when there were problems that needed fixing.

[pocketpretzels]

“No, not at all,” Watts assured him. “While on vacation in Miami, Steven and I visited a- rather unique winery. And naturally, I thought of you. So, I picked up a bottle of one of their offerings.” He took the bottle from the tote bag he’d been hauling it around in nearly all week and stood, walking over to Ignis. “It’s made with avocado, of all things.”

[grenadesandohana]

The paperwork pile up was definitely not Steve's fault! Probably!

He gave Watts a wave on his way for a coffee refill.

[pocketpretzels]

With lunch past and the argument between the Troopers no longer reverberating through the station, the office door was open once again.

“McGarrett,” Watts acknowledged in response to that wave. “Keeping busy?” he certainly was!

[grenadesandohana]

Steve nodded. "Running down a few things for the team back in O'ahu," he said.

It was better than weighing in on the Great DVR Debacle of 2023. "Radio said you got shot?"

[pocketpretzels]

"The radio," Watts said, "was correct. My trip to Toronto last week was- not so much a holiday as a working holiday."

Steve should be familiar with those, seeing as they happened with alarming frequency whenever he went back to Hawaii.

[grenadesandohana]

The last trip back to Hawai'i had been the first time there hadn't been a murder/kidnapping/terrorist attack in months!

Why did anyone go on vacation to Steve's Hawai'i. Honestly.

Steve's nose wrinkled up sympathetically. "Hate when that happens. Case wrapped up, though?"

He guessed Watts wouldn't be back otherwise.

[pocketpretzels]

"The shooter was apprehended," Watts confirmed. "So too was the man who'd hired him. The latter was out for revenge against a colleague of mine."

[grenadesandohana]

"We get a lot of those guys," Steve said. It saved on having to cast someone new. "Was he aiming at your colleague?"

[pocketpretzels]

“Not exactly,” Watts said. “He’d already killed a man dressed to look like the other Detective. Supposedly it was meant as a kind of warning. I just- ended up on the wrong side of a gun.” To use the shooter’s own words. “While tracking him down.”