Vriska, pick up gun there are dames to be rescued!
As if. The gun was cold in the detective's grip, her blue eye directed down towards the metal before slowly pushing it into her open pocket. Tonight was going to be a long night, and there was a lot of time to waste in handling the object like it was glass. Speaking of glass, there was something the woman did need to help with the night. It was whiskey found under her desk, found mostly drunk from her other nights. Nights spent admittedly with the detective having not much on her plate. A few misdemeanors here and there, a family missing a kid perhaps, the list goes on, but it wasn't anything as exciting as rescuing. That wasn't her deal; she was forced to deal with minor crimes after her little 'accident'.
Even with these lack luster crimes did the detective not get her fill of adventure, at times at the very least. Even though she had her 'accident' the woman loved to play in high risk betting games with the only male that she could classify herself still in cahoots. It was with the famed Ampora. He was a local casino owner, and as she knew, a local crime boss as well. She knew a lot of things like this, and at one time she might have taken the time to actually bust them for their various crimes. But the end of this bottle right now was more important to her, especially since the police chief decided to demote her for her accident after the whole ordeal. If they didn't care, why the hell should she?
With all of this drinking Vriska decided to get comfortable, propping up her feet on the nice wooden desk and leaning back in the black chair. She had a nice view of her office, cramped with various drawers and things stationed here and there. She was moved down to this practical basement after her luck failed her in her detective business. On especially boring nights she could be seen reading various novels brought with her from the office, organizing her files, or simply breaking the whisky bottles she was done with. It was getting a habit of breaking the glass and just heaping it in piles near the drawers. It was already crammed, but what use would it be to clean it? She wore shoes, and she was pretty sure no one was going to be down here anytime soon. Like seriously, no one wanted to be down here with her.
So the woman just continued to prop up her feet on the desk and continue with her addiction. She huffed at the sight of a help with addiction pamphlet stationed on the top of her latest files. No doubt given to her by her meddling friend Kanaya. She had a nickname to call the fashion designer fussy fangs, because of her various tries of kicking the detective's addiction to drinking, and or breaking the bottles of whisky. It wasn't like it would help anyway; addiction was a powerful thing, even if she should stop. Stopping was never part of her ideal when she began to drink the whiskey, but it did stop inevitably when it was empty. This might have been her first adventure of the night, finding something else to fill the void tonight
As luck would have it, there was actually another adventure for her to do then continue her drinking. There was a sudden figure at the door, before the wooden object was pushed open. Her offender stood in front of her, smiling with that large grin of hers. "Serket, I see you are still at the work huh?" She had a set of large black tinted glasses in front of her features and a large grin on it as well. She was almost completely blind in both eyes and that cocky grin of hers was almost enough for the washed up detective to stand up and demand that she wipe it off of her face.
That wasn't her deal though; she had to remain uncaring about the easily mocking grin on her features. The detective pushed up the round glasses up closer to her brow, and managed to flash her own only slightly intoxicated smile. "As work filled as I will ever be Pyrope. Why don't you get on with your lawyer work huh? Bothering a police officer at her work could maybe cause that blindness to be a bit more… present?" Her words brought on a sudden silence in the room, before slowly the almost blind attorney made her way towards the desk, setting a pile of papers on top of the help with addiction paper.
"Actually Serket it is casework that actually made me come here. Seems you have nothing other to do than help me." She crackled, slowly backing away from the now standing detective. "I'm not stupid though, if there was some other detective who could do this case I would willingly ask them. Of course, after a year you might be too washed up to actually help. Regardless, it was nice seeing ya one eye." She had waved her hand behind her as the female moved out of the cramped room still crackling.
The detective was surprised, it isn't everyday that the attorney that literally put her in the position she is in her job asked for her help in a case. Her blue eye darted down to spot the large file stationed ontop of her messy desk. She wasn't going to help that bratty two-face anyway, but she left it here. Might as well look into what exactly spurred her on into asking her, of all people for help. Her eyebrow rose briefly at the contents of this… special case. The first image she got was of a mug shot of a young man roughly a year and an half older than her, considering his birth date on the file after it. He had blocky cracked glasses, slightly buckteeth and a frown on fearful features.
Her first impression of him was some coward who had gotten himself in trouble. Seeing as he had a few bruises on his skin. But further in the file, the woman caught onto something else entirely. The male was caught assaulting a man, named simply Doc Scratch, who seemed to have files within the case file itself. As the female read on, there were certain other hints she caught. The Doc didn't seem quite so clean from her eyes, something going on behind the scenes. The whole thing seemed faked, from the Doc's opening statement to his smiling picture. Even the one who had assaulted him didn't fit this picture. He obviously wasn't the type to up and attack someone without some sort of purpose first.
She felt, suddenly, the urge she felt before the accident that had cost her half of her arm and eye. She was actually doing something… important, something to help someone like her younger self. She had snorted at this sudden feeling, leaning back in the chair and propping her feet again on the desk. Rereading through the files with a sudden smirk on her features, this must be some sort of trick. The attorney wouldn't ask her to help them with the case unless it was something important, or she was trying to pin something on her like before. With Doc Scratch involved… she might as well decide to take up the case. Considering that he was also the reason that she only had one real hand, and a burned out eye that used to make her the best marksman in the city. This may just have been the reason as to why getting revenge was suddenly pushed out of her mind. She had better things to do than risk her neck for this nerd, even if it was just looking at the end of a bottle.