I liked Ralph Dunn, and wish I could have seen more of him in L.A. Noire. Pity that when Cole reunites with him, he only refers to him as "Detective."
Word Count: 490
Ralph stood back in dismay as Phelps knelt down to inspect the strange, unidentified object he had found. Suddenly the Golden Boy gets caught in an affair, a factory blows up, and the world goes to hell. He expected to see dogs playing poker next.
He tried to grin at the absurd situation, and somehow force reality into the form he once knew, but all his effort afforded him was a breath of smoke. Placing his fist to his mouth, Ralph coughed in a few failed attempts to breathe normally again.
Phelps remained before him as was, covered in soot and carefully inspecting the part. There was Cole's intuition that once found a gun on the roof of a building.
Ralph had seen the newspaper, and heard the story over, backwards, and sideways at the station. Cole Phelps was an adulterer. How he could reconcile that with the image of the man who had had his back during numerous cases that had taken violent turns in the past, he hadn't a clue.
It would be easy to point the finger at Phelps, and say, "for shame," but Ralph, despite that, bristled at the prospect. Though, he did want to grab Cole by the shoulders, and shake him. Hell, maybe he could have shaken some sense into him back on the beat, if he'd tried hard enough. Flipping his notebook open on numerous occasions in the passenger seat, Phelps had been both the source of annoyance and excitement to Dunn, going over details that probably should have been left to the detectives.
Ralph would usually have to keep his eyes on the road to keep from laughing at his partner's antics. Here was Phelps, the same age as he, only more "mature," in that he was married and had children, yet Dunn felt as if he had to practically hold him by the shirt collar to keep him from chasing after every criminal in Los Angeles.
When Phelps rose from the part with a nod to Ralph, the policeman's eyes widened at what he saw. Cole hadn't slept in a while, the dark circles under his eyes an indicator. His face looked pale, and his expression melancholy, though that was understandable, given the heavy loss of life as a result of the factory explosion emotionally affecting him. Gone was the challenging smile he had once given Ralph when trying to get him to help him further meddle with (ahem, investigate) a crime scene. A fire burned behind Phelps's eyes, the unpleasant effect of which made Ralph look away.
"Thanks, Dunn. Good to see you again," Cole's words held a small, benign warmth to them as he turned to leave.
"Phelps."
He stopped at Ralph's voice, but didn't turn. "Yes?"
"If you're gonna put your neck on the line again, at least be careful."
This time, Phelps did turn back, and a flicker of his old smile passed over his face. "Always."