Hurricanes, Flashlights, Lawnmowers
by movieholic
200 words
"You got a light?" called out Mike from across the bullpen. The room was dark, courtesy to a storm outside the building.
Greevey tossed him a flashlight, guessing he misjudged the distance from the grunt emitted from the younger man. Max laughed and shook his head.
"Ow!" Logan cried out, after stumbling over an object and sprawling on the floor. From the flash of lightening, Max caught of glimpse of him on the ground, cradling his wrist.
"You okay, Mikey?"
"Yah, just tripped over a- the hell is this? Is this a lawnmower? Why the hell do we have a God damn lawnmower in the precinct?"
Max stifled a laugh and shrugged, "I don't know, kid, and I don't care. Soon as Hurricane Something-or-Other is over, we can find out." Max edged closer to his fallen comrade, "You okay, really?"
He sat up, "Peachy, Max." With the help of Greevey, Mike found himself on his feet again. He glanced around, "I hate staying late. See what happens when we stay late?" He held his swelling wrist, "Christ, ow..." he mumbled.
"Suck it up, kid."
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