"If you don't treat O'Hara with the respect she deserves, or you hurt her in any way, I will discharge my pistol."
"You mean you'll shoot me?"
"Repeatedly."
Lassiter remembered that moment better than anything over the last six months. He wasn't going to lie, he didn't want to shoot Shawn. Despite how much the younger man complained, he was a benefit to the department.
Lassiter peeled himself from his bed, slamming his hand a bit too forcibly on his alarm clock. He blinked, clearing the blur from his eyes, and let out a rasping cough. 5:30 am, he thought with a satisfied smirk. Perfect.
He took a quick shower, something he had learned when he had been a "normal cop," then pulled himself into his pants. He shrugged into his shirt, fastened his suspenders, tightened his tie, and was almost ready to face the day. Grabbing his jacket and his belt, gun affixed already, he stomped out the door. He paused to lock it behind him, then hurried down the stairs, jumped in his car, and drove.
He pulled into a fastfood joint, not really caring which one it was.
"Hello, welcome to McDonalds! How can I help you?"
"How about you give me food?"
"What would you like, sir?"
"Someone with less attitude," he muttered. "A hamburger."
"Sir, are you aware it's six thirty in the morning?"
"I am. So a hamburger, unless you french-fry brains decided to start selling something people would buy, like donuts."
The lady let out an indignant sputter, and he heard her mutter to a coworker. "I'm sorry, sir, we won't be serving you," she said snidely, and Carlton let out a dry laugh before zipping towards the payment desk and flashing his badge.
"Tell her she should find out who she's talking to," he said, this time honestly laughing before zipping completely out towards the station.
Lassiter arrived at the station exactly at six forty-five, like always. He always argued with a fastfood person too, but that was irrelevant. He swung out of his car and stomped up the steps, mumbling about how there were far too many for any logical circumstance, then swung open the doors. He walked towards his desk, passing his partner's, then backtracked.
"O'Hara?" he asked incredulously, seeing the blonde-haired lady at Juliet's desk, who he assumed was his partner. She looked up, and Lassiter took a shocked step back.
Her typically pulled-back hair was indeed pulled-back, halfway. Her hair came loose in various locations and fell around her face in an incredibly unflattering way. Her suit was askew, and her eyes were bloodshot. Despite that, she seemed incredibly calm and collected as she stood and approached him. Then she slumped into him, wrapping her arms around him and began to sob uncontrollably.
Lassiter stood, incredibly confused, as he held his partner up, her nearly collapsing. She'll ruin my suit, he thought dryly, then what was happening sank in. He lifted her up, then carried her back to his desk. He sat her on his lap, holding her tightly. A good ten minutes later, she sat up and looked at him apologetically.
"Carlton, I'm so—"
"No. What happened to you?" he demanded.
"Sh-Shawn," she started, and Lassiter slammed his fist on the desk with a loud bang.
"Is the idiot dead?" he asked, a touch of concern leaking into his voice.
"He… he…" stared Juliet, then launched into sobbing again.
"Spencer," hissed Lassiter, turning the seven letter word into fourteen words. "I made a promise," he added quietly. "And I'll keep it."
"Wh-what?" inquired Juliet with a sniff.
"Nothing, partner. Now, since we seem to be the only dolts to show up in this joint, why don't we see what the chief has for us today?" He reached for the pile of folders sitting squarely in his "Incoming" tray, taking the top. Juliet froze, then grabbed it.
"I'll handle this one," she said with a light blush, and Lassiter nodded, grabbing the second.
"A robbery at a gas station," he said exasperatedly. "Chief could give us some better stuff." Juliet nodded her agreement, then reached for the next file.
"This is a little better," she said with a snicker. "Burglary in Super Eight Motel, rats suspected." Lassiter nodded and laughed, trying to calm Juliet down more.
"Should we check that one out?" he offered, checking the large wall clock. "We have an hour and a half until all those idiots show up."
Juliet nodded, then caught a glimpse of herself in the glass. "Just… excuse me to freshen up." Lassiter nodded back, then buried himself in the file. Even if rats were to blame, he was determined to get them the death sentence.
Juliet returned a few minutes later, looking like her normal self, and Lassiter shrugged his coat into place before stomping out of the station and into a police cruiser. "I'll drive," he said, not asking but stating. Juliet simply hummed, and he drove towards the next crappy motel in town.
They pulled up in no time, and shot each other a knowing nod before slamming the doors and approaching the manager's office.
"SBPD!" exclaimed Carlton, banging on the door with his badge in hand. The door opened a crack, then all the way.
"Ah, welcome detective. Er, detectives," she corrected herself, earning a scoff from Juliet and an eyebrow-raising from Lassie. "As you may know, I was robbed." She spoke with a drawl almost southern, but lacking the stupidity often associated with southerners. "Ah'm assumin' those doggone rats did it, but ah thought ah should call in the reserves in case." Juliet scoffed again, staring at the cheap motel worker as if she were the rat herself.
"Carlton, a word?" demanded Juliet, grabbing him by the sleeve and yanking him outside. "She took the money, she's trying to seduce you, and what's with that stupid look on your face?"
"She's impressive, O'Hara," said Lassiter snidely. "Anyways. You really think she took the money?"
"Guaranteed," said Juliet dryly, then returned to the room. "Ma'am, do you mind if we look around?"
"Not a problem," said the lady slowly, leaning a bit too far over her desk. Carlton looked down, and Juliet sighed again before grabbing him and dragging him to the small room behind her office.
"I doubt she hid it here, but we'll look anyways. Carlton!" exclaimed Juliet, seeing him digging though the drawers.
"It's a very likely place to hide things," insisted Lassiter, leaving Juliet only to facepalm. Hard.