3.
Alfred felt his breath catch at this.
"Wait!" He called after the man.
Arthur didn't even look over his shoulder and continued his walk down the steps.
Alfred quickly made his way after him catching him by the shoulder and shoving him against the railing. Arthur narrowed his eyes. "What do you mean 'a vampire'?" Alfred hissed, gripping Arthur by his coat collar.
The elder man simply stared with a frown engraved on his lips. When he failed to answer the youth, Alfred shook him. "What the hell do you mean, you bastard!" He shouted, getting the attention of his fellow officers. Matthew's eyes widened at the sight of the confrontation and made his way down the steps, appearing by Alfred's side.
"Alfred," he muttered, slipping his hand around his partner's arm in an attempt to prevent the man from shoving Arthur over the rail.
"Get off, Matt," he warned, pushing Arthur's back harder against the railing. "I just want an answer."
"An answer I gave to you and now you're in denial," Arthur said, dropping his tool bag to grab the younger man's wrists tightly, prepared to pull him over the rail with him.
"Vampires don't exist," Alfred snapped.
"Yet there's your sister's corpse with the tell tale marks of a vampire," Arthur snapped back.
"Alfred let him go," Matthew tried, and this time Alfred loosened his grip on Arthur.
"But-"
"You requested me here because I know things that you and your little friends wouldn't dare address."
"Because those are things of the devil," Alfred said.
"And those 'things of the devil' managed to kill your sister and all I have done is offered my assistance. This is how you thank me for even identifying what had done it?"
Alfred's eyes flickered down, as if he were ashamed.
"So, boy, would you like to ask me again what I meant? Because I meant exactly what I said."
Alfred kept his head down and let his hand fall to his sides in clenched fists. At this Arthur simply shook his head and readjusted himself.
"I'm...sorry," Alfred said under his breath.
"I'm sure you are."
The detective's looked up and saw two unimpressed green eyes gazing at him. Alfred sighed and felt himself almost deflate. "I'm truly sorry, Mr. Kirkland. I just...Amelia…"
"I understand. However, you are hysterical and if you wish to help your sister in anyway I suggest you have your partner take you home and when you feel you can be sensible and nonviolent, please feel free to stop by my home, so I can properly interview you."
Alfred opened his mouth as if to protest, but Matthew gave him a look. Instead Alfred nodded.
"Listen, you have to trust me. I will help you find your sister's killer, but you must remain patient and trust that I know what I'm doing. Now, if you feel well enough tomorrow, I shall be waiting for you, until then I wish you a good day, sir."
Arthur turned on his heel and made his way down the steps, Alfred watching as the man disappeared out of his sight. Matthew wrapped his arm around Alfred, and turned back to the audience that had formed to give them a hard look. They quickly scattered and Matthew began leading Alfred down the steps.
"Come on, Alfred, let's get you home."
To be honest Arthur didn't expect Alfred to actually come to his apartment, especially so late in the afternoon. When he left, the boy was hysterical and hardly fit enough to help himself or his Amelia. As the day progressed it began to feel late for any sort of meeting, so Arthur decided that the young man would come by some other day. However, when three loud, sharp knocks came from his front door, Arthur was surprised to find Alfred to be the source.
"Good evening, Detective Jones," he greeted, stepping aside to let the young man in. "A little late to be out and having meetings, don't you think?"
"You said come today, so I came," Alfred said, shrugging his large overcoat from his body and hanging it on the coat rack.
"Indeed, I just expected you to come calling a couple of hours ago."
Alfred simply shrugged. "Apologies, Mr. Kirkland."
The two stared at each other for a moment, unsure of where to go, considering the way they had left each other the previous evening. Arthur cleared his throat and Alfred made his way to the couch, unbuttoning his black vest and letting it hang open. His blue eyes fell once again on the older man.
Arthur took a seat in front of him and gave him a reassuring smile. "How are you then, Detective?" He asked politely.
Alfred shook his head. "Could we just get started on this? There's not really any time to waste. Clearly you've been here the whole day and now we've lost a whole day of searching for the killer," he said.
Arthur narrowed his eyes. "We?" He asked, almost laughing at the young man. "There is no we."
"Of course there is. This is my sister, I intend to help."
"You can help your comrades at the station. You would only get in my way," he stated cooly.
Alfred's mouth twitched at the comment, but he let out a breath to try and control his frustration. "I have to help, I'm your connection to the station."
"I have many other connections I can utilize, boy."
Alfred clenched his fists. "Don't call me that."
Arthur raised a brow and stood, unimpressed by Alfred. "You're attitude is clearly not any better than it was last night. You're grieving. You need to grieve."
"I need to bring her killer to justice," Alfred snapped, he took another breath. "Look, Mr. Kirkland, I just...please don't send me home. I can behave or whatever you may need, just please let me help you. I need to do something. Braginski took me off her case almost immediately and now my only choice is to either do paperwork or stay at home, and I can't be at home."
Arthur frowned, but still said, "Fine, you may stay, but it is to only answer some questions. Nothing else."
Alfred hesitated, but finally contented with nodding in agreement.
Arthur leaned towards his table and grabbed his pen and paper. He eyed the boy carefully as if trying to get a feel for the man before him. Alfred shifted clearly becoming annoyed with the lack of questioning and with a sigh Arthur looked at his paper, scribbled down the word "Jones Interview". He then looked at Alfred and with his pen perched above the paper, he nodded, ready to begin.