Poor Richard 😂


The station hadn't had a case span beyond less than a week since D.I. Charlie Hulme was head of an investigation that stretched nearly 3 years. The Commissioner practically breathing down their necks didn't help matters any.

They had interviewed two others in connection with Anderson's death. His team mate, Nate Mills and personal trainer, Simone Landon, apart from their victim possibly having an affair with the trainer. There was really nothing solid for them to work off of. Astonishingly, nearly 7 weeks had passed with the team hitting nothing but dead ends. Camille grazed over the suspects bank statements and phone records until hearing Richard let out an irascible groan.

"Camille, how am I expected to get any work done when your son is treating my insides like a bloody soccer ball?"

She looks up from the papers littering her desk, chuckling briefly before responding with a crossed expression.

"Ah, he's yours too, y'know?..Why are you putting de blame on me?"

Even though her reply sounded rather heated and chiding, she still managed a small smile in his direction. The Inspector sighs before bringing his faithful water bottle to his forehead.

"Once again, Camille. The French thing, that's why"

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It was nearing evening and the team had exhausted all efforts in wrapping the case up. It would just have to wait, once more, another day. Much to the dismay of everyone and the mounting frustration surrounding their Administrative Head. Fidel gathers his things and waves a "goodbye" towards the others.

"Night, Chief"

Dwayne's voice swiftly follows. It was just him and Camille left in the station. The inside remaining mostly dark, apart from a couple desk lamps and the bits of light from a setting sun filtering in. She flashes him a bit of a cheeky smile.

"So, what are your thoughts on me spending the night, tonight?"

Her tone almost as encapsulating as her expression. He raises a brow inquisitively. Heart starting to race with a surge of emotion. He'd never really felt this before, then again. He hadn't had to deal with pregnancy hormones taking the helm and at times, reducing him to feeling nothing more than a mutt to a trouser leg.

"I'd say I believe that can be arranged"

He smirks. One thing he'd dare actually label as an "upside" concerning his condition was how freeing in letting go some of his inhibitions. He even walked into the ocean up to his ankles a week prior. The couple retreat back to the "Shack". Finally a light, refreshing Caribbean breeze passing through. As expected, Harry, the Shack's own live-in resident lizard. Scurried across the porch's' sun-bleached railing. Briefly flicking his small pink tongue out towards the couple, unwavering beady eyes. Camille chuckles. The D.I. sighing rather playfully before sparing a glance in the reptile's direction.

"A little privacy, please?"

It was as if the small, green creature comprehended his every word. Flicking that bullet-like tongue out once more before darting away for good. A smile still lingered on her face, as she was already in the process of undressing. Within a matter of minutes she was standing before him in nothing but a bra and panties.

"Ready when you are"

She winks before climbing into the spacious bed. Richard isn't too far behind, abandoning his dress shirt and slacks to the old wooden floor. Now donning only boxers. It was rare she saw him in anything less than his pajamas (with the exception of the night of their son's conception, of course). He eases himself onto the bed, careful to not accidentally jostle the baby awake. This, surprisingly enough, was executed successfully.

He leans over her gingerly. Feeling her hot breath on the nape of his neck. Passionate gazes exchanged as the intimacy between them intensified. She smiles warmly as his lips press into hers, suddenly he feels a tiny foot strike out on his left side. He pauses before closing his eyes and sighing loudly. Her looking on in perplexity. He then slowly opens them and shoots a vexed glance down towards his stomach, grousing as his short fuse was now no more than a wick.

"Rude reptilians and even ruder fetuses"