Manhattan flat, 9:30 PM, Tuesday December 26...
Bela Talbot stumbled into the dark apartment, flicking on the hallway light and hanging up her thick woolen coat. Sliding her keys onto the hook by the door, the twenty-nine-year-old walked into the kitchen, stepping out of her shoes as she went.
"Andrea, I'm home," she called into the dark apartment.
"I'm upstairs," Andrea Patterson yelled back. "And I'm working, so don't expect food."
Making a face, Bela climbed the stairs and entered the cramped work room Andrea had holed herself up in. The left side of room was Andrea's and the right side was Bela's, leaving them each with just enough room to work in without losing their minds. On Andrea's side was a pile of old newspapers, a stack of reference books (a dictionary, thesaurus, and grammar book among them, as per her job as a journalist for the New York Times), and a jar of pens, pencils and highlighters. Her laptop was half closed and a few random papers littered the desk. A blue water bottle sat uncapped beside her laptop.
Bela's side was marginally more organized, with a similar jar of writing tools, a collection of books about serial killers, forensics, mental illnesses, and psychological profiling, as per her job as Lieutenant for NYPD's homicide unit. Among the files scattered over her desk was her closed laptop, a charging iPod, and an unfinished police report.
"You're home late."
"Drug bust took longer than I thought," Bela replied tiredly, shrugging off the harness that held her gun. She slung it over the back of her chair, locking the safety into place.
"How was your day?" Andrea asked absentmindedly, keying away at her laptop as she spoke. Her lips moved as she typed her article for the next morning, then pursed together as she paused. "No, that's not right," she muttered barely audibly, backspacing in frustration.
Bela sank into the chair opposite her, rubbing her hand over her face. "Exhausting," she sighed, thinking of the report that she still needed to file. "But productive," she admitted, reflecting on the drug bust she had finally executed today. The one she had been prepping for all month.
"Good," Andrea responded, still keying away. "Listen, do you want to get takeout tonight? I'm all tied up with this damn article and it doesn't look like I'll be done very soon."
"Sure," Bela yawned. She opened her oversized black tote bag and began piling things onto her desk. Cell phone, pager, planner, notebook…
Andrea glanced away from her laptop long enough to see Bela remove a taser from her bag. "I don't know how you carry that thing around," she commented. "It's heavier than your entire desk."
"The trials of being an officer of the law," Bela replied dryly. "Who needs a gun when you've got a twenty-pound purse?"
Andrea smiled, turning back to her laptop. "Why is this city so messed up?" she asked aloud, staring at her laptop blankly.
"Says the journalist to the cop."
"Who knows better than we do how bad situations can get?" Andrea asked rhetorically.
"Victims."
Andrea finally closed out of the document, shutting her laptop off. "I'm going to call for pizza," she announced, reaching for her cell phone. "I need some stuffed crust in my system before I'm mentally stable enough to look at that again."
As Andrea ordered the pizza, Bela powered up her own laptop and was a quarter through reviewing her notes on the bust to write up her report when her phone buzzed. "What now?" she snapped exasperatedly, reaching over to take a look.
Andrea hung up the phone and turned towards Bela. "What's going on?"
Bela read her text aloud, her tone emotionless. "Dead body found in apartment on Broadway. Get over here now."
As she read the address, Bela slung her harness back on, clicking the safety off. "Sorry, you know the drill," she apologized to Andrea.
Andrea, who did indeed know the drill better than she would have liked, followed her downstairs. "Be careful."
"Yes, Mother." Lacing up her boots, Bela hid a smirk at the annoyance she could sense on Andrea's face.
"And get me some details for a new story."
Bela straightened up and swung her coat back on again. "I'm not technically allowed to do that."
Andrea shrugged unconcernedly. "I'll be done there in an hour or so anyways. The paper will want me to cover the murder."
Bela sighed, knowing her friend to be right. Unfortunately, crimes were already complicated enough without the press, she thought sourly. "Yeah, yeah, I know the drill."
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A/N: Hello there! I know it's been ages, I'm so sorry. School has been insane (life in general, too, actually) but I wanted to bring you something new, finally. This is just a little intro chapter to the new AU and yeah, I invented this girl Andrea for one of my friends, but also because the thought of Bela living alone while a cop in NYC made me sad. Tell me what you think, lovelies, I missed you SO MUCH! :)