logsville | (open) you're gonna need a heap of glue when they all catch up with you

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(open) you're gonna need a heap of glue when they all catch up with you

Who: Chief of Police Dale Harding and YOU
When: January 16th — February 1st
Where: Throughout town
What: Santa Rosita's very dignified chief of police makes some very dignified appearances around town, meeting and greeting some very undignified people.
Warnings: Language, alcohol abuse, one man's poor life choices.

[Interesting fact: Approximately 25-30% of drinkers are resistant to hangover symptoms.

Dale Harding is not in that percentage.

Santa Rosita's chief of police is certainly an elusive figure. Many of you likely haven't seen him since the Christmas gala. In fact, as you go about your business today, running errands throughout Shadyside and Santa Rosita, you might even miss him altogether. But once you notice the 5'7 man with his unbuttoned sleeve cuffs and distinct lack of service jacket or hat that would mark him as an officer, save for the shiny silver badge pinned to his belt along with the holstered handgun, it's difficult to ignore him. He doesn't look like the other police officers you've seen around town with their plastic smiles and neatly pressed suits. For starters, he doesn't smile at all — and that's not likely to change no matter what he's doing and where you see him.

Harding doesn't keep morning hours, so you're more likely to spot him in the afternoon and at night. Most of the time, you'll see him slowly driving through Shadyside in his police cruiser. Occasionally, he'll be parked in front of Santa Rosita Elementary, always at lunchtime, watching the kids play at recess with his flask to his lips. Other times, you'll see him parked in Rose Garden Park, lying back in the front seat with his sunglasses on. You don't realize it yet, but this will all make sense when you get closer and notice, perhaps not inconspicuously, the string of drool trailing from his lips.

And yet, rarest of all, you'll see him on foot in North Santa Rosita. In the morning and at night, he'll go to the Blue Moon Diner, the bell over the door jingling as he walks in and takes a seat at the counter. Ordering a cheeseburger and coffee, he'll sit silently waiting for his food with his elbows on the table, his fingers laced, pressing his forehead into his hands.

Surely this is the best time to say hello!

ooc: The mods will respond to tags for Harding until February 1st. Please try to keep your interactions with him brief! He is a busy man, after all.]

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[ bruce puts a seat between them at the counter and orders a black coffee, dressed in a simple pair of jeans and a warm jacket. underneath those, he wears his batsuit, cowl and other accessories snugly in the backpack beside him. he doesn't make much small talk, but harding will find that his meal has already been paid for. if he so happens to look, bruce will pass him a courtesy smile and a nod. ]

Long day?

[Sans doesn't exactly have any plans to do detective work, but sometimes a sleeping guy in a police car gets dropped onto your lap. Or into the park? Whatever.

Sans's approach is casual, because he's almost never not casual. He's actually checking to see if this is a regular afternoon nap or a "I drank too much" nap, though, insofar as one can distinguish that through a window. It mostly involves looking for that flask he saw Harding drinking out of at the Christmas party.]

[ Vasiliy knows in his very core that he would see this man for what he is even without the badge, the gun holstered on the same side of the body as his own. He's met what must be a million iterations of this man, all neatly lined up in his memory like ripples spreading outward from a central point.

Control.

He's not wearing his service jacket to the diner; he doesn't need to. As he lights his cigarette a few seats down, Vasiliy could swear he feels the cool metal of his uniform jacket's buttons under his fingertips for the first time in years: the gentle pull of the coarse fabric as he deliberately moved his gigline off-center, the smell of mildew, the release of pressure at the base of his throat as he undid his collar by two buttons, normally enough to be backhanded by a supervisor. How icy the door handles to the interrogation rooms always were against his fingers.

Look, he said, Harding said, I'm one of you. I'm not a threat.

He knows otherwise. The man's clearly a drunk, but so was everyone he worked with, really. Goes hand-in-hand, and it never made anyone less brutal. Point being: the slumped figure a mere few feet away decides if he lives or dies, and Vasiliy knows it.

He deliberately untenses his shoulders, removes some of the blankness from his face—these people see neutrality as aggression, generally speaking—and gets up, canting his head to one side, swallowing back his fear to greet an imagined coworker as an equal: upright, unafraid, every muscle in his body asserting that he's not prey. He reaches for the flask in the pocket of his jacket and holds it out. ]

Hair of dog?

Edited (shit fuck forgot a sentence. doing great lads) 2021-01-16 23:47 (UTC)

[Harding is being Watched. Has been for a while, though from a far distance by a hooded coat donning Takame sitting on a bench in the park. All he saw the officer doing was. Sitting. Motionless. And from as far away as he was he couldn't tell if he was breathing or not. His form returned, his eyes have not.

Nothing for it but to go closer, though he was cautious in his approach. Careful steps shifting his weight carefully so as to not disturb even a leaf or puddle that would give him away, trying to get near enough to spot a sign of breathing. Or anything else of note.]

( Respect for authority? Never heard of her. There's a rather abrupt knuckle-knock on the passenger's side window. )

Hey. Barney Fife. You stare any harder at those kids they're gonna call in Chris Hansen.

( Don't creepily watch children while you sadly day-drink, dude, that puts off some real Vibes. )

[ lorna, as it turns out, is not the most domestic person on earth. she can make some very basic dishes and she and sans have managed to make do with pasta, toast, canned vegetables, and eggs for a while, but she quite frankly gets sick of it after a while. so every so often, she'll head to the diner in order to pick up dinner or breakfast. recently she's taken notice of a man, always in the same spot at the counter, always looking a little more run down. she doesn't recognize him as being part of the group who doesn't belong, but there's something obviously different about him that intrigues her.

her dinner and breakfast orders become more frequent, as she keeps hoping to spot him. it's at least three days into this that she finally breaks her silence, keeping her tone carefully neutral as she speaks up. ]

Cheeseburger for breakfast? I guess you are getting protein in early.

[After a considerable amount of time in this place, Cassandra's come to understand the workings of it far better than she had upon waking up for the first time. Barring a few mess-ups with the latest technology, of course. One thing in particular that clicked rather quickly was the local police; really, they were just another kind of royal guard. Law keepers.

Besides the general... wariness about the state of things, Cass had an interest in that. After all, she'd been a guard... almost. At one point, anyway.

Which leads to her slowly approaching the car parked in front of Rose Garden, unsure of what to really expect before she peers in through a window.

...Just like the guards. Time for a quick rap of her knuckles against the glass.]

[archer was not tailing harding and honestly? has not thought about him since that christmas... whatever it was. party? no, can't call it that. gathering. cult gathering. that feels right. he fully had not expected to see the police chief again until-- well, he's not sure, actually. he's been too busy getting blackout drunk (mood, bro) to actually start planning on how to deal with any of this.

that was lucky, archer thinks as he buys his own coffee and recognises harding, even for me. i think.

he unceremoniously flops down into the opposite seat, purposefully angling his cane under the table so it'll get in the way if harding wants to get up (that one's just out of spite) and takes his own flask out to pour in his coffee.]

Speak, asshole.

[Luckily, Kipo isn't in her cat form today. She does see him walking around, and thinks to herself "ohh, he looks like he's doing something important!" so naturally she has to interrupt.]

Hey! What cha doing?

[Okuyasu hasn't had much to to at home.

Sure, he has school and cleans his room, but now there's an actual adult helping out around the house, leaving him with a lot more free time than he's used to.

Most of that time, he's taking walks in the daylight (in case something pops up in the night and tries to kill him) and exploring Santa Rosita. Today, he has the cold Rose Garden Park to visit.

It takes little time for him to recognize the police cruiser just sitting outside. It's...so easy. He's right here. Should he try to beat him up and ask questions? Should he tail him? Should he do something else? Why didn't he bring someone smart with him on this walk.

Regardless, he sneaks up to the window to find that this guy is the sloppiest sleeper he's ever seen.

...

Well, maybe he can vandalize the car just a bit with the spare key to the house while he thinks. It's not going to solve anything, but he'll feel a lot better.]

Threaded | Flat

blue moon diner

Rose Garden Park

through the other | diner | cw for nongraphic purge mentions + smoking, manipulative behavior

rose garden park

Santa Rosita Elementary

blue moon diner

Rose Garden Park

blue moon diner! let harding eat one meal in peace 2k21

North Santa Rosita

Rose Garden Park