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

[helloneighbor]

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.]

Comments

[hoshikiri]

[Well. At least he's alive. Whether that's fortunate or not Takame wasn't sure. And while his balance has returned with his tail and he could have a prime opportunity here to learn something, he was hesitant to actually try entering. At least without the aid of aetherial stealth.

Though it did not stop him from peaking over where Harding slept, circling the perimeter of his car with the same caution and looking past his hair and hood into the windows for anything worthy of concern.

Besides maybe some Booze. It was a cursory glance, nothing that would detect anything aside from what's painfully obvious. And when he made his way back to where he started, he gave Harding himself a long head to toe scan thrice over. A man like any other, Takame presumed. As a test of just how asleep Harding was, Takame cleared his throat softly but in a way that's clearly meant to get attention.]

[helloneighbor]

[There's not much to be found inside Harding's car. There's the man himself, sleeping with his flask held close to his stomach, a golden band on his ring finger, but not much else of interest. His handgun is holstered at his hip. Unlike the strange guns wielded by the other police officers, his is an actual gun. Other than that, there are no other weapons in the car.

Harding's snoring drowns out the softer noise Takame makes. Looks like you're going to need to be a little less polite and a little more loud if you want to get his attention.]

[hoshikiri]

[An engaged man, armed and dangerous, in a stable occupation and holding onto his flask for dear life. Painted quite a picture. And now Takame knew just how deep he slept while far in his cups. Either that or this was an extremely well trained actor. Information noted.

Useful should he need to secure more in the future through sneaking. Half as a test, half in genuine...ly artificial concern, Takame finally spoke.]

Ser Harding? [A pause waiting for response, followed by a light knocking of his hand against the side of the vehicle.]

[helloneighbor]

[Harding mumbles something — or perhaps more accurately, grunts something — incomprehensible and slurred, but that's about as far as he goes to responding to Takame.

One of his legs awkwardly hangs over the side of his seat. Shifting to get comfortable, Harding puts both legs on the passenger seat and stretches out. His sudden movement kicks up something previously unseen from the floor of the car: a small black wallet, scuffed and worn.]

[hoshikiri]

[Confirmed: Completely Out. But the wallet certainly caught Takame's attention.

He looked over the window for a clearer view of said wallet, if anything in it shuffled or fell out that was useful to him. If the window was cracked open enough even he with his rather bulky, but still long arms could reach and have a look inside.

Taking a long, deep breath to keep stray movement to a minimum, whether he saw something else or not he reached inside of the car with his aim being the wallet. Not even to take, just to flip open to see its contents. Easily mistaken for everything having fallen out in the man's sleep.]

[helloneighbor]

[The window is cracked open just enough for Takame to slip his hand inside. Reaching the wallet is a bit of a stretch, but with some straining and flattening himself against the door for maximum leverage, he should be able to get his arm in all the way up to his elbow, enough to flip over the wallet with the tips of his fingers.

The wallet isn't bulky or filled with much of anything, save for the faint impression of money in the side fold and what looks like a faded movie ticket stuck in one of the picture holders. The other holders appear to be empty, save for one in the very back which has what looks like a picture inserted in it. Only the back end is visible to Takame; the front is stuck to the plastic of the holder in front of it — an easy fix if he had the wallet in his hands, but he'll have to keep stretching if he wants to grab hold of it.

Harding's chest continues to rise and fall.]

[hoshikiri]

[Covered from head to toe as he was, hands even covered to hide his scales, there was no risk of them scratching against any surfaces and making unneeded noise. That picture was worth investigating, he thought.

With breath still held securely he did just that, stretched his arms further in to take hold of and retrieve the wallet to get a closer look at that picture. This wasn't his first song and dance taking something without detection, that much was obvious in how steady he was pulling the thing out.]

[helloneighbor]

[It takes a few tries, but Takame is able to separate the holders with his fingernails, while edging the wallet closer to him. Now that he has it in his hand, he'll be able to flip it open and get a good look at the photograph nestled inside. The image looks washed-out and yellow, as if the picture were taken years ago. Adding to this is how delicate it is; with a few fingers, Takame would be able to wedge a finger into the holder and take the picture out by inches, feeling how soft and thin the film is, like it could fall to pieces under the smallest bit of force.

click]

Drop it.

[The sight Takame is greeted with when he looks up is a simple one: Harding has his handgun pointed at him. He's sitting on his back, pressed up against the door just enough to give him the perfect line of sight to aim at Takame's head. His trigger finger is deathly still.]

[hoshikiri]

[A photo, years old and poor in quality, children donning costumes as they were during the month of 'October.' An image committed to memory.

Even as he looked up to see himself staring down a handgun's barrel with a hasty breath through his nose and a quickly forming scowl. Given he was wearing a hood much of his horns and scales were hidden behind it and his hair, but the smallest flash of some sharp teeth were visible when he opened his mouth to breathe.

He didn't dispute. He dropped the wallet back on the floor, hands still steady and being risen in fashion of surrender. He logged what he needed in his mind and prepared excuses, lies, should they be necessary.]

I mean you no harm.

[helloneighbor]

I believe you.

[He doesn't. The way Takame looks doesn't make Harding bat an eye. Either that or he's a incredibly good actor. His sunglasses slip down his nose, his eyes like cold steel, and he speaks in a flat, even tone. He doesn't sound the least bit drunk.

He starts to edge himself upright and lean forward, both hands still on the gun, still aiming between Takame's eyes. As he moves, he gives his head a little jerk to the right.]

Move. [I won't say it again, that tone says.]

[hoshikiri]

[Takame's given Harding no reason not to believe him thus far. The look Takame is given is reflected right back at the officer, not the look one should have when having a gun pointed at his head. Unphased, like this was the last thing that would strike fear into his cold heart.

The tone was heeded regardless. Without putting his hands down, he moved in the direction Harding gestured to, never taking his eyes off the man while doing so and making no other sudden movements.]

[helloneighbor]

Yeah, yeah. [That's it. Harding puts himself up on one knee as he slowly picks himself up and out of the car, using the promise of the gun to get Takame to give him some room to get out.

Once he's on his feet outside, his eyes flick quickly down at the ground. His wallet sits by his foot; it must've been knocked over on his way out.]

Did you open that?

[hoshikiri]

... Open? [His equally even tone didn't shift as he feigned ignorance and his eyes also flicked briefly to the wallet he did, in fact, open. Then they locking onto Harding again.]

Hm. So that is what that I felt. [No noticeable change in his tone as he voiced the lie. The way his voice trailed off could almost imply a bit of surprise, as if he wasn't aiming to open or even touch it at all.]

[helloneighbor]

You've got some balls lying with a gun in your face.

[It's not even a very good lie. Harding awoke to a scaly man trying to stick his arm in Harding's window, straining and stretching to reach the wallet on the passenger seat. He'd stayed still, continuing to breathe slowly, his shades dark enough to hide his eyes as he watched Takame's fingers scrabble at the wallet.]

Was it really worth it? [He sincerely doubts it and makes no attempt at hiding it.]

[hoshikiri]

Hmph. [A poor lie it may be, it was also an effective test. Exposed Takame may be, he's gotten information out of this encounter. And despite the threatening words, his tone didn't falter.

Though displeasure towards said threat was clear in his twitching tail hidden under his coat.]

I'll not blame you for your suspicion, ser. But I assure you this: I mean you no harm or ill intent otherwise. [That much was true. He didn't attack Harding, had no weapons on him (not that he needed them), and hasn't lowered his arms at all since this began.] 'Twas merely the actions of a citizen concerned about the immobile officer in his vehicle. [Also the truth, if three quarters of it.]

[helloneighbor]

Harm this.

[Harding takes one hand off his gun. Snaps his fingers sharply. The sound strikes Takame's head like a gavel.

It happens in the blink of an eye — an invisible force washes over Takame's brain, obliterating his suspicion, deceit, and every ounce of negativity in his body. All that's left is innocent and overwhelming happiness as the third stage of Tranquilization takes effect.]

Go home. And if I catch you nosing around here again, you're not getting off so easy.

[hoshikiri]

[THANKS FOR NOTHING HYDAELYN

The moment "harm" was uttered, fight-- was the following thought. One that didn't get to finish before his head felt split wide open...

open...

Open... home... at home... there was mail. Oh heavens, he hasn't checked the mail in a few days, has he? He must have so much of it to open. Well, he was the man of the house, after all. From a sharp forming snarl a moment ago to a beaming smile, Takame looked at his wrist as if he wore a watch and waved Harding goodbye.]

Ah, would you look at the time! I'd best head home after all. Good talking to you, officer.