Clack clack clack clack.
You could set your watch to the report of her sensible heels on the way through the station. Her advance on the hapless desk jockies drew the attention of the assorted junkies and police personnel engaged in the cycle of justice in the precinct waiting area. Her lips, pressed into an impassive dash, bore a faint nude shade. Her eyes, implacably focused, were only faintly outlined. Her hair, auburn brown, was worn in a pixie that seemed more utilitarian than whimsical. She stood just over five-and-a-half feet in those heels, a far cry from a figure that most would consider intimidating, but she was intimidating all the same. Her garb was unremarkable save for its spotlessness and paucity of wrinkles- navy skirt, white blouse, navy jacket, probably off the rack. What she truly wore was authority. She was not a beautiful woman, but her compact, athletic form and severity blended (perhaps too soft a word) into something as it was untouchable.
She halted in front of the desk and waited to be addressed, holding a slim briefcase in unremarkable brown leather at her side.
"Ma'am...?" The green officer behind the desk glanced nervously to his right at a colleague who was suddenly paying very keen attention to the log book in front of him.
She withdrew a passport-sized folio from her briefcase and slid it toward him, all the while pinning him in place with her dull brown eyes.
"Agent Waters of the DHHS." Her tone was clipped, but mostly bored. Inside the folio was a slim badge and identification that would verify her identity under any degree of scrutiny. "Your captain should already have gotten a call." The officer was still looking over her credentials. He nodded egregiously.
"Umm, yes, ma'am, I mean, Agent Waters. If you'd like to have a se-" She cut him off with a glare. "Right. I'll just get my sergeant." He backed away slowly before quick-stepping off to find someone of a sufficient pay-grade. She reclaimed possession of her documentation, but kept it close in hand. The officer returned with a slightly older man who seemed decidedly less deferential- at least until he laid eyes on Agent Waters. He waved off his subordinate and approached her, keeping the desk between them.
"Captain Pask is occupied, but I've been instructed to assist you in any way I can." There was a grudging note to his tone. In his ample experience, the appearance of federal agents seldom meant less paperwork. "Would you like to come to the office? Coffee? Wa-" Again, a single glare. Her features weren't particularly expressive- it was just a hardening of the eyes, but it was undeniably effective.
"That won't be necessary. I'm here about a Caucasian male, mid-twenties, shoulder-length blond hair, involved in a recent traffic incident and disturbance report. He was taken here from the scene by one of your detectives, I understand."
The sergeant and officer shared a glance. "You work quick," the sergeant offered mildly. "Velez has him in Room 4." He smirked.
She stared at him. He had nearly a foot of height on her, but she managed to appear condescending all the same.
"Let me show you to her," he grunted, peeling away from the desk to do just that. A general sense of ease settled over the area as she departed.
"Gotta say, been on the job a while and never had a call from Health."
She didn't seem to have heard him. Clack clack clack clack clack.
The sergeant knocked heavily at the door to Room 4, eager to make Waters someone else's problem. For her part, the presumed agent of the Department of Health and Human Services waited at near-attention, her briefcase held with both hands against her hips.
