Circles.

Who: Johnny and Sam
Where: ECPD Interrogation rooms
When: Mid-morning

Although Biddix Aaron Black (no wonder the jerk went by Aaron) turned out to be a living victim, it was still her case. Or their case. Sam wasn't too sure where Jakob was at the moment and he didn't seem to like talking with living people anyway. So Sam was on her own, sipping her amaretto with whipped cream watching one Arun "Johnny" Tang on the other side of the one way glass. He'd been picked in the wee hours of the morning and he looked worse for wear. The pen tended to do that to some people.

There'd been no record on him, but judging from the information that Sam had managed to get from one of her guys in C-Town, this guy was bad news. A bad egg with a temper. That was okay. Sam had a temper too.

Finally deciding that she'd made the "suspect" wait long enough, Sam entered the interrogation room with a thin folder and her coffee in hand. "Morning, Arun. Oh. Sorry, do you go by Johnny instead? Not sure how you guys work."

Okay, so maybe she was in a bad mood that day.

Johnny hated cops. Usually, they didn't pester him. Chinatown was his town - they knew that. He'd gotten away with all kinds of shit without the boys in blue batting an eyelid. But he shoulda fuckin' guessing that carving on a white boy would get him plunged into all kinds of hot water. Johnny was pissed that they'd found him though. I mean, they couldn't prove shit unless the scrub-chinned little dick ratted on him, and hopefully Johnny'd pounded him hard enough that he'd think twice - but the fact they'd traced the carving on Aaron's no-good guts back to him? Meant someone had squealed. People did not squeal on Johnny Tang.

So that had him pissy, as did being cooped up in fucking cell - but that all paled in comparison to the levels of irritation he felt at some fuckin' blonde bitch bein' his interrogative' officer. He wriggled down into the hard plastic of the seat he was in, devil-may-care slouch and non-plussed expression. He played nice with cops, as much as he could stand to - but with girl cops? That was gonna wriggle under his skin and not quit. What, they didn't think the little laundry chink boy was good enough for a proper officer? Bull. Shit.

"Johnny," he responded to her in a surly monotone, "Gotta pick out something you people can pronounce right, don't I?" he said, picking up on her own "you people" comment and hating her just that little bit more.

Sam shrugged, not really caring if Mr Polly Pissy-pants wanted to have an attitude. She could have one too. Two year olds had attitude. "Is that why you beat the shit outta that asshole the other day? Because I personally want to say congratulations on getting to him before I could. Boy was looking for a pounding I'm sure." And Sam actually meant it. So what if Aaron was a pretty good fuck? His overgrown baby attitude started to grate on her nerves after she reflected on the tantrum that he'd had.

Johnny open his mouth to say something about how most white-boy cocksuckers deserved a pounding, but then he caught what she was trying to do and grinned. Bitch couldn't get him that easy, no way. He wasn't some dumb slitty-eye like she thought, he was king of the fucking laundry. What was she? Piece of ass for some overweight inspector who figured giving her a job meant easier access? Fuck that. "Dunno what the fuck you're talking about," he said, not even noticing the swearword that slipped out, "I'm a fuckin' pacifist."

Sam raised her eyebrows although she wasn't surprised. "Really? Because he has this whiny voice when he doesn't get his way. And acts like King Shit. Did he hit on one of your girls? He has grabby hands. Hands that should be cut off." She nodded slowly. "But a knife in the dick? Dude, weak. Only a major pussy stabs instead of amputates."

Johnny didn't like being called a pussy, not by some dumb blonde cop , but she was trying to rile him and he knew it, so he kept sullen even if his eyes did blaze at the insult. "I dunno what you're talking about, sweetheart," he said with a sneer, "Ain't none of my girls who'd run off for a white boy, so why I gotta worry?" the way he failed to roll the R in 'worry' was the first hint he'd given at the Asian accent that lay beneath his carefully constructed Western façade - but it was hard keeping every barrier up at once. "I didn't put a blade to no-one, and if you're gonna keep suggesting it, I want a lawyer."

"I'm not suggesting it. One of your bitches could've stabbed him but if this is the case, then someone's trying to frame you, Golden Boy. That's not cool. If one of my buddies did that, I'd bust a cap in his kneecaps." Sam shrugged and sipped from her coffee. "But I also didn't say any of your girls would run off with a white boy, just that he'd cause problems. Self-defense is perfectly acceptable. Mr. Black has quite the temper on him and if you were just defending yourself, then we can drop the charges."

Johnny snorted, she could play this game with him for hours, he knew she didn't have shit to stick on him. He hadn't even been arrested - it was just questioning. This bitch was so far up her own ass it made Johnny wanna puke. "Look, don't pull that on me, everyone knows it's law of the jungle in my part of town, the police don't give a shit, but as soon as some white boy pegs it? You pick up one of the most influential people you can find and pin shit on him. It. Wasn't. Me. Get it through your head, sugar. The Golden Boys run a delivery service. Nothing illegal there. So fuck you." he said, swatting a hand on the counter that lay between them, and pushing himself further back into his chair. It was true, his boys had the flimsiest cover as a courier company, although you'd have to be a complete moron to buy it. Johnny thought it was pretty decent.

One of the most influential people you can find.... It was hard for Sam not to bust out laughing but she was a cop and she schooled her features to look more serious. "I'm sorry, sir. I'm used to dealing with punk-ass children who think more of themselves than they're worth. I'm pretty ignorant when it comes to the ways of other cultures. Please forgive me." She lowered her eyes to the open folder in her hands, the list of information that the informant had provided. It wasn't much, but it was enough to show that Johnny was a vicious troublemaker in Chinatown and possible Lotus connections. Nothing a large sum of money and a promise to help relocate couldn't weasel out.

Johnny narrowed his eyes at the bitch's tone. Fucking cop slut he thought, biting his tongue as best he could, She thinks she's better than me. Fucking up her own ass bitch. He caught that fucking snark about dealing with children. She needed to be taken down a couples notches. No-one spoke to Johnny like that and lived to do it again. "Then maybe you oughtta get back to nannying, and either let me go, or let me get a lawyer," spat Johnny, his tone making his annoyance obvious, "You okay with that, or do you gotta hit up your fuckin' boss?" Johnny doubted they let the little woman make any of her own decisions. Which was why he was so insulted to be being questioned by her. He deserved a proper fucking cop, not this farce.

Sam shrugged, closing the folder. "I just wanted to ask a few questions, that's all. But if you're so adamant about it, I guess I could draw up some official charges, but it'd take awhile and you'd have to go back to the cage while I go talk to the DA, get it approved, get you arraigned. So if you don't mind staying until Monday, I'll do that now." Frankly, she didn't feel like investigating this at all. The victim was (sadly) alive, but the son of a bitch wasn't talking. Yet anyway, but it seemed enough for the Captain to send her on in for questioning.

"Then get to asking, sugar," sneered Johnny, thinking she oughtta be a bit quicker about whatever the hell it was she wanted. He was a busy guy, y'know? "What the fuck do you wanna know?"

"I'd like to know what happened the other night that resulted in this douchebag with a knife in his nuts," she said simply. "And why he had 'Golden Boy Bitch' carved into him. Now, if you didn't do it, someone might be trying to get you into some trouble and I'll do what I can to help." Why couldn't Jakob be questioning this guy? Was the Captain getting his jollies on at her struggling with some asshole who didn't like women or something? Because this didn't feel like it was getting anywhere. "We don't want a gang war starting up on the streets."

"Maybe he did the carving hisself, hoping for some sweet employ, you know?" said Johnny with a shrug, taking his relaxed pose one step further and swinging his legs up onto the table between he and Sam, "How I gonna know? And don't worry 'bout no gang war, sweetheart. Golden Boys laundry delivery service don't be wanting in on any of that nastiness. Next question. You want my number?" he said with casual rudeness. She probably thought he was fly, heck, most bitches did.

Sam remained seated properly in her chair, watching Johnny closely. He clearly thought so highly of himself, that he was so smooth and so convincing. "You sure about that, Johnny?" she asked. "Sure it won't start any gang war? How can you be so sure?" Because she knew who Aaron worked for. While he was no one to start any fights over, least of all a war, she was interested in his reasons.

Bitch, I answered that question, someone oughtta slap the schoolteacher outta you... Johnny thought to himself, scowling. "Yeah. Sure. Why'd I wanna do a thing like that? Just wanna get back to minding my own business, yeah? That fly cool with you?" he said, studying his fingernails rather than her. She was too blonde for his liking, too uptight. Needed to be shown how a real woman needed to act. He would put money of the fact she was a fucking dyke.

"You're lying so could you stop?" Sam asked, tilting her head back and looking up at the ceiling. "Because you look like an idiot." She looked back at him, boredom clear on her face. She was running around in circles with this guy and Sam wasn't sure if she was more annoyed with him or with the boss for telling her to come question this guy. "I've got witnesses that pin you and your boys jumping Neanderthal Jones the other night and I've got statements pinning several other crimes against you so just give it up." Ask for a lawyer officially so I can just get out of here. Her head was starting to ache again but her flask was in her desk and she wouldn't have slipped in a sip even if she had it.

Johnny sneered and looked back at her, swinging his legs off the desk and leaning forwards, his hands clasped. He gave her a look of pure scorn. "If you're so goddamn bored, you can let me go. I've told you what I gotta tell you. Don't you accuse me of lying." he hissed, his tone was angry. She was pissing him off beyond all fucking reason.

Sam shrugged again. The pounding inside her head was getting worse and she didn't really care if she got yelled at for cutting Johnny loose. "Okay," she said simply. "See ya." Because he was right, after all. They were only wasting their time (or her time?) on him. She gave him a little wave. Yes. Please go.

Johnny frowned and leaned backwards, slightly taken aback at her sudden change of heart. "What? Seriously?" he said, frowning suspiciously and looking at the door to see if there was someone waiting with cuffs or not.

Sam shrugged again. God, it was like one of her little cousins. "I'm a cop. I don't lie and I have nothing to gain from keeping you here since you're so adamant that you didn't do anything and frankly, you're kind of wasting my time." She picked at a thumbnail, playing up her boredom a little more. She'd talk to Jakob about the best course of action. This case needed to be bounced to another department now anyway.

He pulled himself to his feet with a swagger and an unmistakeable air of "fuck you". He walked towards the door with heavily rolled shoulders, wondering what the fuck that had been about. Chick cops were a pointless waste of time. Oughtta show 'em where they belonged. He paused, and shot her a look - a grin dripping with malice. "Oh, hey, what did you say your name was? Case I uh, y'know, remember anything?" or decide to look you up and teach you why you don't talk to me like I'm a child, "Decide I gotta get all my woes offa my chest, that kinda crap?"

"You can ask for Detective Tyler," she said. "Or Detective Hollis, but, to be honest with you, if Black lives, well, we probably won't be handling the case any more." Sam didn't want to give Johnny her name directly. She knew better than that. She was half tempted to say 'Giacomo', but a, she was in her workplace and b, he was probably too stupid to realize that Giacomo meant DiGiovanni.

Johnny gave her the most sarcastic salute he could muster, and snorted as he walked out. Fucking cops. Fucking chicks. Yeah. He'd teach her a thing or two. He smirked to himself - no wonder she'd let him go. Intimidated as fuck, no doubt. Stupid blonde dyke slut.