some people are hard cases

Who: Danny and December
Where: The morgue
When: late

After his altercation of sorts with Brett, Danny’s day hadn’t gotten any better. He’d fumed his way through the rest of the day, avoiding people, Brett especially and reading through the files, trying to find something in the evidence that might get them somewhere. He was still pissed at just about everything, but finishing off his flask over the course of the day had helped keep the direct edge off of things. Not finding anything new he left, headed towards the morgue to see if he could find something else. Walking outside he was surprised to find it was dark and he wondered if Janey was missing him yet. Likely not, any other day he’d been at a bar now.

Pushing open the doors to the morgue he flashed his badge, looking around for the coronor on duty, hoping someone had good news. He could use good news. It might ease the twitch in cheek or the fact that his shoulders were still bunched, ready for a fight.

December was going over the bodies that had piled up from the gallery disaster the night before, basically going over her notes again to be sure she had everything down, and to be sure no more post-mortem bruising had showed up after a little time. She was sitting on a swivel chair, tilted back with her feet up on one of the tables (that had a corpse on it), clip board in her lap as she read things over. Behind her sat the strange mechanical looking crow, or raven or whatever it was, set up to look like he was lording over the room. Around his neck was a doc collar that had a name inscribed on it: 'Poe'.

When the officer came in, she looked over. "Got someone new for me?" she asked, since usually that was why people showed up there at this hour.

Danny hadn’t been expecting December, but mostly because he didn’t realize just how late it was. Looking around he tried to get a handle on himself, but wound up just staring at her for a moment. On the upside though, seeing her shifted some of the frustration and angry into the part of him that had an undying urge to save people. For some reason, besides the obvious of course, Danny had always felt that way about December. “No,” he answered finally shaking his head. “You have something new for me?” He wasn’t growling, which was something that bordered on being an improvement, but he still sounded gruff and frustrated.

"I've got fuck all that's new." December said, utterly ignoring his tone. "People are still dead, some are shot, some are knifed and bludgeoned, and basically? No one's all that pretty. Sadly, no one left a card on anyone that said 'I did it, come get me, here's my address'." she said.

Danny gave her a sardonic look and moved closer to look at the body. “Nothing? We don’t even know who these fuckers are?” he asked, now sounded frustrated again and avoiding eye contact with her. He was hating that it seemed liked whomever was doing all this was just laughing at the department like it was some big joke. “You’ve got to have something. You’ve had these guys all day.”

"Weirdly enough? Most dudes who don masks and go rushing into places to...I dunno, kill people or rob them or both, don't carry ID." December said. "It's a thing. As in intelligent. About all I can give you about that is I'd guess they had someone calling shots, and that means you're looking for someone who either runs a gang, or maybe mob affiliations." she told him, shrugging. "As for the dead, I haven't had them all day, I just got here a little while ago, thanks. I don't actually sleep in one of the drawers, contrary to popular belief. I did have them all last night, but all that means is I can tell you how they died. If they died instantly or bled a while. I can't tell you if their killer had blue eyes or not. You done having me do your job for ya?" she asked, giving him a Look this time.

“I wouldn’t call running into a place to kill or rob people intelligent,” Danny pointed out, cringing when she mentioned mob connections. Fantastic. Just more muddy water to dunk themselves into, more potential for turned witnesses and everything else. Rubbing his forehead he looked up in time for a look. “I meant you as a collective you. You can’t be the only one who does any work here.” He never assumed she slept in a drawer here. If he’d assumed that he would have offered her the guest bedroom at his apartment. Better than sleeping in a cold, foul smelling morgue. “Anything new on the park killings?” he asked, matching her look with one of his own.

December arched a brow at him. "...tell me you're being facetious, and you're not a total fucking moron." she said flatly. "I said not carrying ID was intelligent, because if anything happens it doesn't automatically sell out your entire crew. Not that going in in the first place is intelligent. Jesus, no wonder crime is running rampant in this city if crack cops like you are on the case." she said, rolling her eyes. "And you'd think I was the only one working here lately. I got called in for the park. I was here for over twenty four fucking hours." she said, though that was with a sigh, that wasn't Danny's fault. "And unfortunately, no. But I told another detective at the scene that I'm not going to be able to crack that case. There's no real information for it. If it's an attack, I can help. Like..." she paused, then glanced up at the body on the table between them. "The one who got this poor sucker was right handed, most likely." she said. "But with the park, the kind of attack it was...there won't be details like that. All it is was 'huge rusty spikes fell from the sky and most of these poor assholes didn't die instantly, though probably wished they did'." she said, and she actually sounded regretful that she couldn't offer anything more on that. She wished she could.

Danny gave her a look. “I’m being..whatever that word was,” he said waving a hand. He wasn’t a moron. He just didn’t like calling criminals like these thugs intelligent. Lucky or smart for the moment was one thing, but it wasn’t like the crime was that impressive. They weren’t smart they were just well trained. When she sighed with the comment about working too long he softened the slightest bit, not wanting to see them overwork her even if she probably was one of the best they had. Tucking his hands in his pockets he looked at her, trying to seem less angry and hardened, but it wasn’t easy. “We’re hitting nothing but brick walls. It’s gonna be a while before prints come back on these guys. Any marks I can work with? Old bruises, tattoos anything?”

"Every one of them had some scars that you get in street fights. Tattoos...there were a couple but they were fairly crude, probably not professionally done. I would know." She was a tattoo artist. "As for old bruises, nothing all that telling, just your average 'oops, I knocked into the doorframe' types, nothing special or identifying. If I had anything solid, I'd have reported it already." she told him. "There just...isn't much really."

Danny glanced at the body again and slammed his fist into the metal table, which hurt, but the pain helped clear his head a little. “Fuck,” he grumbled before rubbing his knuckles with his other hand. “Street thugs then, run of the mill. Hell, I’ve probably arrested some of them.” They were getting nowhere. The gallery was ransacked, so robbing it wasn’t the goal, the goal was to cause pain and injury, which meant for some reason the gallery was targeted.

December dropped her clip board and was up on her feet in a second, stalking directly up to Danny to glare up at him. "Oh hell no! You do not come in here and start punching my equipment like some fucking overgrown child! You check that shit at the door or you get the hell out of my morgue!" she snapped at him, highly unimpressed at the display there. "This shit ain't yours! And it's definitely not yours to fucking put dents in! What the hell's the matter with you, running around punching shit?" Maybe she wasn't all that intimidating with as damn short as she was, but her tone was pretty loud and powerful. So was the pissed off look in her eye.

Danny actually took a stop back when she got about as much in his face as she could. “I...” he started to counter, tone angry at being chastised but he completely lost track of the words he wanted to say. He was never one to admit that he was scared of a small thing like her, but she was rather intimidating. “I don’t think I dented it. More likely broke my hand,” he grumbled before taking another few steps away and dropping into a chair. Running his hands over his head he looked down at the ground, trying to think but not getting anywhere. Much like this fucking case. His fingers clawed at his hair for a moment longer before he glanced up. “Sorry.”

"You should be!" she said, crossing her arms over her chest. "And the point isn't whether you dented it or not, it's that you're a grown goddamn man, and you should have more self control than to wander around punching things." she said, shaking her head. "Jesus, what's the matter with you?" she asked, eyes on him. "Seriously, that's how you behave? You deem that acceptable behavior for not only an adult, but a cop?"

“At least I didn’t punch someone,” Danny grumbled darkly. It occurred him a little late that the small woman was actually chastising him and that set him reeling for a moment. Did he even have an excuse for his behavior, not just now but for the rest of the day? Not really no. He was in a foul mood and hitting something tended to help with his foul moods. “This case is the matter with me! It’s getting nowhere. It’s like one god damn disaster after another and we’ve got nothing.” His eyes were dark when he looked up again, but beneath the anger was pain. He’d almost lost his wife to the attack in the park and he hadn’t recovered from it even though she was fine. He hadn’t even dealt with it, he’d just gone back to work.

“That doesn’t give you the excuse to wander around losing your temper and hitting things. Jesus pull yourself together. People trust you to have your shit together, officer, you’d better live up to that, or you’re doing no one any good, and you’re only making the rep of the cops in this town all the worse. You sitting there just giving excuses sounds like you’re just another whining asshole with a sore ass that thinks he can do whatever he wants. Well you can’t. So suck it up. Have a little maturity, decorum and self respect. At least have respect for your badge. Behave.”

Danny scowled at being lectured, thinking once in one day was more than enough. “Behave? What good as behaving got me,” he grumbled, not quite looking at her. They were getting nowhere and he felt like it just kept getting worse. “How the hell am I supposed to keep my shit together when everything’s falling apart and we’re getting nowhere. I’ve got nothing, you’ve got nothing. Nothing and nowhere. And the fucker tried to kill my wife. These tried to kill party goers. Whole fucking place is going to hell in handbasket.” How was one person supposed to stand up to all of it?

"What good has wandering around like an asshole got you?" December countered. "Seriously, I want to know. What exactly do you get out of running around with a temper that you just apparently blow off whenever you feel like it, no matter who's around or what you happen to be punching. And guess what. A lot of people died. This isn't about you or your wife. It's about some psycho out there, who mass murdered people. Quit pretending this is all about you, or that it's only down to you. You aren't nearly that important. And you're definitely not important enough to be given free licence to be a dick. All you're doing right now is making the people around you wonder how much of a liability you are. I sure as hell am. I can't imagine the boys upstairs are feeling any better about you, if your behavior is any indication. And don't think that just because I work down here that I don't know your rep, either. I do. People talk. You're a drunk. And apparently you're also a drunk who wanders around letting his temper lead the way. You're not going to find shit being like this. Punching shit isn't going to give you answers. If you want to actually do something? Check yourself. And do it fucking fast. Possibly before I decide to report your ass for inappropriate behavior. And trust me, mr. punchypants, if I'm bitching about inappropriate shit? Then things are so far out of line it's unignorable."

And what good had being calm done for him? He wasn’t amused that she’d called him a drunk either. He was under control. He didn’t have a problem. “Alright fine. Maybe I’m not getting anywhere, and sure maybe they are likely to kick me off the force, seems to be the goal.” He was bitter and angry at the world, but he got up out of the chair, trying to focus on something. He walked past her, looking at the body again. Something, anything, just to get his head in gear and to make a break in the case. Some tiny little break.

"If you get your ass kicked off the force, it's going to be your own fault." December told him. "You might want to take something like responsibility though it appears to me that you really aren't capable of it. Get out of my morgue. There's nothing on that table that I haven't already told you. And if all you're going to do is sit around, get angry and or feel sorry for your punk ass, then I have autopseys to do." She didn't care if he was there to do something productive, but he wasn't. And he was being an ass, with no apparent ability to even listen to someone trying to get him back in gear or in line, or maybe both. She'd seen people like him everywhere she went when she was on the road, and there were a few in the show. And those guys all went the same way. They blamed everyone else for their own bullshit, never stopped to ponder that it might be them, and they self destructed, taking everyone around them with. The hardest part of watching it now was Danny was a cop. He was supposed to be better than this. The city needed him, and he was so short sighted he'd never even get it and when he got booted, he'd whine that it was someone else's fault.

Danny glared at her, but as likely as he might be to hit anything, he wasn’t going to hit her. Letting out a loud breath he shook his head. “Fine. I’ll get out of your way. Call me if you find something.” He gave the body one more look then stalked past her. He really wanted a drink, but wasn’t sure if he could waste the time on a bar. Unfortunate situation as that was.

"Don't let the door hit you on the ass on the way out." December said, watching him leave, just to be sure he was going. It just made her feel worse about the city, the investigation. With people like him on the case, they had even less of a chance to find whoever did it. Fuck.