𝟐𝟎𝟏𝟒 | 𝐋𝐎𝐍𝐃𝐎𝐍

sean stone had been at the missing persons bureau since 7am. while technically, his first shift doesn’t start until 10am, he finds it’s always better to be early, and make a good first impression.

10:05am is when you arrive. rushed, clumsy, and five minutes late. not an ideal first impression with your new working partner, but it’s not the worst way you’ve shown up to work before.

sean watches, eyes clinically following you as you speed through your office, removing your rain-dampened coat and hanging it on the coatrack by the door, throwing your bag on the nearest flat surface, all while attempting - in vain - to balance your tray of coffees in one hand.

he, on the other hand, has already ordered a current list of victims by risk - lowest to highest. the photos are pinned to your board, sean’s tiny handwriting scattered across. he stares at you from his spot bg the info was you make yourself at home in your office, and opens his mouth.

“do you have a husband?”