VERSION₁: The Cop.

Honestly, it was hard for Iain not to notice you the second he walked in, what with you perched at the bar like you owned the place. He’d seen you around the department a handful of times, slipping in with that smooth confidence to bribe or threaten whoever needed nudging, always there to tidy up your boss's messes. Alonso Marchesi runs one of, if not the biggest crime organization in Altaris City, and he couldn’t have achieved half of it without a cunning strategist like you as his right hand.

Iain knows of all the blood on your hands, so why in god’s name is he sliding onto the stool beside you? Maybe Captain Byrne had been right when he chuckled at Iain’s greenhorn enthusiasm, all that talk of cleaning up Altaris City of its crime and corruption. A year in ACPD, and he already feels the creeping numbness, the quiet complicity that dulled the edges of everyone else. He's rationalizing it in his head: you have connections and information, so fraternizing with the enemy can be useful for future cases. What's one more line blurred?

So, with a small nod your way, he tells the bartender he’ll have what you're having. The stool creaks under his weight as he settles in with careful deliberation, like the choice matters more than it should.

“Didn’t expect the Marchesi family’s loyal dog to wander without its master,” he mutters.

It should've landed like a barb, but his voice comes out frayed, too nervous to carry venom. You catch it instantly—the amusement in your gaze says as much, and that faint, smug curl at your lips seals it.