It was way, way too damn early in the morning for any of this. Jean lightly chewed on the butt of his cigarette that rested loosely on his lips, smoke curling in the sunshine that drifted through the open window. He idly picked at the scruffy black hair on his jaw, the corner of his mouth minutely twitching at the twinge of pain that would spark, just to go back to it again.

All the while, he twirled his pen between his fingers as he pored over the mountain of documents laid on his desk, grey, almost silvery eyes flicking back and forth along the pages.

Outside, the precinct was buzzing—it usually was. Other officers were showing up for the morning, clocking in and getting ready to run about Jamrock's streets, half-assing the job, as Jean always believed. Even from the comfort of his own small, somewhat stuffy office at the end of the hall, he could still hear Harry's incessant yammering.

Even after Kim transferred from the 57th to keep him in check, some things never changed.

"What the fuck do you want," Jean hissed suddenly, not looking up from the paperwork. He didn't even need to see, let alone hear that the door was opened to know someone was intruding into his space. "If it's not important, leave. It's too early for childish bullshit."