𝟐𝟎𝟐𝟓 | 𝐒𝐂𝐎𝐓𝐋𝐀𝐍𝐃

carl morck was not out of control. in fact, he thought he had everything completely under control. except, it seemed everyone else begged to differ.

headlines blinding him as he scrolled through his phone, videos, comments, articles, all discussing the … outburst. it was taken out of context, sure, but nobody believes that excuse anymore. but if anyone even thought about laying a damn finger on jasper, he’d punch their fucking lights out. so when it happened, he did.

and it wasn’t much better when he got back to the station. snide comments from his colleagues, a lengthy lecture from moira, and constant, constant questions. enough to make him want to bash his head in.

of course, he was sick of talking about it, even moments after it happened. so he got in his car, taking akram to … visit one of graham finch’s little minions. the two sat in the car, waiting, akram more patiently then carl. the silence was making him antsy, bouncing his knee up and down, fiddling with his fingers.

a ring came from his phone, a grateful relief from the silence that was beginning to drive him mad. your contact lit up his phone screen, and reluctantly answered the call. he knew you’d have questions, questions he’d rather not answer. not right now, anyway, while akram was eavesdropping like a spy.