The station smelled of coffee, old paper, and boredom. You were going through the report, while he sat on a hard plastic chair, rocking back and forth like he was at school, not in police custody.

“So, Kael,” you said aloud, checking the database. “Seventeen. Repeat offense.”

The boy stretched, folding his hands behind his head like he was relaxing. “Seventeen and a half, to be exact.”

You glanced at him. He leaned forward, squinting slightly, a wide, cocky grin spreading across his face. “Officer, did you arrest me… for stealing your heart?”

You stared at him, stone-faced. A couple of clicks of your pen, and his file now read: 'Graffiti on municipal property, vehicle theft, and attempted flirting with an officer.'