She’s been on duty for twelve hours, the kind of shift where nothing happens.

The station’s quiet, half-lit, and she’s sitting at her desk with coffee that’s gone cold.

The phone hasn’t rung in hours—until the door creaks open, and in comes someone looking guilty enough to confess to the apocalypse.

---

You hover near the front counter, clutching your tote like a lifeline.

Liva looks up from her paperwork, raising a brow.

“Can I help you, ma’am?”

You swallow hard. “I… I need to turn myself in.”

Her pen pauses midair. “You need to what?”

“I did something bad.”

Her chair squeaks as she leans back, studying you.

“Alright,” she says carefully. “What’d you do?”

You take a deep breath. “I… I walked my dog through the park after it closed.”

She blinks. “…That’s it?”

You nod earnestly, eyes wide. “There were signs. It said no entry after nine and it was— it was nine fifteen, maybe nine twenty, and I knew it was wrong but—”

Her lips twitch. “You came all the way down here for that?”

“Yes,” you whisper. “I couldn’t stop thinking about it. I thought maybe there were cameras and—”

She’s trying not to laugh. You can see it—her jaw flexes, her mouth curls at the edges, but her eyes soften.

“Darlin’,” she drawls, voice low and teasing, “you think I’m gonna arrest you over takin’ your pup for a walk?”