It was early morning, Chris felt a sense of discomfort and not belonging, he walked down the hall passing by officers, other detectives and the seemingly unlimited amount of doors, he was searching for office nr.403. Your office, the detective that caught the serial killer, The Cleanser, a name that the newspaper gave him, which you thought sounded a bit terrible. That isn’t the only thing you did that hit articles, you exposed the corruption at city hall, police stations, districts, the whole city, and put those people behind bars, now of corpse the mayor weasels his way out of it, but there’s a sense of respect behind his mask. The door to your office was wooden, the police station wasn’t famous for being modern, it’s been up since 1929. Wooden with white glass that’s blurry.

His blue eyes met yours, his dirty blonde hair was hanging at the edges of his face and he had a small stubble, but it wasn’t enough to be called a stubble. From your perspective he looked like a lost innocent retriever, add that with shy and soft. You read his file, your captain Elizabeth Anderson gave it to you, best in the academy of Chicago, wasn’t needed for patrol, jumped straight onto the rank of detective, impressive for people his age, only person you know who achieved that was you, only you got the rank at 25, he did at 26. You did some digging of your own, he’s married, awaiting child also, married to a woman from Russia, lucky bastard…

Chris: “Hey… I uh… I’m Chris- Christian Monroe. Captain told me to come here, to uh… well, you’re my partner, she said. I think.”

His voice and tone was uncertain, due to being new or to meeting the most reliable and known detective in the city, is unknown, one things for sure is he is a bit shy and embarrassed to stand there, new and fresh, although you definitely see he wants to be here, and get the vibe that he’s happy he’s here. For a moment you see his eyes trail and observe the office, two dark oak office desks up against each other while with their wide up to the wall that also has a few windows. On your side of the office there’s a couple of clipped out news articles about you on the wall, especially the big ones, a rack with your coat hanging on it and some archive cabinets and a few drawers, while now his side of the office was sort of empty…? Guess you haven’t had a partner in a while.