Being a cop in the United States is no easy task. It's a high-risk job; you might be questioning someone by the roadside only to be met with a hail of bullets. Consequently, many police officers experience significant mental stress, which often manifests as irritability.
Lawrence was especially irritable.
The Sam's Club parking garage they were in was underground, with an elevator that went straight up to the store above. When the two of them arrived at the elevator, its doors were slowly closing.
"Wait!"
Lawrence hurried towards the elevator, shouting for the person inside to hold it. He really didn't want to wait for the next one.
Instead of pressing the door-open button, the person inside whistled at the approaching Lawrence and taunted, "Buddy, you're as slow as an old man."
But he had clearly underestimated Lawrence's speed.
"FUCK."
A muscle in Lawrence's cheek twitched. His speed surged, and just as the elevator doors were about to close, he thrust his hand between them.
The elevator doors, sensing an obstacle, automatically reopened.
By the time Dean walked in, Lawrence already had the smart-aleck kid cornered, pressing him against the elevator wall until he resembled an ostrich trying to hide its head. "Wow, buddy. Now you're shaking in your boots because of a little old man."
The young man looked at the burly, fierce-faced Lawrence. He crossed his scrawny arms over his chest, his voice trembling. "I was just joking, no harm meant. And there's a surveillance camera in here, calm down."
"Surveillance?"
Lawrence grinned, his features contorting like a butcher about to make the first cut. "I'm not aware of any Los Angeles law that makes crowding someone illegal."
Dean still hadn't realized the seriousness of the situation. He leaned against the elevator wall, watching with a smirk as the street-smart thug bullied the kid. Essentially, he was cut from the same unpleasant cloth as Lawrence.
"I'm sorry, man! My behavior was out of line. Please forgive me!" the young man apologized, his voice trembling. His eyes darted anxiously to the floor indicator, the elevator ride feeling exceptionally slow.
Dean glanced at the floor indicator. Noticing they were about to reach the Sam's Club level, he hastily nudged Lawrence. "Alright, I think this kid has learned his lesson about respect."
Large retail stores like this usually had security guards patrolling; it wouldn't look good to be seen. They couldn't afford to blow their cover now.
"Fine. Consider yourself lucky today."
Lawrence turned away, still somewhat unsatisfied.
The elevator doors opened.
The young man practically bolted from the elevator, as if a ravenous beast were at his heels.
Dean and Lawrence exchanged a look and burst into laughter.
But they hadn't gotten out more than a couple of laughs when they saw the young man run to a security guard at the store entrance, pointing at them and speaking animatedly.
The next moment, Dean saw the two guards stationed at the entrance draw their guns, their expressions grim, and charge towards them...
"Hands up!"
"Face the wall! Hands away from your waists!"
...
Some large retail stores in the United States employ armed security guards.
But Dean had never imagined that on his very first day as a detective, having just gained the legal authority to enforce the law, he'd be disarmed by a security guard...
Lawrence had certainly taught him a lesson.
「Police Station.」
Amidst the teasing smirks of their colleagues at the station, Dean and Lawrence awkwardly retrieved their IDs and service weapons, then exited the building. No sooner had they stepped out than uncontrollable laughter erupted from inside.
It must have been tough for them to hold it in that long.
SHIT!
...
It wouldn't take long, Dean mused, before he and Lawrence became the butt of everyone's jokes.
Outside the station, Old Hunter leaned against the wall, smoking a cigarette with a melancholic expression. Hearing the commotion, he turned and his gaze fell upon Lawrence's extremely chagrined face.
Old Hunter's expression grew even more somber.
Lawrence hadn't expected Old Hunter to be waiting for them. He stepped forward awkwardly. "Deputy Captain, I didn't realize that kid saw the gun on my hip... We couldn't very well blow our cover..."
"Enough..." Old Hunter sighed. "Lawrence, Dean, you two can't show your faces at Sam's Club anymore. I've already sent Robert and the others to protect Daisy. As for you two... if you've got nothing better to do, go sort through the clues for the two rape-murder cases. Or revisit the crime scenes, see if anything was missed. In any case... just don't stir up any more trouble!"
With that, Old Hunter walked over to Dean, patted his shoulder sympathetically, and left.
The gesture said it all.
Stuck with Lawrence, huh? Sorry, rookie.
Witnessing this, Lawrence's face turned a furious, liverish purple. He'd just been boasting about teaching Dean criminal profiling, and now, Dean was a laughingstock thanks to his 'mentorship'.
So much for 'expert guidance'!
Lawrence felt he'd lost all credibility with Dean.
"Haha, your expression is priceless," Dean laughed heartily. "That won't do, Lawrence. Toughen up. I'll definitely give a thin-skinned scoundrel like you a hard time."
Lawrence, detecting no actual blame in Dean's voice, said, somewhat sheepishly, "Dean, I'm really sorry for dragging you into this mess."
"No, no, no." Dean waved his hand. "Lawrence, you've got it all wrong. We only endured this humiliation because we didn't want to alert the culprit. That makes us selfless heroes, suffering indignity to crack the case! The ones who mock us should be ashamed."
"Huh?"
Lawrence was momentarily stunned by Dean's rationalization.
Actually... if you ignored the fact that he started it, Dean's logic was flawless.
Thinking this way, Lawrence felt much better. "You're right. But since I screwed up, I'm buying you a drink."
"Lead the way. I won't stand on ceremony."
The two linked arms like old buddies and headed off to find a cab to a bar. The car in the parking garage would have to wait a couple of days.
「The Bar.」
After a few drinks, Lawrence found himself liking Dean more and more. If this were a video game, it would be like: Affection +1! Affection +1! Affection +1!—the kind that floods the screen.
Dean had completely won him over. In his heart, Lawrence's perception of Dean, whom he'd only recently met, shifted from mere colleague to genuine friend—the kind he actually enjoyed being around.
It wasn't the alcohol making them drunk; it was the camaraderie, the shared experience.
Lawrence, his frustrations amplified by the alcohol, leaned towards Dean, somewhat tipsy. "Y'know, I'm actually pretty damn good. Back in the First Squad, I cracked a lot of cases. If it wasn't for... that incident... I might've been Deputy Captain of the First Squad by now."
Dean's face was flushed, but his eyes remained remarkably clear.
So Lawrence had a story, too. He had no intention of prying, though. Their relationship hadn't reached that stage.
Dean clinked his glass against Lawrence's, smoothly changing the subject. "Lawrence, earlier you mentioned criminal profiling. Got any theories on those home-invasion rape-murders?"
Lawrence downed his drink in one gulp. "Damn right," he said confidently. "Based on the clues so far, I've already zeroed in on a likely group of suspects!"