Dallas Police Department
The lobby of the Dallas Police Department is primarily made up of white-washed brick and old, battered hardwood. Double glass doors lead into the building, a dark blue carpet spanning the length of the room to the Duty Desk. Painted on the wall behind the desk is the silver and blue seal of the department. Off to the left of the lobby is a roped off section where people can stand in line to make requests or file minor statements and complaints. To the right is a low wall that blocks most of the offices and cubicles from public view, but still shows a certain amount of accessibility. Down that same hall are the holding cells and interrogation rooms, with the actual jail in the rooms below the building.
When it comes right down to it, Carter looks like a kid waiting for the principle rather than a businessman waiting for a police officer to get to his claim. The blonde man sits in a chair near the cubicles, a bead of sweat trickling down his brow. From the pocket of his suit he withdraws a handkerchief and wipes at his face, clearing his throat. The young man has been here a little over an hour, having been promised that an officer would be with him shortly some time ago. In the mean time, the genius has decided to have a nice, relaxing cup of coffee. Which has for some mysterious reason, worsened his case of the jitters. The baby faced man surveys the area as he takes another drink of the sludge-like precinct coffee. He bides his time and waits, looking towards one of the more gruff officers for a long moment. When the officer catches him, it causes Carter to look back down at his coffee.
"What is it now, Peterson?"
Officer Young's question is directed at the officer that has just looked away from Carter, with Young folding his arms over his chest and looking on questioningly. There's a few words shared between the two but soon enough the black man's directing his attention towards Carter as well and then beginning to move toward 'baby face' Carter. Along the way, the uniformed man picks up a manila folder and glances briefly into its contents. He gives a small gesture for the other man to stand up and then speaks up warmly enough - he even smiles a bit at it - "How're you doing, Mister — Moore?"
If nothing else, Carter is great at taking orders. He stands up and offers a hand to Young. "Well, I've been better, frankly. But I guess that's to be expected after you've had your car stolen." It's said good-naturedly enough, though the kid is obviously a tad pissed about the fact that his ride got stolen. "I think I've filled everything out that needs to be filled out — they just said I needed to wait to talk to an officer." There's a glimmer of hope on Carter's face that Young is finally that officer. With his other hand, he finishes off of the bitter, strong coffee and tosses the cup into a waste basket. Or near it. He has to trundle away for a moment to put it in the waste basket.
James chuckles at the response and he takes the offered hand with one of his own in order to offer a firm handshake. "Doubt much has happened to it. These things happen all the - no, wait, that would mean we're not doing our job, heh," he releases the hand in order to nod to the words and stand there, patiently listening. He waits for Carter to return before leading him to a desk and two chairs in order to sit, with Young placing himself behind the desk and setting the folder down to the side but in plain view. There's nothing much. There's a portrait of his adoptive family to the side. He has some other knickknacks like a model of a fighter jet. A football is in the corner, aimlessly. Otherwise, it's immaculately kept. "So, stolen car," he starts.
Poor Carter isn't much for the small details. And he's not in the mood for small talk right now. Young's sparse cubicle decoration isn't really noted or commented on. Carter instead sits down and grips the arms of his chair, looking like he might do the proverbial white knuckling as though he were at a dentist's office rather than a police station. "Right. I had just got off work and gone to the mall for a few new things, finally putting that Christmas bonus I got to good use. I came back out to the parking lot about an hour later and pushed the 'unlock' button on the little keychain remote, but I didn't hear the beeping noise it usually makes." There's a pause as Carter considers the events, taking in a breath to pace himself. "I went over to where I parked — I'm sure of it — and the car wasn't there. Just a bunch of broken glass." Naturally he doesn't seem thrilled that some little punk took his car while he went on a minor shopping spree.
"What was it?" Young pauses in order to open the folder again and check the front set of paperwork within before slipping it fully out and laying it on top. "Ford Taurus, '94, good condition… red. We've got the report out, nothing to worry about there." The man reaches up and absentmindedly rubs at the right side of his face, just beneath the scar there but he smiles a bit and shifts his weight back. The smile naturally fades and he briefly looks elsewhere as an officer casually walks by. "Someone should be by with the results of the security footage - looking forward to catching this theft. There's been a small spree of them. Is there anything else you can think of, Mister Moore?"
"Please, just call me Carter if you can. Being called Mister Moore makes me feel like I'm at a meeting." The kid grins a little bit at that, before he shakes his head. "No, I'm sorry. I can't think of anything else. At least I don't suspect that anyone I know personally would want to steal my car." He seems rather contented with Young's answers about the footage, although he's not truly hopeful he's going to get his car back. Carter shakes his head a little bit. "I've heard that there's been an increase in gang activity lately. I work for the mayor, maybe I should bring the issue to his attention. It would help you all out here, right? Putting out some sort of campaign to stop the gang violence. And thefts."
"Of course, then it's just James for me, Carter." James listens to the incoming words and he nods at them, pressing his lips together thoughtfully and taking the moment to cast his dark gaze downwards in order to spy upon the paperwork. He sniffs faintly, uncharacteristically so. Leafing through the bottom sets of paper, he nods once more before slipping them back in. "It's an ongoing issue, but I've heard you can't have good without some evil around. We try, but maybe that'd help. I know it wouldn't hurt. And thefts, yeah."
Carter grins a little bit at Young. He doesn't seem to notice the sniffing, though with Young's senses, he'd probably pick up on the man's Calvin Klein cologne, Irish Spring soap, and of course the smell of the bitter coffee that fills the precinct. He reaches into his pocket and withdraws a business card, leaving it on the detective's desk. "Just in case you need to get a hold of me, if you find any leads. Are we done here, James?" Carter asks, not in an unkind tone. Mostly just antsy to leave the 'comfort' of the police station.
Young's hand rises up again, this time it's to rub at his forehead at the thought of so much work to do, at least that's what he would hope it appears to be. There's a moment of being overwhelmed by everything but he reigns in his senses long enough to smile appreciatively at the business card and hold it up. "Usually, I'm the one to do this, but that'll work," though it probably does help that he looks as if detective material, despite just a regular ol' police officer. He smiles more warmly now and begins to stand, holding out a hand; his accent picks back up as he speaks up, "We'll contact you as soon as we find something, Carter. You've my word."
The kid nods his head and gives a faint shrug of the shoulders. He shakes Young's hand firmly and starts off quickly afterward. "No problem, James. It was nice to meet you, even if I was under questionable conditions." With that, Carter is up, up, and away. The police station coffee has done little to relax him, instead sending him on a jittery path towards the bus stop.
