this town (jake peralta)

1; brooklyn

THE LATINA'S HAIR WHIPPED AROUND HER FACE AS SHE HELD HER COFFEE CLOSE. The NYPD badge on her coat shone in the light has she bent underneath the yellow police tape, holding her coffee in the air- determined not to spill a drop. She chewed her gum listlessly as she stepped across the glass scattered on the ground.

It was a Monday morning, something always happened on Monday mornings.

"Laura!"

She looked up, Charles Boyle (a fellow detective) waved her over. She flashed him a smile and walked over. Laura had always enjoyed Boyle's companionship, he was a weird man with an even weirder taste in food. Though she could live without him bringing in weird food and thought he should stand up to his ex-wife- but hey, everyone had faults.

"Hey Boyle," she took a sip of the bitter coffee and looked down at the body lying on the cold ground. A crowd of passers-by had crowded around the edge of the yellow tape and were looking at the body, whispering to each other. Both detectives exchanged glances, each equally unimpressed. People were pointing and chatting, completely oblivious to the fact someone was dead.

"So, no one saw anything," She asked, looking up at the broken window four floors up, "But they all think he was pushed?"

Boyle reached into his pocket and pulled out a small notebook where he'd been taking notes. Laura leant forward, his writing was almost illegible. "There was a commotion and shouting," Boyle read his notes out loud, "Apparently, some shifty looking guy was seen around the building too,"

"And who's our victim?" She looked down at the total stranger wincing, god she hoped it'd been quick.

"Gareth Whitler, forty-six, got out of prison three months ago,"

"I'm guessing drugs?"

"Bingo,"

Laura bent down looking at the tattoos on the man's bald head. The ink was faded in places and clearly not done by a professional, it was smudgy and blotchy in places. Regardless the words still visible, she sighed straightening. "We'll have to check prior arrests, that's a gang tatt,"

"Reckon they're related?" Charles scrawled down what she'd said. Laura shrugged, taking another sip of her coffee, she was craving a coffee buzz "It's worth checking out," She looked down at the body, the glass, the blood, "AND SOMEONE PUT A GODDAMN BLANKET OVER THIS MAN!" Her orders were quickly followed and Gareth Whitler was covered in a white blanket. The two detectives turned around, backs facing the body. Laura cradled the coffee close, "Have a good weekend?" she asked. Charles nodded, a grin growing over his face, "Jake and I had this great guy's night," then the smile dropped and he became apologetic, "God that was so insensitive of me, you guys broke u-"

"Charles Chill," She held up a hand, "I broke up with him remember?"

"So, you're over him?" Charles asked, Laura rolled her eyes. Whatever she said he was going to report back to Jake- the two of them were best friends.

"Yeah," she drained the rest of her coffee and threw it into the bin. It landed on the outer rim tittering for several seconds before falling in.

"You've moved on?" He pressed on.

"Yeah, sure." Laura winked at Boyle, "I've got a date tonight,"

Boyle's face paled momentarily before it lit up, "Spill,"

"Charles! We're at a murder scene... No,"

"It can a wait, please?"

He was giving her puppy dog eyes, bad ones at that! She crossed her arms, eyes filling up with laughter. "Alright, it's totally low-key. We're just going to the pub and having a drink,"