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SOMETIMES Edward felt like being friends with Hopper was like taking care of a girlfriend.
He leaned against the fridge, dragging the yellow phone cord around his head to press it into his ear, all the while Hopper droned on and on about last night. Sweat trickled down Edward's back, staining his light brown uniform, and Hopper didn't save a second to ask his deputy how he was doing. The rant seemed to go on forever, and the kitchen only got hotter. Apparently, Hopper had asked Joyce out on a date, except he said it wasn't really a date, but she still accepted. Until –
"And then, she just ... doesn't show up!" Hopper shouted. His voice sounded like static through the speaker, and Edward needed to hold it away from his ear for a moment. "I waited there for an hour, Moreda. A fucking hour! I looked like a total loser. Jesus Christ."
Edward furrowed his bushy eyebrows. "You finally left Enzo's two hours later?"
"Yeah," Hopper sighed, pausing to remember the rest of his night. Edward could practically see him smirking on the other end. "Then, I went home, poured myself a big shot of whiskey, and watched my shows. Perfect ending to a horrible night."
"Okay, okay, buddy. I get it." Edward held a hand out to stop his friend's words, even though he knew Hopper couldn't see him. The deputy rubbed at his temples. "Listen, I don't know why this couldn't have waited until we got to the station in an hour –"
Hopper scoffed, "I was upset–"
"But once I see you at work," Edward continued, "we can sit down and think of a way to get Joyce's attention again. I'm sure it shouldn't be that hard. She's into you ..." He paused. "Right?"
"I don't know!" The sheriff exclaimed, static running through the house phone. "Whatever. It doesn't even matter. I never asked her on an actual date, anyways."
Edward laughed, "Sure you didn't."
"Wipe that dumb smirk that's probably on your face, Moreda. I did not –"
"You did so, Hop."
"Shut up!" He hollered, causing Edward to snicker. "And I don't need your advice either. I can handle this all on my own."
Edward heard a pair of combat boots stalk down the hallway, and in came Veronica, dressed in her work attire and heading straight for their fridge. He quickly moved out of the way for his daughter, who pulled the milk carton out before downing it into her mouth. Edward's bottom lip curled back in revulsion, and he turned to the phone once again, "Hey, Hop, let's continue this argument at my office. Sound good?"
"What? Hey! I am not finished –"
He slammed the phone into the receiver on the kitchen wall, spinning on the heel of his loafer to face Veronica. She wiped excess milk onto her hand, eyes flickering to her dad before they eventually narrowed with suspicion. "What?"
