12-15-2014, 07:54 PM
Konstantinov and Sokolov both chuckled at the comment, then Sokolov bowed out of the conversation, off to round up a cup of left-over tar (coffee) from the little break room, leaving Konstantinov to help her finish settling in. "Not really, no. Chief Inspector Drayson does hold an office here, but it isn't one he's likely to occupy often. Otherwise, Mr Sarkozy may be in at some point. His official transfer to the unit should be going through today."
Konstantinov shrugged slightly; he and Sokolov, and a few of the others, didn't really know what to make of Ivan Sarkozy. The man was a new face, and seemed to have a direct link to the Chief Inspector, whom had referred to the young police officer as being something important to the task force's future. None were yet privy to what exactly that meant, but that would change quickly once the task force was fully assembled and put to its task.
They were joined then by a plain featured woman in her early thirties, another one-time street cop like Konstantinov and Sokolov. The ones who had encountered things that had led to their careers coming to a jarring halt. Officer Kira Zinoviya gave Konstantinov a rather audible punch to the arm which caused the taller man to blanch and grimace, but he managed to bite his tongue and keep quiet.
After punching the other officer, she pushed him out of the way and offered to shake Alex's hand, "Kira. Konstantinov is right, unfortunately. Not many of us are here yet."
There were a few other people already present, but most of the staff just hadn't finished their transfers yet.
"You are the psychological profiler, right?"
What Kira might have lacked for striking looks she made up for with an almost musical and childish voice; a continual source of irritation for a woman in a traditionally male-dominated work environment. The fact that she was no stranger to the gym probably helped keep most trouble-makers from causing her any problems though.
The way she walked was a little off; favouring her left leg, although the limb seemed to move naturally enough. The leg was a high quality prosthetic from mid-thigh down, and the limp was mostly habit left over from a few years on a cruder model. "I run the armoury. What's your opinion on all of this? Hunting the monsters and witches?"
She had a thick binder tucked under one arm, which contained maintenance and operations manuals on the myriad of unusual non-lethal weapons that were, or would soon be, at the unit's disposal.
Edited by Drayson, Dec 17 2014, 09:28 PM.
Konstantinov shrugged slightly; he and Sokolov, and a few of the others, didn't really know what to make of Ivan Sarkozy. The man was a new face, and seemed to have a direct link to the Chief Inspector, whom had referred to the young police officer as being something important to the task force's future. None were yet privy to what exactly that meant, but that would change quickly once the task force was fully assembled and put to its task.
They were joined then by a plain featured woman in her early thirties, another one-time street cop like Konstantinov and Sokolov. The ones who had encountered things that had led to their careers coming to a jarring halt. Officer Kira Zinoviya gave Konstantinov a rather audible punch to the arm which caused the taller man to blanch and grimace, but he managed to bite his tongue and keep quiet.
After punching the other officer, she pushed him out of the way and offered to shake Alex's hand, "Kira. Konstantinov is right, unfortunately. Not many of us are here yet."
There were a few other people already present, but most of the staff just hadn't finished their transfers yet.
"You are the psychological profiler, right?"
What Kira might have lacked for striking looks she made up for with an almost musical and childish voice; a continual source of irritation for a woman in a traditionally male-dominated work environment. The fact that she was no stranger to the gym probably helped keep most trouble-makers from causing her any problems though.
The way she walked was a little off; favouring her left leg, although the limb seemed to move naturally enough. The leg was a high quality prosthetic from mid-thigh down, and the limp was mostly habit left over from a few years on a cruder model. "I run the armoury. What's your opinion on all of this? Hunting the monsters and witches?"
She had a thick binder tucked under one arm, which contained maintenance and operations manuals on the myriad of unusual non-lethal weapons that were, or would soon be, at the unit's disposal.
Edited by Drayson, Dec 17 2014, 09:28 PM.