05-20-2014, 04:20 PM
Chief Inspector Drayson McCullough rarely took anything that could be considered time off. Even when away from work, even on his off hours, his actions or thoughts were usually connected to his work in some way. So his presence at a pet store, of all things, would likely have come as a bit of a surprise to the few people that knew him. His commitment to his job did not leave him with any time to spare caring for an animal.
He wore a thick brown wool paletot style over-coat, to ward off the chill air of December in Moscow, and a simple dark plaid scarf hung off his shoulders. A pair of leather gloves, chosen for function and appearance, not simple appearance alone, were tucked into one pocket, and he stood watching a pair of basset hound pups playing in a display case, towering over a young boy and girl who were pressed against the glass and giggling happily.
He did not know the children, and was not present on their behalf, but he hadn't been able to pass up a moment to watch their childish enthusiasm. He'd overheard their parents speaking to one of the store's staff, and the father would be returning on the morrow to take the pups home to the unsuspecting children.
The parents came and ushered the children away to continue browsing the stores along the street, playing up that they had only come inside to entertain their children's curiosity and nothing more, and Drayson shared a ghost of a smile with the father as they departed.
Then it was back to the task at hand, as Drayson turned away from the two pups, watching with whimpers and scrabbling paws as the two children departed, pleading their parents to buy the dogs.
Each stride rang out a solid chop as his heel then ball of foot met floor. It was a calm, confident, stride, and he easily met the gaze of those around him offering passing pleasantries and polite nods. At first glance, he was a polite, happy and easy going man.
And behind that mask, there were few emotions to be seen. He was a tired man; left threadbare yet somehow still standing. He had bore witness to terrible things, seen the most base and sadistic sides of human nature without flinching, bottling it away deep inside where it would bother no one. But despite that, he felt...content. His was a task few could do, a responsibility few could carry, a weight he bore with pride.
His stride brought him to the part of the store dedicated to the smaller, exotic pets, and he strolled the length of cages and aquariums before stopping before one that housed a pair of hedgehogs. The two curious little creatures spared him a moment's interest, pointed little noses sniffing at the air, but they could sense nothing from within their confined little world, and soon returned to rooting about in the thick carpet of wood chips where they found bits of dried fruit, sprinkled in by one of the store's staff.
He'd been given an unusual task, a favour asked of one of the elderly couples living in the same building as he. Their granddaughter was visiting, a girl no more then 10 years old, and she had been speaking non-stop about hedgehogs. And so there he stood, watching the strange little animals with the intent of buying one for a neighbor's granddaughter.
He wore a thick brown wool paletot style over-coat, to ward off the chill air of December in Moscow, and a simple dark plaid scarf hung off his shoulders. A pair of leather gloves, chosen for function and appearance, not simple appearance alone, were tucked into one pocket, and he stood watching a pair of basset hound pups playing in a display case, towering over a young boy and girl who were pressed against the glass and giggling happily.
He did not know the children, and was not present on their behalf, but he hadn't been able to pass up a moment to watch their childish enthusiasm. He'd overheard their parents speaking to one of the store's staff, and the father would be returning on the morrow to take the pups home to the unsuspecting children.
The parents came and ushered the children away to continue browsing the stores along the street, playing up that they had only come inside to entertain their children's curiosity and nothing more, and Drayson shared a ghost of a smile with the father as they departed.
Then it was back to the task at hand, as Drayson turned away from the two pups, watching with whimpers and scrabbling paws as the two children departed, pleading their parents to buy the dogs.
Each stride rang out a solid chop as his heel then ball of foot met floor. It was a calm, confident, stride, and he easily met the gaze of those around him offering passing pleasantries and polite nods. At first glance, he was a polite, happy and easy going man.
And behind that mask, there were few emotions to be seen. He was a tired man; left threadbare yet somehow still standing. He had bore witness to terrible things, seen the most base and sadistic sides of human nature without flinching, bottling it away deep inside where it would bother no one. But despite that, he felt...content. His was a task few could do, a responsibility few could carry, a weight he bore with pride.
His stride brought him to the part of the store dedicated to the smaller, exotic pets, and he strolled the length of cages and aquariums before stopping before one that housed a pair of hedgehogs. The two curious little creatures spared him a moment's interest, pointed little noses sniffing at the air, but they could sense nothing from within their confined little world, and soon returned to rooting about in the thick carpet of wood chips where they found bits of dried fruit, sprinkled in by one of the store's staff.
He'd been given an unusual task, a favour asked of one of the elderly couples living in the same building as he. Their granddaughter was visiting, a girl no more then 10 years old, and she had been speaking non-stop about hedgehogs. And so there he stood, watching the strange little animals with the intent of buying one for a neighbor's granddaughter.