“And Ezekiel!” The man called once more, his smile shifting to a more annoyed and or cynical expression. “You’re late. Again!” He laughed, his hand moving outward in gesture, spilling a drop or two of his coffee on the black, paved ground.


    “Yeah… Good mornin’ to you too, sunshine.” Ezekiel murmured, the spark of his lighter could be heard in between his words. “Dastardly thing…” He mumbled to himself through his liquor stained teeth which were clamped shut on a slightly bent cigarette, one of two he had left; the lighter was emitting a strong scent of lighter fluid through the saturated cotton that sat within it.


    “Do you really need to kill your lungs on my time?” Arnez scoffed, tucking his notebook underneath his armpit and running his fingers down his nose bridge in annoyance. He placed his mug on the roof of Lucy’s truck for a moment to use his own lighter for Ezekiel’s noble cause, even if the noble cause leads to hospitalisation and black mould. “I hate the smell of that thing.” Arnez rolled his eyes with his statement, he specifically didn’t like the smell of the burning cotton wick and preferred a more up to date lighter.


    “I don’t like the smell of your bougie shampoo and yet you seem to use it a lot.” Ezekiel retorted, pushing Arnez away physically once he had lit the cigarette being grasped by Ezekiel’s anterior teeth; The dishevelled middle-aged detective tucked his lighter away, grinning for a moment before deciding to stretch, his left arm going over his head to grasp his right; each of his bones clicked in a different place before he ultimately pushed Arnez’s perfectly white, bleached mug off the dusty, mud covered rooftop. “Oh, yikes, what’ll that cost to replace, two-hundred? Four-hundred? I know you like shit expensive. Your sugar daddy buy that for you?” Ezekiel snickered.


    “A sugar daddy is better than no daddy now isn’t it, Ezekiel. Where’s yours?” Arnez smirked in return, his tone was snarky and heavily directed at Ezekiel’s soft spot; he knew exactly what he was doing.


    The air stood lifeless for a moment before Ezekiel scoffed; his spindly middle and index finger raising to his mouth revealing his two singular painted nails, one being his pinky and the other being his index, one was blue and the other black. His fingers pinched closed on the tobacco filled paper roll he had pressed to his lower lip. “You got me this time.” He exhaled, blowing smoke directly into Arnez’s face before leaving to enter the station.


    Ezekiel’s boots stomped against the concrete, they were falling apart and he had to seal them with bathroom tile calk a couple times too many, but they were reliable and he refused to dispose of them.


    This tale has been unlawfully obtained from Royal Road. If you discover it on Amazon, kindly report it.


    “Lucy, are there any of those … the birthday cake ones…” Ezekiel spoke indistinctly, Lucy would obviously know what he had been thinking of, but to His surprise he was not met by Lucy in the break room; instead he was met by a younger detective who had been working at the station on a specific case for about a week now.


    “You’re really still here.” Ezekiel coughed, running his hand down his face, his nails catching on his eyebrow for a moment before forming a fist with his hand and using it to rub the sleep out of his eyes. “Carlo, right…?” Ezekiel questioned, checking the palm of his hand to see if his mascara had smeared; entirely forgetting he wasn’t even wearing mascara.


    “Yes, but not exactly-. it''s Corlo.” The much younger detective adjusted his glasses for a moment, then reached his hand out supposedly for a handshake. “And you must be Ezekiel! I''m gonna be completely honest, they just told me you’d appear the classic depiction of a sad, middle aged man.”


    Ezekiel merely stared at him for a moment, running his fingers through the ends of his hair before commenting on the man’s strange hand posture. “Y’know it''s oddly normalised to use your right hand for a hand shake, to the point even if you were just using your left hand to manoeuvre the coffee pot you’d resort to it. who says you can''t wield arms with your left hand anyway.” Ezekiel grinned, his head facing the ground but his eyes looking upward toward Corlo, holding out his left hand just to mess with him, the entire bit was just to make him uncomfortable or off put.


    Just before their hands could collide Ezekiel tapped out, Holding his hand behind his neck with a crack and turning back to the counter, placing his arms down to get a closer look at the box he’d earlier been dissecting, trying his absolute best to find anything actually flavourful within it.


    Corlo’s gaze twisted while he stared blankly at Ezekiel, who stood hunched over the counter, his elbows digging into the linoleum while he picked at the box of small spherical donuts. “Only three are you joking… Who in their right mind order’s plain anyway?” Ezekiel Yelled, demanding answers on what idiot was put in charge of the coffee order for today, and obviously, as always; Arnez pushed his way through the doorway, ever so politely excusing himself from being in Corlo’s way and making his way to the box.


    “Don’t you love plain donuts?” Arnez smiled, taking around two or three for himself and leaning backward against the counter, making near direct eye contact with Ezekiel so he knew this was all just to spite him.