Drunk and Disorderly {FINISHED}

[Trisha Morello]

It may have taken a while, but she got there. Despite being in the city for less than a month, Trisha quickly established where the liquor stores and bars didn't bother carding people. She'd been kicked out of countless places because she had no ID to show and then there were other places, the ones barely skirting by on rent, who took her money gladly. And she had become an expert on what types of liquor to buy at the store. Bars were too expensive and she rarely had a chance to go to them since she was so poor. But liquor stores were relatively manageable. She could get a whole container of alcohol for less than $10. That was a bargain. And she always made sure to get the cheapest there was - despite how awful it tasted. But Trisha wasn't doing it for the taste or the sport of it. She was doing it to get drunk, and drunk she was.

Trisha was drunk off her ass.

She didn't know how she made it to the high end apartments, but she was there, stumbling about on the streets. It was late at night, but in this city, no one slept. So people were wide awake and able to hear her shouting incoherent sentences. She kicked at a garbage can and the metal clang echoed loudly. She still had a bottle of the cheapest vodka she could find glued to her hand. It was still half full, but there were a handful of empty ones littered in the city, a trail to her journey. She was able to ditch the large paper bag that held them all since she just had the one left.

Someone approached her cautiously to see if she was okay and needed help hailing a cab. "Do I look like I don't know how to get a fucking cab?!" she shouted at the top of her lungs, looking dangerously at the man who flinched at her words. He narrowed his eyes at her and told her he was just trying to help. "Well, I don't need your fucking help!" She shoved at him harshly and he fell back, shocked at how strong the small drunken woman was. He scrambled to his feet and walked away quickly. "Yeah! That's right! Run home to your pretty prostitute wife or whatever the fuck it is you bang at night!" She seemed to find her own words hilarious and she broke out into a loud laughter. Some people started shouting at her from windows.

"Hey! Fuck you, you rich fucks!" She gave the sky the finger, directed at no one in particular - just the wealthy people who resided in these apartments. Randomly, Trisha saw a large metal scrap. She picked it up and stumbled her way toward the brick walls. She started to clang on the walls with the metal, moving her way along and toward an alleyway. There was a dumpster there and she started beating on that, too, the noise loud and obnoxious.

"And then I stuck him in the heart! Ha! That fuck! He deserved to die!" Her words made no sense and they had no context. But her mind was in a jumble and somehow they had profound meaning to her.

[Justin Taylor]

It was almost midnight, the sky was completely absorbed by darkness, only a few stray stars dared to breach the black cloak. It had been a long day and he was planning on calling it soon, he had been chasing up leads that ultimately came to nothing. He was heading home, there was no need for him to stave off sleep any longer. It was almost amusing how the streets were still teeming with life in the dead of night, people going about their business, most of it shady. None of that concerned him for the moment he had just pulled a 15 hour shift and was looking forward to resting well tonight. Then his radio began to bleep off, usually he would have ignored the screeched out calls and left it to whatever poor soul was on patrol tonight but the address caught his attention. It was near enough that he could deal with it then head back to the station, drunk and disorderly, how surprising it was to get one of those calls on a night like this. He was in two minds, unable to decide whether it was worth his time or not. The silence was deafening, no1 had responded to the call and then he heard it for the second time so he picked up the radio off his dashboard and responded.

Once he had accepted the call he checked the road, it was dead as was to be expected so he tilted the steering wheel and lifted the hand brake just enough so that his car spun the 180 degrees necessary to take him in the direction of the call. The Pontiac gto60 screeched across the road changing lanes as it went leaving a track of burnt rubber behind it as he sped off towards the source of the disturbance. He rolled down the street in question, his windows down so that he could get a clue as to where the person was. The inhabitants of the high end apartments weren't known for their drunk and disorderly calls and yet here he was. It took him a few runs through the streets before he came across the source, a young woman screaming at the top of her lungs, although the words were incoherent, the ramblings of a drunk often were. He pulled the car up at the top of the alley and stepped out, removing the chain his badge hung from and allowing it to sit above his shirt.

He wasn't exactly dressed in police issue, given that he was a detective he chose to wear clothes that fitted him and not the job. Today for example he was wearing jeans, a plain shirt and jacket, nothing that screamed cop. He approached the young woman slowly "How are we doing tonight?" His approach was subtle, he wanted to see how drunk the girl was before he reacted, there was no need to anger her any further. She had just finished beating on the dumpster when he arrived and he had no intention of getting hurt tonight. He could feel the eyes of those living in the apartments weighing on his shoulders as they watched him eagerly, hoping he would drag the scum away from their area. Justin wasn't likely to be unduly aggressive in his pursuit, he preferred to get a feel for the situation before he took the appropriate course of action. "How about we drop that and talk about the problem."

[Trisha Morello]

"That fucker... never asked me if I wanted this." It was a slurred mumble that only she understood the motivation of. Trisha had stopped beating on the dumpster and she was about to toss the metal bar to the side before someone came up from behind her. The presence frightened her and she gasped, spinning around and raising the bar threateningly. It was a defensive maneuver. She hated being caught off guard. One of the downsides to being drunk off her ass. She was slow to react and her surroundings were left unnoticed.

She gave him the once over. Another good Samaritan wanting to offer her a hand? The thought annoyed her and she managed not to roll her eyes noticeably. He asked how we were doing this evening. A strange choice of words and she couldn't help but be reminded of a police officer. Then she noticed the badge hanging on a chain around his neck. Ugh. This was just her luck. Instead of following his suggestion, she kept the bar held up.

"Men always wanna talk!" she complained loudly, nearly stumbling over. She lowered the metal bar, but she didn't drop it. It was more so because her arm got tired of holding it up. It swung at her side lazily as she took a step toward the officer, smiling slightly, drunkenly. "Are you going to arrest me, officer? Did one of these rich fucks phone in the cops?" She chuckled. "Help! Someone is banging on my million dollar dumpster!" Her voice rang high as she mocked a dumb, privileged woman.

She stopped her advance and she gave him a long side glance. "You look like you could use a drink." She paused, looking down at her bottle. "But I'm not sharin'! Find your own!" She spun around and started stumbling down the alley, thinking he would just leave her and ignore the call. Trisha absently looked down at her clothes. He had been dressed rather nicely if a little casual for his job. She was wearing jeans like him, but hers were worn and old and too big on her. She wore a black tank top that was also a bit too large for her. The days were hot but the nights did prove a bit chilly, but the alcohol coursing through her prevented her from noticing. But her small frame was noticeable, the bones of her shoulder blades poking unappealingly at her skin. No wonder she couldn't get guys to fucking sleep with her sometimes. She walked around looking like a bum.

[Justin Taylor]

Men always wanna talk, he had to admit that was the first time he had heard that one, hell if you spoke to any of his ex's they would tell you that men don't talk enough. They always wanted men to open up and talk about their feelings and all that shit, he watched as the metal bar dropped to her side. It still presented a challenge, perhaps even a danger depending on how the situation developed but he needed to tread carefully. She stepped towards him, her frame swaying side to side, clearly she had taken more than her fair share of booze tonight, the call was right. Was he going to arrest her, only she could answer that question, the outcome of this situation depended entirely upon how she acted. If she were to calm down and simply move on, then there was no way he would arrest her, he didn't want to be here anymore than she wanted him here. That idea went out the window the very second she began shouting towards the higher up apartments, attempting to sway her accent perhaps in a mocking tone, it was hard to tell with the slurring.

He looked like he could use a drink, at least according to the drunken woman, to be honest booze was the last thing he needed. What he really wanted was a good night's rest in his bed, drink couldn't be further from his mind. The next bit made more sense, she wasn't sharing, it was only then he noticed the container, up until now he had been focused on the metal pole. Then she spun and started stumbling down the alley, there was no way he could just allow her to stumble around this area without settling the issue. Not after he had been called out and she continued to shout even in police presence. He followed behind her, maintaining enough of a distance that she wouldn't be startled or feel backed into a corner. " How about you drop the bar and tell me your name, that would be a good starting part. Here I'll start, my name is Justin and obviously you know I work for the police." He remained as calm as he possibly could, there was no sense in raising the intensity levels of the situation. There was no reason for this situation to escalate any further than it already was.

He ran through the potential solutions, he could keep trying to be calm and nice but that would only last so long. He was at his wits end, given he had worked all day, there was part of him that wished it had been some 300 pound drunk man stumbling around. That way he could have taken him down there and then and ended the night quickly. Now of course he was following some drunk 20 something through an alley hoping she would drop the weapon and allow him to take her home. That would be too easy though, part of him knew this night would end with one of them in cuffs and not the fun sort of cuffs.

[Trisha Morello]

She heard him behind her and she tried to ignore his footsteps, her hypersensitive ears picking up every little step he made. She was only just starting to tap into her abilities and they kind of freaked her out. She was able to see clearly in the alleyway and the smell of alcohol was strong, but under that she could smell the clean stench of the people's homes mixed with the stink of the garbage in the alleyway. And she could hear his footsteps and his breathing. Everything was magnified and it often shook her to the bone. Being able to see and hear the world like this was unnatural and she knew it.

He told her to drop the bar again and her fingers tightened around it defiantly. She would have gotten rid of it eventually, but because he told her to throw it away, Trisha wasn't going to abide to that. It was only because an authority figure told her to. There was really no reason behind it - it was just to spite him, to piss him off. He told her his name that she didn't fucking ask for and she rolled her eyes in annoyance. She spun around to face him.

"Congratu-fucking-lations, pig. I know you're really not interested, but my name is Trisha and I'm doing fine without your assistance." To show him, she brought the bottle of vodka to her mouth and took a long swig. She cringed as the harsh liquid went down her throat. She almost gagged, too. She shuddered and shook her head violently. From the corner of her eye, she could see an older woman staring curiously out her window, poking her head out. Trisha looked up at her and she flared with anger.

"Hey, bitch! Does this look like a fucking soap opera?!" She raised the bar threateningly and let out a menacing cry which made the woman retreat back into her luxurious apartment.

[Justin Taylor]

He was trying to be nice, he had spoken softly and non threateningly, hoping that he could resolve this situation peacefully. The second she spun round with an elongated congratulations and called him a pig, he knew it was going to end badly. She still hadn't relinquished the metal pole, perhaps it was her way of sticking it to the man. She was clearly intoxicated to the point where she would read off the charts if he breathalysed her. The longer he was in her presence the more he was convinced that he would be doing her a favour by throwing her in the cells for a night. The drunk tank would allow her to sleep off the booze and whatever issues had caused her to get so intoxicated, the girl had issues but then again, these days who didn't. She told him her name, or at least it was a name, he had no way to know whether it was her actual name or just some figment she had plucked out of the air, who actually told the cops the truth these days, everyone had something to hide.

He was about to speak before she started flailing the bar in the air, it took all the self control he could muster not to draw his pistol right there. He would be in his rights, she was threatening innocents, he wouldn't fire but the pistol might prove a deterrent. But he knew that was a rookie move, the sight of a gun would be the equivalent of pouring gasoline on the fire, instead he stood his hand and signalled for the woman to get back in her apartment. "Listen to me Trisha, this is still in your hands, how about you tell me where you live and I can drop you off there because right now, that's the best case scenario. Have you got any I.D on you?" By rights he should have rushed her and cuffed her by now, that's what several other officers would have done in his place. Then again he knew that a lot of the people in his precinct were renowned for their lack of tact, hell most of them had charges of police brutality laid at their door but of course none of them stuck. They simply disappeared or were mysteriously dropped before going to court, it was convenient in a way. He was aware that the place was corrupt but it was what it was, he simply tried to make the city a little better each day, ignoring the flaws in the system.

"Trisha, we can do this dance all night but it's only a matter of time before these people call again and more officers arrive and believe me neither of us want that."

[Trisha Morello]

Trisha startled chuckling as the woman rushed back into her apartment, closing the window decisively. "Stupid bitch," she said softly through her chuckles. Her laughing was cut short when she heard Justin start talking again. She leaned on the wall and looked at him defiantly, eying him up and down. Tell him where she lived? Give him an I.D.? Well, even if she wanted to, she had no I.D. to give him. She was a walking nobody. She was sure she'd seen a missing poster with her face on it, but that was miles away in her home town. The one she'd left behind. She doubted that they had made it this far. Her drivers license that she had got lost somewhere along the way and she obviously couldn't get another one. Maybe that Viktor guy could.... Ugh, nevermind. Forget that smug bastard.

She straightened her back and took a few slow, uneven steps toward the police officer, her expression coy and mischievous. "You wanna take me home, officer?" Her voice was soft and if she weren't drunk it may have sounded seductive, but the words slurred together messily. "Continue this dance in the bedroom. Cuff me, Mr. police man." After a long moment, she snorted with laughter. She spun around in a circle, stretching her arms out. "Arrest me! SHIT CAN'T GET ANY WORSE THAN THIS!" She stopped her spinning only to fall on her ass from the dizziness. The metal bar dropped from her hand in the process, but she had made sure to hold onto her bottle.

[Justin Taylor]

His patience was wearing thin, even saints had their limits and Justin was far from a saint, he had sinned just as much as most. She stumbled towards him and for a second he considered grabbing her and cuffing her where she stood, of course he would have to remove the pipe but that would be no issue at this point. The conversation took a different slant as she spoke this time, she seemed to be coming onto him. All subtleness of her approach was lost through the intoxication but she asked him if he wanted to take her home, perhaps cuff her in the bedroom. The last place he wanted this woman was in his bed, she was clearly off her ass drunk and if she was coming onto him to try and get out of being arrested, she must have been some sort of slute. Justin hated slute's, women who would degrade themselves in such a way, it was shameful really and drunken slutes were worse.

She spun round in a circle, possibly awaiting a reaction from him, was she expecting him to have a look at the goods? Because if so, she would be sadly disappointed as far as this particular sale went, Justin wasn't buying. Once she had finished spinning, perhaps she was dizzy or felt like she was going to be sick, either way she stood still or as still as she could manage given her current state of intoxication. She shouted the words arrest me, shit can't get any worse than this. The people watching from their windows almost wanted to applauded as she fell on her backside, Justin however stood stoic before giving her a hand up and cuffing her hands behind her back. She flailed wildly as he smashed dropped her bottle of vodka, the little that was left of it anyway to the ground. Clearly she felt aggrieved that he had wasted what passed for booze, it smelled like little more than paint thinner and nail varnish but whatever floated your boat. Once she was secured he began walking her back to his car, she kicked out randomly hitting a few items here and there, most noticeably the dumpster she had dented with the metal bar. He wasn't certain where she had gotten the energy from, most drunks he knew would have passed out by now, the only thought in his head was that this girl could party. If he didn't pity her, he may have appreciated her ability to keep going.

Once they got to the car, he helped her into the backseat, immediately he regretted the fact he had made an arrest in his own car and not a squad car built to handle such situations. She shouted a few random words that incoherently sloshed together and managed to unleash a vicious kick at one of his windows, shattering it but not breaking it. A few moments later, she passed out and he would have some peace before he got to the station, knowing that he wasn't going to get reimbursed for the window, at least she didn't throw up.