by Selestia » Mon Apr 20, 2015 7:11 am
The charming Constable Perilat was not a hard person to find inside the Constabulary. He did not have his own personal desk but shared with other detectives, which was fine; they were never in the same place at the same time and as long as personal space was respected nothing untoward ever happened. Not that anyone untoward was happening at the moment. He is there, however, behind one of those shared desks, doing his own little bit of paperwork, though nowhere near as neat and precised at Breve's was. Ever. The papers were filled out thoroughly but not exacting, leaving some vague interpretations with his shoddy handwriting. The man looked good and could charm a nun out of her small-clothes (possibly) but his handwriting looked like a left-handed palsy patient wrote with their right foot.
"Some pranksters went over to the old Southerby place last night," he says when he hears the footsteps of Breve coming his way, not even looking up from his papers, though his tone sounds bored...a little. More amused than bored. "Sheared his sheep a couple weeks ago, and someone went in there and sheared them down a bit more in specific places to make some right lewd little pictures in the new wool." Frankly, it amused the hell out of him. He could handle teenage shenanigans--that part was significantly easier than talking Southerby out of his hatchet and threats. And far, far easier than when he looks up and sees Breve, eyebrow crooking upward in his Yeees? look.
"What have you there, luvvie?" Breve was use to the little nicknames that came absently from his mouth--it did not mean that she liked them one bit, but work with the man long enough and folks would realize that he did not do it on purpose, it was simply a contingent habit of his. He tries, really, but the effort of thought was better wasted on other things.