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Post by Deleted on Apr 21, 2014 22:51:08 GMT -5
A wrapped bottle was on his desk, along with a wrapped box. The bottle was a yearly appearance on the desk, considering the receiver trended toward being at work, more than home this day. The box was an addition, an afterthought she'd added this year.
Hopefully she would be able to see him later, as sadly she had work to do. But she had eyes and ears that would make sure that he opened the bottle. And the box of cigars she'd sent this year.
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Post by Deleted on Apr 22, 2014 2:38:16 GMT -5
Harvey got to his desk very late in the evening, just a few minutes before midnight. He picked up the bottle, gave it a gentle shake, nodding at the feeling with a smile. He looked down at the box. He picked it up and have it s gentle shake. The smell caught his nose. He set out down, getting it open he smiled.
"Aww this is nice. What's it, what- wait-NO."
Harvey looked at his phone just a moment before the clock struck midnight. He could hear echoes of church and university bells striking the time. He sighed. At least it was over before he had much of a chance to get bothered by it. He pulled a cigar out and settled it before clipping it and lighting it. The whiskey he figured he would wait to.get home to get started on. He sat back at his desk, putting his feet on it, and leading his head back. He puffed lazily. He just needed to be off his feet and loose in the shoulders to get through the rest of the night.
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Last Edit: Apr 22, 2014 22:02:31 GMT -5 by Deleted
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Post by Deleted on Apr 22, 2014 22:02:21 GMT -5
" Detective Bullock." An officer that Bullock didn't recognize was standing there. Strong jaw, firm cheek bones, pants that were far too tight for regulation uniform. A badge that at second glance read "Party Patrol" He stared at Bullock and then said " You're late." He tore open the front of his shirt and put a fingertip up to his lips, coyly. " My name's Steve. . . and Leo said that I need to . . . take care of you." Steve had no time for modesty, staring with deep lustful abandon into Bullock's eyes, a single bead of sweat tracing its way down his pecs towards that v-thing at the bottom of his abdomen that pointed towards his crotch. You know, that weird muscle thing that guys sometimes had when they were hot and trying to get their way into Hollywood and presented themselves as "actors" and didn't do porn, but did do HBO. . . and porn, but not the gay stuff. Just the gay for pay stuff. Yes, it was a gay stripper. . . or prostitute. Hard to tell. And hard. Very hard, wow. That was veiny. And shaved, he had a Sex Luthor cut. . . He looked coy, as guarded and modest as a reporter with her sources, like he'd been waiting there for a while, waiting for Bullock. Steve exhaled slowly, moving closer to Bullock. " And I'm . . . here. . . to take care. . . of you." He raised a sexy eyebrow and started taking off his shirt.
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Post by Deleted on Apr 22, 2014 22:34:01 GMT -5
"OUT! GET OUT!"
Harvey got to his feet and began shooing the stripper out.
"Get out before I have you arrested for prostitution, buddy. I am in no need of your services, buh bye."
Harvey got the young man out the door and shuddered. Bivins would get his, Harvey would make sure of it. He quickly grabbed his things, including the gifts, and began to leave to get himself home before another stripper started coming at him.
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Post by Deleted on Apr 30, 2014 11:11:22 GMT -5
But just as Bullock was getting ready to leave, the door suddenly slammed shut in front of him, apparently due to a strong gust of wind. The desk behind the aging detective creaked loudly, as if it were about to collapse under its own weight. And once Harvey turned around, he would see why: a positively massive pile of candy and cookies had appeared rather mysteriously on top of the desk. The mountain of Oreos, gummy bears, and all manner of sugar reached at least Harvey's chest in height, which meant that it would no doubt be a complete bitch to clean up. On top of the avalanche of confections was a single card, placed ever so neatly in stark contrast to the chaos beneath it. "Lt. Bullock" was written in perfect cursive on the front of the white placard, and within was contained the following: I hope you're not diabetic. Happy Birthday.
- Det. Jones
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Post by Deleted on Apr 30, 2014 17:03:20 GMT -5
Harvey turned and looked at his desk. He growled and dragged his hands down his face.
"FFFFFFFFFFFFFFFFFFFFFFFFFFFFFFFFFFFFFFFFFFFFFFFFFFFFF"
He snatched the card and opened it, seeing the culprit had been John Jones. He threw it down and glared at all the candy. His hands shook with rage. Why? Why do my coworkers have to be these kinds of dicks? Eh? UGGGHGHHHHH
Harvey continued puffing on his cigar. After a moment he looked in his desk, finding a bottle of vodka from a while back. He pulled a bowl out of Montoya's desk and put a bunch of the gummy candies in it and then poured vodka into it. He hid it in the fridge. He was planning his revenge.
Finally he got back to his desk, out of frustration he grabbed an oreo and chomped on it while sending a text to John.
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