The officer rummaged at the rickety table beside the entrance of the holding room. He balanced two Styrofoam cups in the spaces of his fingers. Honor, a built guy, perhaps around his thirties sat at the head of the room handcuffed to a silver bar. His eyes widened at the sight of the official, dumping spoons and spoons of sugar in one of cups, and silently prayed that it wouldn’t be offered to him. He couldn’t stand artificially flavored things.
The officer coughed in his shoulder, his eyes blinked double, then he took a short breath. “Got a cold there?” Honor wiggled his arms. The silver restraints beeped for the millionth time.
“Not really,” he placed the beverages before them, “Just allergies. They really start messing with me around this time of year. “Honor eyed him sit up in his seat, and remove a key from behind. “Got you’re mug shots,” he signaled with a nod, clicking the left arm free.
“Oh, really? And Beckett’s?” he marveled.
From a folder the officer pulled them out. Glossy and brand spanking new, the photographs were without a doubt Honor’s best angle. “Damn, we are mighty fine”
The officer raised an eyebrow, “You two a couple?”
In an uncontrolled way, Honor grabbed his stomach. “Have you done a background check yet?”
“Well, we know that the two of you are twined together like a life line. Oh, and don’t get me started on the fun list of petty crime,”