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It was like a scene ripped straight out of the movies where character A runs into character B as one is attempting to enter a place that is incredibly symbolic while the other is leaving. Just as Amelia was about to reach for the heavy Seattle courthouse doors, they would open up as if just for her. Except emerging through said doors was a group of uniformed police officers, all very caught up in some sort of discussion. Most were distracted as they all talked amongst themselves that they didn’t notice or at least didn’t acknowledge the small meek woman that was attempting to enter the court house.

Before a collision occurred, however, a uniformed officer stopped in the doorway and turned so that he was instead holding the door open with his backside so that Amelia could enter and the other officers could disperse. Though if Amelia were to try and quietly mutter her thanks and scurry inside, she would be stopped by a familiar voice that she had only heard once before.

“Book-store girl?” It wasn’t an insult by far, the tone sounded perplexed and embarrassed that they even used such a title. It was the officer at the door and he was scrambling to remember the name of the girl that he was letting into the building. He’d met her before—though it had been a very dark time for him and he was not himself…

Amelia probably wouldn’t recognize him—he looked healthier, rested and happy. While he wasn’t really completely rested nor was he really happy, he had at least gotten enough of a break from that damned Oneiroi—at least that’s what the old woman told him they were called—that he could pretend to function at full capacity.

Standing wearing his court uniform—a long sleeved jacket with all the ornate buttons, stripes, chevrons, badges and pins that almost resembled a military uniform matched with a pair of unbelievably straight uniform pants and an eight-point billed cap—Tristan did indeed look like a completely different person. Police officers generally did when they were in uniform compared to when they weren’t. While they only changed their clothes, people never recognized them right away.

“I’m sorry, I know that’s not your name… We met at the book store several months ago—you recommended I speak to Granny?” The officer asked, stepping out of the way so either Amelia could go inside the court house and he would follow or stand outside the courthouse. Either way, he didn’t want to block people from entering or exiting the courthouse.

“Yes, thank you.” Tristan responded with a quick, polite nod as his gaze followed Amelia into the courthouse. Since they were obviously in a conversation now, it would be rude to simply let the door close between them and leave, so Tristan stepped after Amelia, removing his cover as he reentered the building.

Tucking the cover delicately under his left arm, he folded his hands together in front of him out of habit and stood perfectly straight--since any other posture in his court uniform would be impossible. He noticed the younger girl’s immediate discomfort with her surroundings, seeing that ‘fish out of water’ look that he was all too familiar with.

“I hope you aren’t here for something criminal…” He tried to joke, but realized it came off very dry and, well, expected from a cop. He made an obvious face that revealed he caught his verbal faux pas, scrunching up his nose and twisting his lips.

“I’m sorry, that wasn’t very polite,” He always seemed to be correcting himself whenever he talked to Amelia. It was becoming a habit, a very embarrassing one! So instead he relaxed his shoulders and glanced around the open courthouse lobby before looking back to Amelia, “This is practically home number three for me… Is there something I can help you with?”

He almost added ‘as long as it isn’t voiding a traffic cite’ to that question but he caught his cliché dry joke before he said it aloud. That didn’t mean he still didn’t mentally beat himself up over how ridiculously stupid the thought was. Here he was making all the jokes that he hears from the general public—and those jokes drive him mad!

‘You’ve already gone mad, wank bag. Or have you already forgotten your stint in the padded room?’

It was Azazel’s cyanotic voice, something that always brought down to the mood as well as Tristan’s otherwise lighthearted physical expression; causing the officer to look suddenly very serious and slightly irritated.

Of course the girl tensed the moment he made a bad joke—a sign that not only did he make an a** out himself but she also interpreted what he said as insulting.

‘Oh, way to go, tranny sucker… You sure are on a roll today!’ Came the snippy voice yet again but this time, Tristan controlled his physical expressions and ignored the Nephilim. It was a difficult task for sure but one that he had been practicing religiously for weeks… months now since Granny’s intervention.

However, he realized that because his expression did change when Azazel interrupted his thoughts that he made the girl more uncomfortable than she already was…another dumbass move. He was on a roll today….

“I’m sorry, I just…spotted someone that appeared to have questionable intent.” He shook his head, realizing how stupid that sounded too but who cares. It was a lie but hopefully it worked.

‘Oh yes… please continue, you’re doing marvelous!’ Azazel chided once more, his tone sounded actually genuinely pleased but Tristan ignored him.

“I tend to say sorry a lot, huh?” He laughed and shook his head, his expression definitely back to the lighter and brighter one it had been earlier as he shoved Azazel back out of his mind in order to have a pleasant conversation.

“Anyway, I’m more than happy to assist—I really don’t have anything else to do now.” Tristan nodded and gestured to a wall of glass reception windows to the right of the building, “You never reminded me of your name and I do apologize for forgetting it—I tend to remember the names of dirt bags better than people I would rather hang out with—unless you’re name is Azazel, then I definitely know the name for all the wrong reasons.”

‘d**k holster…’

Once Amelia gave him the verbal cue that their contact was still accepted, Tristan began to walk towards the windows that he had gestured towards, deciding to be polite and walk her there. He didn’t know what she was there to do and frankly it wasn’t any of his business. Of course he was curious, it was in his nature, but if Amelia didn’t offer that information then he wasn’t going to pry for it. His contacts with this woman were already hilariously catastrophic.

“Ah, Amelia…! That does ring a bell.” Tristan nodded, recalling the name and specific incident in which she spoke her name to him in the bookstore all those months ago. It was wonderful to have a photographic memory sometimes… though remembering the bookstore was not a memory he enjoyed having since he was quite the mess then and, again, made a fool of himself. It was becoming quite the habit.

‘It is not becoming a habit, moron, because making a fool of yourself is something you do for a living.’ Again, another chip from the peanut gallery comprised of one.

As both Tristan and Amelia walked to the clerk’s counter, he scoffed a sort of laugh at the mention of Azazel being a fallen angel. Oh if only she knew how right she was…

“That’s pretty accurate—in a metaphorical sense, of course…” Stopping in front of the glass window, he waved briefly at the woman sitting behind the window at the clerk’s counter.

The woman smiled and waved back, obviously knowing Tristan. The woman then held up a finger and looked at Amelia, “I’ll be with you in just a moment.”

The clerk then stood from her chair and grabbed a stack of papers that were on her desk to her right, quickly disappearing around the walls that acted as privacy for the offices behind the clerk’s desk. Once she was gone, Tristan looked back at Amelia with a smile as he gestured with a nod of his head to the window the clerk had just been behind.

“Her name is Andi, she’ll take good care of you.” Tristan took a half-step away from Amelia, an indication to her that if she wanted him to go he would do so without taking up any more of her time.

Tristan was waiting politely while Andi walked around--out of sight from both Tristan and Amelia--the office walls to a door that would open out into the main lobby. It only opened one way and that was from the inside to the outside. Now standing in the open door was the blond short haired woman who Tristan called ‘Andi’. She was plump woman who appeared much shorter than before but she appeared just as friendly. The woman waved at Amelia with a soft smile and exchanged a farewell with Tristan.

The uniformed officer was about to turn to leave when Amelia asked if he could stay until she finished her conversation. He blinked, obviously pondering her request for a moment and considering his words before he spoke them. He glanced over to Andi, silently asking her how long she believed they would be and the woman appeared to catch on immediately.

“We’re probably going to be a few hours at least, Tristan.” Andi replied, looking back at Amelia, “Depending on what you want to cover, I don’t want to rush anything and want to help you understand all your options.”

Tristan nodded to Andi, already figuring that would be her answer and understanding why completely. He then looked back at Amelia and stepped towards her, bringing his left hand up to a front breast pocket to pull out a single business card. He then pulled out a pen from his right breast pocket and began to write on the back of the business card by using his left hand as a writing surface.

“How about this… When you finish with Andi, just give me a call and we can meet up somewhere? A favorite coffee shop? Café? Park? Whichever you’re more comfortable with…” He also preferred to get home and change out of his monkey suite. She didn’t directly ask for his help but he knew what people really meant when they said words like she had—he’d been in this job long enough after all.

“Unless you want me to stay here because of safety concerns…?” He asked, looking up at Amelia and waiting patiently for her response. If she wanted him to wait around until she was done because she was afraid of someone being here waiting, then that was a whole different story…and request. In that situation, he definitely needed the uniform on.

‘Oh bloody hell… We are NOT waiting here for several bloody hours you twit! We have things to do!’ Came Azazel’s irritated voice. His complaint was interesting to Tristan since he was unaware of anything ‘they’ needed to do but it was amusing that the damned man was whining over being bored. Sucker.

Tristan waited patiently for Amelia’s response, taking in her changing expressions and subtle muscle twitches to her face. He was reading her like a book because he was good at it and he knew to wait—it was not only polite but the more he waited and didn’t speak, the more likely she would be able to sort out her thoughts appropriately and offer more information to him. It was an interview tactic, sure, but he found that it works on everyone in almost any situation. No one likes awkward silences.

When Amelia’s expression seemed to settle on a sort of expression that was crossed between relief and defeat, he knew before she spoke that she wanted him to stay. He relaxed his shoulders back and nodded as she spoke, knowing that even though she only uttered “yeah” and followed it up with a qualifier that she really did want him to stay.

“It is not a problem at all, ma’am. I will wait for when you are done—I can catch up on some pending court cases in the meantime.” He nodded a second time as if to seal the deal on what he said once and for all. He could catch up with some upcoming trials and talk with the DA’s office on some testimony points or even ask about some cases that haven’t been sent to the DA just yet but will be shortly… There was plenty to do at the court, even if it wasn’t his original plan.

What was purely amusing was the fact that he could practically feel Azazel writhing in frustration at his executive decision. He could feel the spirit want to break free and take control but ever since Granny’s intervention… he’s been ‘a good boy’. However, he did start to get the fixings of a splendid headache which Tristan knew was courtesy of his b*****d poltergeist.

‘Thank you for the headache, a*****e.’

‘You are most welcome, d**k bag.’ Azazel’s voice was rather jubilant and pleased. Tristan could clearly imagine the nightmare just folding his arms with an indignant grin on his sleazy face…

After that, he gave a final nod to Andi before Amelia disappeared with the assistant behind the old solid wood doors of the victim’s assistance office of the court house. He would then preoccupy his time with conversations regarding upcoming and current cases as well as seeking out every bottle of Advil in the courthouse since Azazel was in such a giving mood.

In the end, Tristan found himself sitting on a solid wood bench that lined the long tall entryway of the courthouse, closest to the victim’s assistance office. He found himself incredibly vigilant in his observations of people coming and going throughout the courthouse, visually following specific people that he knew were trouble while watching others that didn’t seem to have any other purpose at the court house. If Amelia wanted him to stay because she was afraid of someone, then he figured he should be on alert in case this someone did show up.

However, no one in particular seemed to stick out as a potential threat. So he remained sitting, checking over various police reports and his collection of subpoenas while he waited for Amelia to emerge once again.