Chuckles

Part I

"Detective," he blurted out. It was an automated response, one that he had had to give so many times in the past two years that by now he was programmed to auto correct whenever someone made the mistake of addressing him by the wrong rank. He didn't do it out of arrogance. He did it because he had earned this title, had not just aced the detective's exam but worked hard for it, and it was the one thing in his life that he was infinitely proud of. And he wouldn't allow anyone to take this one source of confidence from him. Frankly, the doubt on Platt's face tried to do just that, so he cleared his throat and asserted strongly, "It's Detective, not Officer," forcing what he hoped was an appeasing smile, even if it felt strained and wrong.

Regretfully, it failed to have the desired mellowing effect, because the desk sergeant reacted with a frown, a roll of her eyes and a miniscule shake of the head, her mien indicating that she didn't care one bit. She took off her glasses and pierced him with a scornful glare. "Words of advice, Halstead," she deliberately left out any title to articulate her indifference regard that specific detail, "snobbery, laziness and skirt-chasing will get you nowhere here. If you think you deserve a permanent spot up in Intelligence, which is yet to be determined and highly debatable by the way, you are expected to put some real effort in," she snubbed and placed the binoculars back on her nose. "I doubt you'll last longer than a second up there. I wouldn't get my hopes up if I were you," she added for good measure, eyes icy, menacing, and full of contempt. The detective was certain, if looks could kill he would be on his deathbed right now.

It had been a while since Jay had been patronized like that by a superior. Unfortunately, it was far from the first time this happened, and he had a feeling it wasn't the last either. When you were blessed with semi-good looks and happened to be successful on top of that, people often jumped to the conclusion that the latter was a sole byproduct of the former. He hated that assumption, hated to be reduced to his physical attributes, which in his opinion weren't even that great. He was an average guy of average height and average built. There were only two aspects about his appearance that he considered above average: the ridiculous number of freckles on his skin and the countless scars littering his body from his time overseas.

Another thing that he considered above average but wasn't at all related to his physique were his accomplishments. Jay Halstead by no means was a bragger, but he wasn't oblivious to his strengths either. He knew he had achieved quite a lot in his twenty-six years, probably more than most in their mid-twenties. The brunette had enough reason to be proud of his himself, yet he kept his successes close to the vest. In fact, he was forever humble about them. He hated the attention, the questions, and the thankyous for his service, hated it all because he knew that once the initial awe and adoration ebbed away, people tended to replace it with envy, pity, and malevolence.

But it was days like today – days when investigators of all people not just underestimated him but downright invalidated everything that he had worked so hard for, basically deeming him incapable of doing his job, even though they didn't even know him or anything about him – when he wished he weren't so Goddamn modest and private all the time. It was days like today when he wished he were every bit as cocksure as people made him out to be and wouldn't give a rat's ass about what others thought of him once the truth came out.

That wasn't him though. Halstead wasn't the least bit pretentious or condescending. Contrary to what everyone assumed, he was rather diffident and introverted, always had been. And he cared way too much about how he was perceived by others. That's why he didn't like to present every puzzle piece of who he was on a silver platter for people to pick apart and poke fun at. He let them jest but only at the things that he allowed them to see. He would go about dealing with Trudy Platt's judgement in the same way: by leaving her to believe that her opinion of him was right, that she had him all figured out. By swallowing the hurt that came with being lowballed once again and plastering an elusive smile on his face, chuckling timidly, "thanks for the advice, Sergeant. I'll keep that in mind." Jay ignored the sneer as she shook her head appraisingly yet again, and calmly inquired, "is there anything else I need to fill out or sign?"