[ update two days in a row bc it's mean to leave you hanging like that ]
☆︎
YOU WERE A GODDAMN NOBODY, ROMAN — SO PATHETIC THAT YOUR OWN MOTHER DIDN'T WANT YOU — THEN WE PUT YOU ON THE MAP. WE HELPED YOU MAKE A FUCKING NAME FOR YOURSELF, AND YOU REPAY THE FAVOR BY KILLING ZAY?
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☆︎ FEBRUARY 4TH, 2000 ☆︎
"Pizza me, Detective Dipshit," Indiana ordered while holding out a paper plate.
Wallace rolled his eyes but did put three slices of pizza on the plate for her to take back to Mark's office to share with Sidney and Jackson. Most everyone in the precinct was working late and tirelessly to try and find a way to stop these murders.
"It's nice to know taxpayers' hard-earned money is going toward your little pizza party," she said in a snide tone before returning to Mark's office, ignoring the scoff that Wallace let out. "Couldn't even give us two slices a piece."
"All right, all right. It's pizza, not a party," he said, looking pointedly at his fellow officers who needed to focus back on the case. "Everybody get back to work. Anybody seen my fucking partner?"
Rather than tell Wallace that Mark was supposedly searching the set, Indiana just delivered the pizza, leaving the plate with Sidney at the desk while carrying her own slice and Jackson's over to him on the little couch.
"They didn't have pineapple?" Jackson asked with a frown, taking the slice of plain cheese from her.
"It's not exactly a Pizza Hut buffet," Sidney commented with a tired smile.
"I don't want to be here," Indiana grumbled while also shoving the pizza in her mouth, not caring about talking with her mouth full. She didn't want to be there so much that she didn't even comment on Jackson's preferred pizza topping. "We shouldn't be shut up in a police station while Isaiah's killer is running around and getting away with it."
"Hey, they won't get away with it," Jackson told her, wrapping an arm around her as he did. "This sick fuck is gonna regret being born when this is all over."
Indiana took in a deep breath and nodded, keeping her rage contained for the time being.
"What did his parents say when Dewey called?" Sidney asked them, rubbing her forehead.
"Annabelle did the whole sobbing act and blamed it on the band," Jackson said, looking at his hands. "Screamed about God punishing her for having a son who lived in sin or some shit like that."
"She's not wrong," Indiana mumbled, earning confused looks from the other two. Tears welled in her eyes but she didn't let them fall. "It is the band's fault. He'd still be alive if I never dragged you all into this. It's my fault."
