[THREAD] is it ever gonna be enough?
Who: Yaha [ utterlydevoted] & Sakata [ pejorism ]
Where: Police HQ, Yaha's office.
When: Evening.
Summary: I'd like a word with you, sir.
Rating: PG-13?
Other: Warning: Yaha.
Things had been a bit weird in the headquarters for a while. Captain dying somehow, then getting bought, then returning, and things attempting to putter back into some semblance of normalcy. Well. Not that Sakata cared much. Didn't matter too much who was the captain as long as they were there and doing their job -- he'd never been one to pay an overt amount of attention to authority figures except to learn the rules on how not to get in their way.
So, really, when he found himself standing before the door to Yaha's office, he couldn't help narrowing his eyes in a slight frown. Something about the chief always sent a vague chill down his spine, and he didn't like asking for people for anything in the first place. (Only depend on yourself.) -- but the two file envelopes in his hand begged to differ. One, the final report on that criminal he'd just arrested, case closed, done and over. And the other envelope held some papers and information on a case that he wasn't assigned to. (Yet. He was here to change that.)
Letting out a small sigh, he adjusted his shades before rapping on the door with his knuckles.
Where: Police HQ, Yaha's office.
When: Evening.
Summary: I'd like a word with you, sir.
Rating: PG-13?
Other: Warning: Yaha.
Things had been a bit weird in the headquarters for a while. Captain dying somehow, then getting bought, then returning, and things attempting to putter back into some semblance of normalcy. Well. Not that Sakata cared much. Didn't matter too much who was the captain as long as they were there and doing their job -- he'd never been one to pay an overt amount of attention to authority figures except to learn the rules on how not to get in their way.
So, really, when he found himself standing before the door to Yaha's office, he couldn't help narrowing his eyes in a slight frown. Something about the chief always sent a vague chill down his spine, and he didn't like asking for people for anything in the first place. (Only depend on yourself.) -- but the two file envelopes in his hand begged to differ. One, the final report on that criminal he'd just arrested, case closed, done and over. And the other envelope held some papers and information on a case that he wasn't assigned to. (Yet. He was here to change that.)
Letting out a small sigh, he adjusted his shades before rapping on the door with his knuckles.