“Sheis.”
“I don’t think so. And look at her! She obviously changed back into regular clothes way before her shift has ended. That’s not very professional of her.”
Prue’s face is flushed the same way she is when she’s frustrated about something. The dress she’s wearing is the same type she usually likes to wear. It’s cream, with large flower patterns, and gives her an adorable boho vibe.
“If she was, she wouldn’t pretend she’s busy every time I need her for asketch.”
“I got changed because I was done with my paperwork, and—and… I don’t need to explain myself to you! You always ask me for sketches barely minutes before I’m off!” she groans, bringing her hands to her hair. “Jane has been absolutely clear about limiting my overtime, I’m only following her orders! There areothersketch artists, for fuck sakes!”
“They’re not here yet, and I need a sketch now.”
She grunts, stomping her foot in frustration before turning around angrily and sliding her hands over her face.
I push through Denis’ arm and he tries to stop me.
“Oh no, you don’t want to get in the middle of this. It’s happening every week, there’s nothing to do.”
I turn around towards him with a cold look. “Every week?” I ask through my teeth.Why didn’t she tell me?. “And no one has reported him for harassment yet?”Why didn’tshe?
“Look, I know you two—”
“It has nothing to do with Ortega and me,” I snap. “Now let me go to my girl before I give him the punch in the jaw I owe him.”
His eyes widen before he drops his arm. “I’m sorry dude, I didn’t know she was—”
“Get the chief,” I mutter as I step away from him and towards the group gathered around the altercation.
Matthew sees me first and curses, gaining the attention of Prue, who’s face blush harder.
“Nate,” she starts, taking a step forward to place herself between me and the one I’m having murder fantasies about.
He finally notices me and the rage dancing on my face. He has the decency to take a step back, looking startled.
“Nate,” she says again, placing both her palms on my chest, effectively stopping me, but still not enough for me to drop my eyes off of him. “Nate please, let’s just go, come on. It’s nothing.”
“It’s not nothing,” I growl, lifting my hand to cup the back of her head—to appease me more than her—narrowing my eyes at the slowly retreating bastard. “It’s called harassment, and you should file a complaint.”
“Really, it’s okay, I’ve got this,” she insists, her voice turning softer. Herbody nestling closer.
“I don’t like this,” I grit out, and Raph freezes next to a desk, his eyes focusing behind me.
“What on earth is happening here?” Chief Kosby’s voice rings behind me. “Why is no one working? Why do I have two abandoned suspects in interrogation room 1 and 5? And why are my two freelancers still here when I’ve been clear about overtime?”
“Technically, I’m not on overtime—” I mutter.
“Someone better explain, right this second, before I move you all to traffic and desk duty!”
My gaze drops for a second towards Prue whose eyes are shining with contained tears and I frown.
“Ortega needed a Sketch,” she says carefully. “He asked me, and I told him to ask someone else. It didn’t seem to be an option for him.”
“And why not?” She asks.
Matthew shrugs. “Ask him. He’s been asking her for sketches every day between 4 and 5.”
“And disturbing our work in the process,” someone else mumbles.
“Is that true, Prue?” She clears her throat, but nods. “Good god. Ortega, my office, now. You too Edwards. Prue? Go home sweetheart, we’ll see you next week. Nate?”
