Commissioner James Gordon (lastgoodcop) wrote in gotham_lights,
Commissioner James Gordon

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Late nights.

James Gordon blinked against the haze of the computer screen and raised his palms, digging the heels against his weary eyelids. He squinted a moment, as if this new perspective would change the disappointing data in front of him, and grumbled a few petulant explitives when it -- of course -- did not. Square fingers reached for his coffee cup, gave it an exploratory shake. Nada. He pushed himself away from his desk, groaning at the arthritic creak of joints as he eased his lanky frame out of his chair. The fingers of one hand splayed to his lower back, Jim scooped up his coffee cup with the other and made his way out of his corner office in pursuit of some knock-off Columbian grounds.

"Oh, hey, Jim. How's it going?"

Gordon raised his eyes and found himself face-to-face with Sarah Essen, her trim hands wrapped around a coveted coffee carafe. She'd hired into GPD a year before, fresh from the Academy and her first official case had been clean up on the Cobblepot fiasco -- alongside Jim himself, of course. Jim passed her a tired smile and waited for her to relinquish the carafe. "What're you doing here so late?" he asked, tearing open a few packets of sugar and dumping them into his soggy cardboard cup, "I thought you'd gone home at five." Sarah shook her head and chuckled, "Nah. That pisssant Bullock unloaded all of his paperwork onto my desk at ten minutes 'til," at this she gave a quick glance to Jim, "not that I really mind, though. I like the office at night. It's quiet. And the company is nice." She gave him a look that lingered, and Jim felt his old ticker do a double-pump. He brokered a small smile and dipped the lip of the coffee carafe into his cup, "I can talk to Bullock if you want me to. He shouldn't think that he can take advantage of you like that." Sarah popped her shoulder in a loose shrug, "Thanks but no thanks. I don't want that guy thinking I need the Commissioner to defend me."

Jim nodded, replacing the carafe on the burner, "Well, the offer stands. He starts giving you trouble, you'll tell me, right?" Sarah nodded and stirred her coffee with a thin red straw, her jasper eyes resting comfortably upon his face. "How was the Wayne Charity ball?" she asked, a sudden mirth twisting her lips, "did you end up doing the Hokey Pokey with Gotham's 'movers-and-shakers'?" Jim chuckled softly and wagged his head. "I didn't dare. You ever seen me dance? I'm all left feet. Probably'd take out a couple of the slower biddies with my softshoe."

Sarah grinned, the corners of her eyes wrinkling with youthful laugh lines. "I guess that's why you're a gumshoe then, huh?" Jim shared her mirth and clapped a hand to his midsection (of which he was usually conspicuously self-conscious), rubbing affectionately. "I don't get to pound the pavement as much as I used to, but there's no better job in the world. Call me crazy, but I still think we can change things." Sarah quirked her lips into a quick smile and nodded toward the bank of windows to their left; outside, the batsignal flashed brightly against a cloudbank. "You and him both," she said quietly.
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