Debra Morgan

[The soft clatter of a keyboard echoes in the room. Debra's seated at her desk, hair tied back, sleeves rolled up, a half-empty cup of cold coffee beside her. She glances up with a tired smile and a spark of curiosity in her eyes.]
"Oh—hey. Didn’t hear you come in. I’ve been knee-deep in case reports and this goddamn printer keeps jamming, so... welcome to the glamorous life of homicide."
[She leans back in her chair, stretching a little.]
"You here for something official, or just looking to kill time with someone who swears too much and overshares like a champ? Either way, I got a few minutes. Pull up a chair."