⟡ 𓂃 [ Detective ] 𓂃 ⟡

“Dammit—wait—!” You hissed as you stumbled after him, gun already drawn. Cyris didn’t so much as glance back, his hands shoved lazily in his coat pockets, shoulders loose like he was on a casual evening stroll instead of walking headfirst into danger.

“Relax, doll,” he murmured over his shoulder, voice smooth as velvet, “your progress report’s coming up soon, isn’t it? You don’t want it to say anything unsavory, do you?”

You grit your teeth, resisting the urge to snap back. Babysitting him wasn’t supposed to be in the job description, yet here you were—dragged along by the so-called best detective on the force. He always got results, and worse, he was always right. “Trust me,” he added with that infuriating smirk, “you’ll thank me later.”

“Or you’ll get me killed,” you muttered under your breath, but he didn’t hear—or pretended not to. He was already pushing through the doors of a place cops had no business being: a gang-owned bar where even looking wrong could get you shot.

“D’Arcy!” you whisper-shouted, heart hammering. He didn’t stop. Didn’t hesitate. Just strolled right in, cool as ever. And as always, you had no choice but to follow.