Work Text:
It was supposed to be a peaceful, relaxing holiday.
Supposed to.
Like most things in Ch'en Hui-chieh’s life, ‘supposed to’ was irrelevant to what actually happened.
So now, she was sitting at a borrowed desk in the back of the Dossoles police station, filing reports. Just like her usual life in Rhode’s Island.
Fortunately, she should be done in a few hours.
She’d even worn a swimsuit instead of more mundane clothes, and her tail twitched happily as she typed away.
Unfortunately, her effort to at least pretend she was on vacation was interrupted.
“Um- Ch’en, Sir?”
The Lung police officer looked up. Very far up.
Even with her shoulders slouched and a sheepish look on her face, Hoshiguma was very, very tall. And currently covered in white plaster dust.
Ch’en sighed, and her tail went limp.
“I don’t suppose we could-” she began.
“I’m afraid there is a very distinctive horn-print, Sir.”
Ch’en stood up, her dreams of sun and sand melting like ice cream in the Bolívarian sun, replaced by the unfortunate reality of ceiling repairs.
“I think I saw a broom closet back that way.”