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Jim sped after his suspect, taking turns way too fast and all Blair could do was hold on and shudder as the truck careened around another corner.
Tires screeched angrily as the truck did another sharp right.
“Jim, JIM, we’re gonna die and I’m too young to die, you’re gonna kill the tires!”
“Relax Chief, the tires will hold, you’re not going to die.”
Jim chuckled as he felt his truck shudder, yes, what a normal day in Cascade.
Then the car they were pursuing came to a sudden stop – Jim slammed on the breaks.
Jim glanced over to see the wide blue eyes of Blair’s staring.
Jim quickly slipped out of his truck and stalked over to the car with his gun raised, loudly ordering the driver out to face the justice Jim was ready to give.
“Don’t shoot, don’t shoot, I’m coming, I’m sorry!”
Out slipped the reckless driver: he was little more than a kid.
Jim ordered the teen to place his hands behind his back, as Jim read him his rights.
“When I call your mom, you’re gonna be in real trouble, kid.”
“No, I ain’t done ‘nothing wrong, don’t call her please.”
“Oh ho well, Blair – my partner – will be sure to call your mom.”
“Yeah, maybe I won’t tell you my name.”
Jim – big strong sentinel who fought for justice – laughed and the kid – now shuddering – regretted his joyride.
Blair had made his way over to the two, he was directed to check the pockets of the kid’s coat, jacket, pants: he came up with a wallet.
Blair flipped it open and read it like Jim would, still a bit shaky from the drive.
“Alejandro Martinez, try do tell us what happened?”
“I drove the car, is that a crime, as it isnt in México.”
Jim just smiled, “you drove just a bit recklessly, don’t you think?”
At the boy’s apparent negation, Blair piped “reckless: utterly unconcerned about the consequences of some action; without caution; careless.”
Jim rolled his eyes, “thank you Roget.”
“No Roget did the Thesaurus; I quoted a dictionary.”
Jim decided not to pursue, he wanted to get the kid into the station and call his mom, for now, he ordered Blair to call the car in.
“Good thing you stopped when you did, you, me or someone else could have been hurt there.”
“And your driving is better.”
“Oh enough Blair, that isn’t for fun; for keeping these people safe!”
“Yes Jim, I felt safe when you took out that mail box, and I felt safe when you jumped those train tracks, I felt safe when you fishtailed around that bend and I felt SAFE when you suddenly slam on the breaks!”
“You should try a high speed pursuit, Blair!”
“In your car?”
“Oh, no, no, no and anyway you don’t have the most brilliant track records with cars either, remember the Corvair?”
“Hey, that wasn’t my doing, if I remember rightly, my roommate/partner/friend wanted me to hurry it along because he was hungry.”
Alejandro (in his ripe old age of 14) couldn’t quite believe that these two were cops; they certainly didn’t act like it.
“Whoa, calm down, Chief, I didn’t kill the car.”
Blair rolled his eyes and huffed at him, “and you know.”
“Cars is like a sore topic for you two, hey?”
“Well Alejandro, you are just lucky enough to be pulled over by the most maniac driver in all of Cascade.”
“Hey, my driving gets jobs done, Blair, you know it, it’s not like you haven’t come to realise that my job requires me to take risks, like high speed chases”
And that, though he would never tell Jim, Blair was scared about, and it wasn’t like he didn’t know that Jim’s job was dangerous, he had come to a couple of very close calls himself thanks to being Jim’s guide.
Protecting his guide was one of Jim’s most imbedded sentinel instincts, he felt it through and through that he must protect Blair and that was what angered Jim, for he would never try to put Blair in harms way - he knew his driving ability, but Blair didn’t trust it.
But no, now the task at hand was to deliver the kid to the station and maybe go to lunch, lunch was the reason Blair and Jim had been driving around in the first place.
So now food - something delicious, thought Jim, maybe a street vender – but Blair would probably complain.
A little while later, Jim and Blair was walking down the street when he suddenly spotted a sign, which to him was only a few metres away, but to Blair was more than a hundred, he decided not to give Blair enough time to complain and ran up to order.
Jim bit down into the hotdog, with the extra mustard, tomato and onions; it was like a fiesta on his tongue….
Jim closed his eyes and found himself hearing every sound of the workings of his jaw, the rush of his endorphins as the deliciousness flooded him.…
The feel of the crusty roll in his hand felt like it was from a niche French bakery…
The smell, oh the aroma, Jim was a little lost in his little paradise…
“Jim, uh Jim I think you are about to lose yourself, Jim!”
Jim was next to Blair and he was...covered in hotdog?
“Hahaha,” laughed Blair, “I think you just zoned out there over a hotdog!”