Work Text:
Carlisle pressed his hands into fists, fighting the itch that grew along the skin of his forearms. The chiefs office was humble, dimly lit from the constant grey overcast, but suffocating in its normalcy. A metal filing cabinet in the corner, a cheap wooden desk, thin-bladed blinds that leave a pattern on every surface the light touches. Including the chiefs face.
Smooth skin, rough stubble, healthy moustache, dark under-eyes. Most concerningly, to Carlisle at least, was Chief Swan’s scent. He smelled of some generic unbranded mens cologne, which quite frankly, should’ve deterred Carlisle entirely. But, other notes made its way through. Like the mint on his breath, mingling with the duller smell of tobacco, as though he’d been trying to kick the habit of smoking for a while and replaced it with chewing mints instead. Carlisle expected the relapse had something to do with what put the shadows under his eyes. No doubt that he was about to be clued in on it during this briefing.
There was no one thing that drew Carlisle to Chief Swan, but he was drawn in nonetheless.