Sleepy (Rule 51)

Rule 51:
Any C-Sec personnel found asleep while on duty will be reprimanded.

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Garrus tapped a talon anxiously against the desk as he ran through the surveillance vid for a fifth time. His eyes scanned over the digital crowd, searching for his suspect, a Blue Suns weapon dealer who had been alluding C-Sec for the better part of a month now. The case had only been turned over to Garrus a few days prior, when a rumor surfaced that the merc might be dealing heavier weapons--namely a shipment of M-920 Cains.

Should that rumor be true, some lucky, rich sons-of-bitches would wield weaponry capable of decimating entire blocks at a time. Garrus didn't even want to think about the damage they could cause within the Citadel, in crowded areas.

The footage bled into Garrus' eyes. Each figure seemed to blend into the next until he could make out little more than a blob of movement. With a groan, he paused the vid, reclining back and rubbing the fatigue from his eyes.

He hissed when the door in front of him flew open and admitted a stream of light into his dark office. Agitated and blinking painfully, Garrus glanced around the screen, his eyes locking on Pallin. He grumbled, "Do you live here or something?"

Pallin scoffed, "I could ask you the same. The janitorial staff put in a complaint that you had locked yourself in again."

"I can't exactly concentrate with a bunch of people dusting off my desk, now can I?"

"You aren't getting overtime for this," Pallin muttered, crossing the room to stand by the desk. He regarded the screen quietly. "Go home."

"I'm running through the vids one last time," Garrus urged. "I keep seeing little things, notice a bit more each time I watch. I'm close to finding this guy, I can feel it."

"You can pick it up tomorrow," Pallin ordered. He slowly moved back to the door, flexing his fingers absently and cringing as his joints creaked.

Garrus sighed, flicking his screen off with a scowl. "Yes, sir."

Pallin nodded and disappeared into the hallway, leaving Garrus to pack up for the night. Once he was sure Pallin had moved far enough away, Garrus reawakened the display and resumed playback. His mandibles flared as he gave a smug chuckle then stretched as he yawned. When would Pallin learn? Garrus had never left a job unfinished and he didn't plan on starting the habit.

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A few hours later, Pallin was giving his office a final once-over, ensuring that all paperwork was filed away and that all lights had been turned off. Satisfied, he pulled on his coat and closed up his office for the night.

He headed out, his mind swimming, though not with thoughts of returning home, grabbing dinner on the way, or getting some decent sleep... No, his mind locked onto the mercenary case and the potential threat those Cains posed.

He'd put Garrus on the case, mostly to keep him busy. The boy had a tendency to sniff around in things that would get him in trouble if he didn't have something to keep him occupied. Now, Pallin was regretting the decision. He hadn't taken the rumors seriously--who would be able to acquire an M-920 Cain? he'd thought--but, as the investigation stretched into its fourth day under Garrus, the threat seemed a little more possible.

For him to have escaped Garrus for so long, this merc had to be high up in the chain of command, clever, experienced. The likelihood of him actually having the rumored goods rose with every day he alluded C-Sec.

Though it would be a blow to Garrus' pride, Pallin considered just transferring the case to a Special Response squad--they were technically the ones qualified to handle military-grade weaponry. However, he knew it would cause a conflict between himself and the brash, younger officer.

It wasn't that Pallin wanted to put himself at odds with the boy, just...

He paused on his way to the lobby, cocking his head as he passed by Garrus' office. A dull glow bled out from under the door--light from that damned holo screen. Pallin gave an irritated hiss and keyed in the codes for the door, determined to drag the boy out by his mandibles if need be.

He entered the dark room, his tongue armed with an order to leave, but stopped himself from speaking as he stepped closer. Garrus was face down at his desk, his head nuzzled into his crossed arms. The surveillance appeared to be looping a thirty-second clip, and the light from it flickered into the creases of the boy's plates.

Pallin noticed a piece of paper stuck to the metal side of the display and moved nearer to read what had been written on it. An arrow was drawn across the top of it, pointing towards the screen, below it the message "This is our guy." Pallin's eyes followed the path of the arrow, and he watched the clip of footage. A batarian in civilian clothing stood directly in the arrow's path. He shifted back and forth on his feet, pulled a hand from his pocket to check the time on his Omni-tool, and was glancing around. Nothing particularly suspicious... he could just be waiting for someone.

Then, for some reason, he turned, craning his head around. The high collar of his shirt pulled away from his neck slightly with the motion, revealing a tattoo on the back of his neck--obscured, but definitely the Blue Suns insignia. Perhaps the man wasn't the merc they were looking for, specifically, but he was with the Suns.

Pallin's mandibles drooped a little in surprise. He wasn't sure how Garrus was so confident that the man was the suspect, but he knew the boy wouldn't declare his guilt without a very good reason. Pallin sighed, staring down at the young officer, watching as his mandibles twitched with each deep, dreamy breath.

Pallin smiled, his mandibles flicking, and removed his coat. Slowly, he blanketed it over Garrus' back, holding in a laugh as the boy nuzzled deeper into the fold of his arm. Quietly, Pallin closed out the vid screen and returned to the hallway, locking the office again.

He'd get a full report in the morning.

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Garrus awoke with the worst crick in his neck and his sleeping arm shot needles up to his shoulder. He sat up and stretched, giving a confused click when the coat slid down his back and pooled behind him. He grabbed the material, pulling it in front of him for inspection.

Standard issue C-Sec overcoat, but it smelled like Pallin. Sure that his groggy mind was playing tricks on him, Garrus fumbled with the coat, flipping it around so he could read the nameplate.

Executor Venari Pallin.

Well, hell... Garrus swore in in head. He glanced over at the screen, noticing for the first time that it had been switched off. Pallin had been in last night, for sure, but had left without even waking Garrus. For once, the young officer didn't expect to be scolded for disobeying orders. Maybe Pallin was happy he'd found the merc?

Garrus didn't know. But, he did know that he was hungry, and that it was early enough for him to have first dibs on anything in the cafeteria. He rose from his chair, studying the coat again. Carrying around Pallin's clothing seemed the inappropriate thing to do in this case, though it could no doubt ignite some exceptionally ridiculous rumors that would give Garrus fodder to laugh at for weeks. Thinking it best, he neatly folded the coat and placed it in his desk drawer.

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Breakfast tray in hand, Garrus entered the break room. It was quiet, empty. The overnight worker's were elsewhere, preparing to leave, and the day shift crew had yet to arrive. That suited Garrus just fine. He took a seat near the wall where Pallin's list of idiotic rules was placed. Without thinking, Garrus scanned of the list, laughing at the audacity of some of the entries. When he read the final, newest rule, gave an insulted trill.

51. Any C-Sec personnel found alseep while on duty will be reprimanded.

It was written only minutes before. The ink was still glistening.

Bastard, Garrus thought. On second thought, I might go get that damn jacket. And wear it.