HUMILIATE, TRAMPLE, CRUSH, c

EAT A DICK

Raul is taking a smoke break. He takes very frequent smoke breaks, and he doesn't always smoke on them. Sometimes he naps in his car, sometimes walks around downtown, sometimes they turn into lunch breaks. He doesn't actually light up a cigarette until he's outside the station door, and then he stands and smokes and watches the mail truck pulling up in front of the station. A man gets out with the mail, and he hasn't come out by the time Raul is finished, though he isn't paying it any mind until he passes him on the way into his office.

Not even then, really. He just raises a brow at the fact that his letters are being delivered right to his desk, but it's less work for him so he doesn't mind either. Unless they're important letters. About more work. He narrows his eyes, picking one off his desk and slitting it open with a letter opener.

Leaning against his desk, he slides it out and skims it over. The mailman is still in the hall.

"Hey," He says. "You."

EAT A DICK

Nobody but the mailman pays him any mind. 'Hey you' is Raul's typical way to address anyone around the office since he only knows a handful of names that he's always getting wrong anyways. But nobody who works around here wants to pay him any mind.

"Yeah." He squints at the letter, as if he simply cannot believe its contents. "I got a letter." He says, waving said letter, and surveying the man to gauge for some sort of reaction. But then again, he delivered the mail right to his desk, and Raul simply cannot trust anyone who would go so out of their way for their job.

It was fishy. And he certainly knew fishy. Because he was a cop and he dealt with these sorts, of course.

"A letter that threatens no less than five of my vital organs." He adds, as if it's only an afterthought. "Tell me, " he waves a hand in the man's direction so he can fill in his name. "Isn't this letter illegal?"

EAT A DICK

He isn't really threatened by the letter. If whoever sent it really knew so much about Raul, he'd be the last person on the force he'd send such a letter to. He was more apt to commit crime than he was to prevent it. He had a desk drawer full of confiscated goods, and he didn't keep them around for show.

Raul folds the letter up, but keeps it in his hand, so he can wave it around pointedly. The mailman is standing there, looking uncomfortable and whether it's because the letter is his or not, Raul decides to have some fun with it.

One of his favourite parts of his job is the respect it commands. When people who are just about his age call him sir. He nods along to David's answer before he raised a brow.

"Yeah thanks," He says flatly. "I'm a cop, I knew that." It hadn't really been a rhetorical question, either. Any answer was the wrong answer.

"And there's no return address. I wonder who could have sent such a thing." He sighs, meets David's eyes pointedly.

EAT A DICK

David breaks the unflinching gaze Raul sets on him. He looks even more nervous, and now Raul smiles a chesire grin. Maybe more like a cartoon cat that has its prey pinned with a claw, licking its chops. No wait, no cats. Sylvester always loses.

And Raul isn't a loser. He's not a winner either, but he probably could be a winner if he wanted to, if he tried. But that isn't what he wants. What he wants is to antagonize one of the citizens he is supposed to be protecting.

"Astute." He says, nodding as if he commends David. He claps, slowly. "I should just hand over my badge, you really are brilliant."

"But say," He stops mid clap. "Do mailmen need criminal background checks?"

EAT A DICK

David looks uncomfortable, and he looks to know he's on thin ice. The letter hits the table with a slap and a fan of air that sends a sheet onto the floor, where Raul frowns at it.

Then he frowns at David, as if he is disappointed. "So you've never done anything illegal?" He pauses, but not long enough for the man to give an answer. "I mean, until now." He adds, nonchalantly, indisputably, as he straightens up and tucks his hands into his pockets.

EAT A DICK

"Never?" Of course he hasn't done anything illegal. "Not even j-walked? That's impressive." Raul says. It would be stupid to deliver your own threatening letter, but Raul decides to just assume that this mailman is that stupid, if only for the time being, if for only until he gets bored.

There's a stack of paperwork on his desk - he isn't going to do it, not while David is here and not while David leaves. By then he'll have found some other way to waste time while on his payed supposed-to-be-working time, but he's decided to get on this guy's back for now.

Raul grins at him. "Of course you've done illegal things, David." He says, his voice low and his tone some sort of mockery of concern. As if they're friends. As if he really is looking out for David's wellbeing.

EAT A DICK

Raul moves in slow, sidling steps, predatory ones. David looks unbothered by this all, but he's arguing so vehemently that Raul has to think otherwise. Of course a criminal is never quick to confess, but everyone has a breaking point and Raul decides to test see if he can get to this guy's.

"In past tense." He says with a tilt of his head. "We're in the present, now." He points out, moving closer and leaning close, examining him.

"And I said you did – that leaves us in a bit of a bind, doesn't it?"