Ask About The Child

“That photograph..? Is that your daughter?” Asks Violet, raising a hand to gesture to the photograph pinned to the partition.

Research shows that most parents enjoy talking about their children, this line of questioning will surely endear Violet to Officer MacGregor.

Immediately there’s a shift in the woman’s posture, where before she seemed reserved though willing to converse, now she seems on the verge of a full blown confrontation.

Her lips form a hard, thin line, her brow furrows and for a split moment she glances at the photograph before turning away and taking a deep drag of her cigarette, as though meaning to push down some sudden surge of emotion.

“That’s none of your goddamn business, bot.” She says, her voice hard and stern, however analysis reveals a faint trembling beneath the hard veneer, like fish lurking beneath the frigid sheet of ice of a frozen over lake.

“Apologies, Officer MacGregor, I’ll pry no further” Violet states, attempting to backpedal and de-escalate the conversation before things turn heated or worse; physical.

“You’re goddamn right, ye won’t…” she says putting her cigarette back in its place on the edge of the ashtray and resuming the process of cleaning each individual piece of her service weapon.

As she works it’s clear she’s attempting to wrestle with some inner monologue, caught in a spiral of thought, a veritable tsunami of ideas wrestling for control, all the while her hands operate on muscle memory, diligently swabbing the old gun metal with a clean rag.

[-2 Reputation With Nora MacGregor]