Inside the Precinct

The main entrance is a lot more cleanly than you'd have guessed. A janitor on the roundabout passes you by as you approach the front desk, unsure of what to ask the man on the other side. Just a drop of alcohol and you'd have him bent over it, running your hands down his bulging chest underneath his uniform.

Of course, entertaining that thought brings you to the conclusion that there's not much you can do in a police station with _your _power; unless you spike their donuts with vermouth. There's always the lockup you could visit for some inebriated friends, in fact, you see one of your friends being escorted down that hall.