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The Internet was not created for children, and I see no reason to hand it to them now |
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He’s annoying. He talks too much, he’s got that hair that flies everywhere he goes, he wears clothes I would have thrown away when I was his age... Simon watched Blair tap a complicated drum beat on the conference table to his newest acquisition - the advance copy of the latest Angie Ferris tape. But damn does the kid have rhythm. “Sandburg,” he growled briefly, without looking up from the case notes in his hands. Just a hint of warning, he didn’t want to crush the kid, but he had to define the boundary lines. “Oh, sorry Sim - sir.” Blair rubbed his hands briefly on his pants and hopped off the table. The police Captain studied the grad student surreptitiously as he roamed around the office, looking at things. Yeah, he was annoying, but... Simon leaned over to the coffee pot, shooting a glance out to the bullpen. Jim was there, laughing and shooting paper wads at a wastepaper basket on Brown’s desk. He shook his head and tapped the boiler, waiting for the next batch to brew. New, from his cousin’s shop, supposedly some exotic blend of fifteen types of coffee. It still tasted like Maxwell House. Lone wolf Ellison playing office basketball. Hardly regulations, but after the latest case, he deserved a little downtime. There had been a time once, when Jim probably would have eaten any balls of paper that accidentally wafted his way. Now, he looked set to grab the Major Crimes premiership. And a lot of it has to do with Blair. Somehow the kid had managed to do in a few short months what the police Captain had tried for five years. Simon turned back to his paperwork, letting his feet tap a little to the beat, hidden under his desk. Older generation. He grinned a little as he remembered the anthropologist’s flushed face as he tried to apologise for his faux pas, then hastily smothered it with a cough. Blair looked up guiltily from where he had been running a hand over the edging of a shelf, then stuffed his hands in his pockets, wincing and immediately pulling one back out to brush against the butterfly on his head. Simon winced in sympathy. He’d taken a few hard knocks himself during his time on the force, and had suffered through the inevitable headaches. Dropping his hand, Blair moved to look out the window, idly running slender fingers over the venetians. What does he look at? Simon wondered. How does he see this city? The work we do? Although he wouldn’t admit it, Banks found the other man’s wonderment and excitement over the smallest things refreshing. It reminded him there was hope in the world, after all. What was that line from Shakespeare? Oh yeah - ‘Oh brave new world that has such people in it.’ Yeah, that suited Sandburg. So did the words ‘Annoying’, ‘Hippie’, ‘Annoying,’ ‘Loyal,’ ‘Annoying,’ ‘Brilliant’ and..... Friendly. The kid had a knack. Scoring an advance copy from an international singer was one thing, but somehow, he had also managed to tame almost all of Major Crimes with nothing more than an easy manner and a ready smile. Blair Sandburg - a man most cops would automatically shake down for illegal substances if they stopped his car in the streets - had wormed his way into one of the most tight-knit social groups available. Anthropology in practise. The pot chortled behind the police Captain, shaking from his reverie. Tugging the pot out from under the dripper, Simon poured a cup. “Sandburg.” “Uh?” Blair looked up. “Oh sorry man, I was miles away. Just watching the stuff going on out there,” he gestured to the window. Simon held out the cup. “Coffee?” Blue eyes lit up, and Banks felt an absurd glow, almost as if he’d given the kid the best present in the world. “Yeah, sure man, thanks.” Accepting the proffered cup, the anthropologist took a cautious sip and made approving noises. “New batch?” “Yeah, some exotic blend. But it still tastes like - “ “Like Maxwell house,” Blair completed with a chuckle, returning to his seat on the conference table. Simon rolled his eyes exaggeratedly and took a sip from his own cup, using the brim to hide his smile as Blair started tapping on the table surface again.
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All Content Copyright © 2001 Taleya Joinson
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