Guts, Rearranged {INCOMPLETE}

Chapter 9 =Rockwell=

          The sliding doors of the store glide open with a high-pitch squeak and Detective Rockwell cringes as she passes through, the beginning of a headache lurking freely from it. She sweeps the produce section before her, finding a large swarm of elderly men and women meticulously picking through the displays offered to them. There's always been something naturally tiring about supermarkets, whether it's the looping music interjected with the same ads, the bland small talk from staff repeating without shame at every customer who approaches, or the lights above being just tinted enough to distort the colours around the store. She heads to the help desk and asks for Ian, as the employee talks into their headset, Detective Rockwell silently hopes for her time there to be quick.

          While watching a distant checkout employee get ridiculed for the price of an item, Ian approaches while smoothing his hair.

          "Hi there, how can I help?" He eagerly asks, eyeing her up and down. Detective Rockwell produces her badge

          "Good Morning, Mr Waters, I'm Detective Rockwell and this is Officer Haper," She gestures meekly to the officer behind her who's busy looking at the Checkout employee getting reprimanded by the customer to offer a greeting of his own.

          "We're here with the Vieira police Department. Do you have a moment to talk or would it be better for us to return later?" Rockwell looks around at the large groups of elderly and the obviously overwhelmed staff, missing Ian's eager fabricated customer service grin melt into an expression of concern.

          "Yeah, yeah, of course, my office is right this way." He says hastily, gesturing to the staff area door before taking the lead to it.

          "Is this serious?" "I'd prefer we wait to talk until we're in a more confidential space." Rockwell dismisses quickly. Despite being here for less than fifteen minutes, her patience is wearing thin. As they approach, Rockwell and Haper eye the staff warily, they're up to their ears in customers and their smiles fail to hide the stress brewing carelessly inside them. They shoot the three dirty looks as they pass, making it apparent that Ian's relaxed position is something commonly causing trouble in the workplace. Once they enter, it proves to be no different with Rockwell meeting the eyes of more employees, only having no plastered smiles to filter their stares.

          "Have a seat, Detective." Ian offers while closing the door to his office once everyone has entered. She sits and spots the wrap on Ian's arm as he makes his way to the other side of his desk.

          "You hurt yourself there, Mr Waters?" he inquires, fishing out a pen and notebook instead of looking at him.

          "Oh this? No, just a bit of a sore muscle from Tennis." He mimics a racket motion while he chuckles. His attempt at continuing his carefree demeanour is halted when he sees her serious expression.

          "Right, I just have a few questions to ask you regarding the employees here, for now I won't be relaying too much information so we can get the best answers, do you understand?" She looks up from her notepad at him and finds a confused Ian looking ack at her. A frown graces her face and she scribbles on her notepad. Ian stays silent for a while before nodding, the fear of just what she could be here for only freaking him out further.

          "Uh huh, and how has the employee morale been recently? Any dips or improvements?" She asks, keeping her eyes to her paper. Ian ponders for a moment before slowly shaking his head as he watches Officer Haper study the calendar on his wall.

          "Nothing more than our younger staff sleeping in." He chooses to not primp his statement with a laugh, feeling it possibly being incriminating, a dangerous move when he isn't sure what reasoning they have to be there anyway. Detective Rockwell hums in confirmation.