What started with a random number (BXB) (GAY)

Bailed out

Upon arriving at the station, Emory was aggressively yanked from the police car and forced in front of the officer, who held him by the handcuffs with a firm grasp. 

Shoving Emory forward, the officer led him inside the station and brought him to a small, separate booking room near the front of the entrance. He'd have the initial processing held here. 

The officer holding him forced him down into a chair before he walked out, and another one came in shortly after. He walked around and stood on the other side of the desk he was stationed at. He was an average man, seemingly in his mid-30s. He had dark-skin and deep-brown, curly hair. "My name is Officer Ramirez, badge number 2187. I'll be handling your processing." 

He slid a file from the side of the desk to the empty spot before him and opened it, reading over the papers in front of him. "Seems like you've been here several times. Stealing, assault. I assume you know how it goes?" The officer questioned, glancing up to meet Emory's gaze, which only hardened. 

"I'm not a criminal." 

"I never said you were, buddy. But you have been arrested for assault before, this is your second offense. The consequences will be much larger this time. Understand?" 

"It wasn't my fucking fault, he was--" 

"You'll be able to make your statement later, okay? For now, I just need to ask you some simple questions and get some stuff done. Can you work with me on this?" Surprisingly, the officer had quite a gentle tone. Unlike most of the other cops, when it came to him. 

Emory nodded but rolled his eyes, leaning back in the chair. His wrists and arms hurt as they were pinned behind him, so he shifted slightly. The officer took notice and walked around the desk, gesturing for Emory to stand up. 

He stood, and the cuffs were taken off of him shortly after. "You don't need these behind you, you're not an immediate danger." He scoffed, putting them back on Emory--in the front--before allowing him to sit back down. 

He returned to his original position and pulled out a notepad and pen, sitting down in the chair behind him. "Emory Rosewood is your full name, correct?"

"Yeah," Emory muttered, glancing around the room. He appreciated the officer moving the cuffs, as he was much more comfortable, much more mobile, and they were looser as well. 

"How old are you, Mr. Rosewood?" 

"I'm 18. And don't call me that, just use my name." He didn't like being associated with his last name at all. He rarely let someone call him by it. 

"I understand, Emory. I'll just use your name. What's your address?"

Emory paused briefly; he didn't exactly know, due to his current residence with Red. "Uh, I'm staying with a friend, I'm not sure." 

"I'll see what I can find out. Are you currently on parole or probation?" 

"No. I've been off of it for a year. Haven't been back on." 

"That's good. Do you have any medical conditions or major injuries?" 

"No. I had a concussion a bit ago and a dislocated shoulder, though." 

"Really? What happened?" 

Emory shrugged and glanced off to the side. Officer Ramirez stared at him for a few seconds before continuing with the processing. "That's okay, you don't have to answer. Now, I'm gonna take your mugshot, okay? Stand up for me," 

Emory sighed but stood up slowly, walking over to the wall where he had taken his the previous time he was in custody. "Front and sides?" 

The officer nodded before stopping in front of a camera. "Face front first," He relayed, before snapping a photo. They did the same process for the right and left sides of Emory's face. "Perfect. Now step over here so we can do your fingerprints."