Falling for Crime

Chapter 2

Fumbling with the set of papers, Kirkland nodded and hummed a small 'Thank you', giving a small glance at Alfred, still handcuffed - but sitting sadly in a chair.

The british escort snapped the American out of his distracted gaze, waving the papers in front of him briefly.

"What are those?"

"Oh, nothing too important," Kirkland hummed slyly, "I already told you that there's no chance of your parole, these papers just confirm it is all."

"Oh."

"Want to see them?" Kirkland smiled, meanly opening up the folder with a smirk. He grabbed one certain paper, glazing it over slightly and scoffing before holding it in front of Alfred to see.

"Lookie there, says it in bold; '2 years probation with no possibility of parole'. It's a shame."

Alfred stared at the paper, barely distracted by the movement of other officers and criminals in the office headquarters around him as he glared up at his new escort. "When are you gonna stop acting like a child and more like my escort, Kirkland?"

The blonde officers smirk fell for a minute before he gave an airy scoff and folded the paper back into the folder. "I dunno, I guess I just enjoy watching bad people receive the consequences for their actions."

Alfred almost piped up about how he was a good person, he didn't mean any of this, but instead snarked with a mean reply, "And I guess I enjoy watching bad officers fail at their job."

Kirkland glared for a minute before glancing back at the front desk he was just at. "We're done here," He said coldly, "Stand up; I have to take you to your actual holding cell now."

Alfred obliged, ever so softly smirking at the more irritated tone he earned from the british man.

The british officer slammed the Americans backseat door shut, climbing into the car himself afterwards and shutting it.

He didn't immediately start the car, reaching in his cup holder for a cigarette and lighting it.

Alfred felt his nose scrunch up as the smell of nicotine filled the car. "Dude, could you at least roll down your window? If you're gonna kill yourself slowly, don't suffocate me with it."

"Shut up," Kirkland growled slightly, but rolled down his own car window afterwards and started the car. "I don't think someone who was caught possessing marijuana should be saying anything."

"Weed isn't bad for you."

"No," Kirkland agreed, to Alfred's surprise. "But it's still illegal, and you're still booked in as a criminal."

Alfred gave an annoyed scoff as the other drove off, and the American stared out the window. Trees could be seen zooming by, and he barely acknowledged any pedestrians or bikers that walked or rode along the streets and sidewalks. The silence grew uncomfortable in the car and, even if Alfred wasn't too fond of his new escort, he wanted to rid this silence anyway.

Kirkland beat him to it. "So, Jones, what do you think being a prisoner is going to be like?"

Alfred shifted, jangling his handcuffs uncomfortably. "Considering I've never been to prison, I don't know. Bad."

The officer laughed. "Worse than bad. You're not going to an ordinary prison."

Slight panic. "What?"

"Okay, I say it isn't ordinary, but that's because I work there." Kirkland shrugged. "The one who manages the prison is rather strict, I'd say. Does not tolerate anything from anybody."