Defining Normal | EMBRY CALL

Unwelcome

"What are you-"

"I'm not-"

"The fuck-"

Chief Swan waves his hands, effectively silencing the group. "Just come with me, please. We can sort this out at the station."

Lex can feel everyone's eyes on her. The party's gone silent - no music, no laughter - replaced by stunned expressions and hushed whispers. It's too much, too much at once, and so she does the only thing that makes sense.

She leans forward and pukes on Chief Swan's immaculately polished work boots.

He leaps back a second too late, emitting a strangled groan of disgust. She can feel a warm palm rubbing her back, coaxing the last of the nausea out of her, but it's no good. The whole situation is sickening, really; knowing the confrontation that's about to occur is enough to keep her retching.

"Charlie, she's in no state to go with you," Sue says worriedly, her usual jovial expression pulled into a frown.

Sue's right - she's piss drunk and on the edge of hysteria, but it doesn't matter to Charlie.

"I need to bring her in, clear it up so we can close the file. I'll make it quick," he promises gruffly.

Lex glances up at him from her hunched position on the linoleum. "Can I bring Embry at least? Please," she adds as he frowns.

Between her distress and the man's protective stance over her, it doesn't seem as if Chief Swan has a choice, and so he nods sharply.

"Fine. Let's go," he urges, bristling at the harsh glare Embry sends him. "I'm doing you a courtesy, young man, don't get snippy with me."

There's scowls all around as Chief Swan leads them out of the party. Lex thinks she's about to cry - she didn't want this, she never wanted this, and now all of her family issues are rolling out in front of everyone in a huge spectacle. Embry's palm resting on her lower back is the only thing keeping her upright, but she doesn't dare look back at him. He'll need an explanation, the full story, and that's something she just isn't prepared to give. He's patient though, gripping her hand tightly in the backseat of the cruiser as La Push disappears around them. Chief Swan says she isn't in trouble, they're just needing to clear things up, but being in the backseat of a cop car doesn't help dispel her shame.

Embry must be able to sense her fear, somehow; he whispers reassurances to her as they drive, reminding her to breathe slow and deep, promising that he'll look after her. He doesn't seem to be angry, not yet, but it'll come. It always does.

The first growl comes when Chief Swan yanks the passenger door open, gesturing for her to hurry. They look over at him, perplexed, but he only clears his throat, scowling back at the Chief.

"Inside, please, Miss McKinley," Chief Swan orders, trailing closely behind her. He's determined to ignore Embry, but he hadn't counted on Embry's persistence to not be forgotten. He's a single step behind the girl at all times, watching her like a hawk for any sign of need. Odd.

Deputy Mike has the father posted up in a rarely used interview room at the back of the station. The man had come in like a whirlwind, his scraggly hair on end and dirt smeared across his nose. One look at the fellow had him expecting something banal, perhaps a traffic complaint, but he'd started talking, his story jumbled and frantic, and they'd urged him into a private room to calm him down. Eventually he had given them a name, one that was strangely unfamiliar to the officers - they knew everyone - and a tangled narrative to unpack. It seemed to Chief Swan like some tired domestic that he'd seen play out time and time again - troubled run-away, frustrated parent - but they were obliged to investigate once the complaint had been filed, and so he made a few calls.