‘    don’t move,  hands where i can see ‘em !    ’

adrenaline is familiar :  that’s not what stops her cold.  he’s a  KID.  she’s gotten this far in the force by the skin of her teeth,  by working her ass off  —  &  by trusting her instincts,  for better or worse.  something about this entire case has felt  OFF  from the jump,  just like palmetto.  molars grind,  a hard breath exhaled through her nose,  &  she begins to lower the gun.  slowly.

keeps a solid grip on it with one hand,  blue eyes fixed on this  TEENAGE BOY  whose demeanor doesn’t exactly scream  cold - blooded killer.  free hand moves to her radio before the cavalry can bust in.

‘    false alarm.  he’s not our guy.    ’

all signs,  in fact,  point to this near - disaster being a prime example of  WRONG PLACE,  WRONG TIME.  shoulders relax,  gaze narrowing.      ‘   so you wanna tell me what the hell you’re doing in here ?   ’

two word starters.  // accepting !