Setting: Grand Room
Time: Night 005, After Rayne Meets Anna Again
Summary: Rayne is Not Happy, Gant comes and makes things worse. Also, y'know. Gant arrives.
Warnings: Gant, Rayne. Hell, Gant + Rayne. Figure it out.
Damon Gant leaned back at his desk, stretching out his back after several hours of deliberating and assigning detectives to various cases, especially the one labelled CN-12... interesting case, that one. Very interesting. There were a number of strange little holes in it, supposedly the result of sloppy detective work early on in the case, but Gant new better. Much better. It certainly was a tricky one! He had no doubt that the team he'd decided on would get the job done, though. And if they didn't, well... Gant steepled his hands, going over his handiwork one more time. He was seated at a wooden desk on the right side of his office, the side with the suit of armour... he always liked to do this kind of work on that side, to remind him of his priorities.
Not, of course, that Damon Gant was prone to forgetting his priorities. He hadn't achieved his post through forgetfulness and laziness, after all. He had gotten here through hard work, a little bit of ingenuity, a lot of careful planning... and a little quick thinking, just at the right moment. He pondered that for a bit, simultaneously entertaining a desire that had been nagging him for a while, a desire to go on his lunch break and go swimming. He had gone this morning, of course--he always went swimming before coming to the station, rising early at the same time every day to get that crucial time alone at the pool. Or not alone, sometimes there were other people there, and he enjoyed having a good talk with them.
...yes, it was decided. Gant pushed his chair back, standing up to his full (and somewhat impressive) height in one smooth motion, stretching out his muscles and back in the process. It felt good to stand again after those hours spent doing deskwork! He was making his way around the desk, then, when suddenly he slipped and fell forward, the ornate tiled floor rushing at him--
... he caught himself, of course. He wasn't that old yet! But...
...This was not his office. Not at all. In fact, it was... someplace completely alien. Very large. Houselike. It was also rather nippy. And... dark. Odd. Gant picked himself off the floor, straightening his orange coat and looking around, grey-green eyes simultaneously studying and admiring the decor, meticulously scrutinising his surroundings. Nice place, but...
Turning, the Chief of the Los Angeles Police Force placed one gloved hand on the knob of the door, trying to leave.
It didn't budge. He tried again.