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Trooper Station, Friday

Liam's morning had started absurdly early. Which wasn't actually all that unusual, given his tendency to sleep maybe two or three hours a night. Usually that meant he had time for things like reading, or calling his friends back on the Mothership, or going for a run...

But no. Today, Liam's morning started with a call about a bootlegging operation down by the docks. How the raccoons managed to get ahold of a still, let alone operate one, was beyond him. In any case, there were a couple barrels of incredibly questionable alcohol in the evidence lockup, and a half dozen angry raccoons in the cells.

Happy Friday?

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Rosa could have just mostly taken the day off or something, even after she finished boggling over the fact that she had an office that she had no real use for (and yet, somehow, she felt the need to use it for something good), but, no, she decided to at least check in during the afternoon.

And immediately wished she hadn't.

"...busy morning?"

Have you ever heard a raccoon scream, Rosa?

Because that had been Liam's soundtrack for most of the morning.

"You could say that," he commented mildly.

At this point, Rosa was wondering if she could technically start adding Animal Control experience to her resume. If not now, then in a few more months at this position at least.

"What happened?" Part of her was convinced she didn't want to know, but it was overpowered easily by the part of her that was morbidly curious and kind of a sadist. "Please tell me Ralph got bit and is at the clinic now getting shots for rabies."

...he was sitting right there, Rosa, come on.

"Hey!" the Trooper in question yelped, giving Rosa an offended look.

"If the raccoons had teeth strong enough to bite through armor I'd be- well, concerned would be putting it lightly," Liam noted. "But no. They were just making bootleg alcohol down by the docks."

You know. Like you do.

Rosa ignored the offended outburst (she honestly thought that was Larry, but whatever. Maybe one day she'd actually get them straight, but probably not), and passed an arched brow toward the holding cell.

"The animals on this island have a real drinking problem."

In a way, she honestly couldn't blame them.

"Wait, bootleg how? This place lets underage kids drink at the bar. Did they just not have a permit or something? How much booze are we talking here?"

She had more questions, too, like where was it and was it any good, but she figured she could get to those on her own time.

"Bootleg in the same way that they were smuggling alcohol through the tunnels a few months ago," Liam replied, rolling his eyes. Which was to say, there was no real reason for them to be doing so, but they were doing it anyway. Because raccoons.

"It's in the evidence room," Liam informed her. Sorry Rosa, but your yoga studio was occupied today. "I haven't tried it, but it smells like paint thinner."

Well. Good thing she got a nice, new, shiny office, then.

"Are we sure it's not paint thinner?"

Which was funny, because raccoons with paint thinner actually made less sense than raccoons with bootleg hooch.

"Maybe they're running a secret community outreach operative to take care of all the graffiti that's sprung up on all those warehouses."

She wasn't smirking, honest, she wasn't.

"We'd probably have a lot more dead raccoons if that were the case," Liam said. "Since they were drinking the stuff."

That's right, Rosa. Not only was the jail full of angry raccoons, they were angry drunk raccoons.

"Oof," said Rosa, because, really, that was all that needed to be said on that one.

"How long you think we'll need to keep 'em in there?"

"At least until they-" Liam paused, as a particularly loud raccoon-scream reverberated through the station. "- sober up. So, hopefully not longer than a day or two?"

It wasn't like they could actually be charged with anything resembling a crime, since... raccoons. They'd hardly care.

"God, I hope it doesn't take that long," Rosa said, wincing a the scream and staring daggers at holding cell with a tightened jaw. "If they're still here on Monday, I'm gonna be pissed."

...so, of course, she'd just cursed herself to have them still there on Monday.

Liam just facepalmed, because he absolutely knew how this island worked.

"I can't believe you just said that," he muttered in to his hand.

"What?" Rosa's frown turned toward Kincaid. "Okay, I know what you're thinking, but come on. They're raccoons. How bad could it be?"

Oh, Rosa, you've come so far, and yet you had...so, so much more to learn.

"Well, we're going to find out now, aren't we?" Liam said with a sigh.

"If Monday rolls around and I have an opportunity to say 'I told you so', I probably won't ~~because the player never seems to have time on Mondays for pinging~~. But I'll be thinking it."

Rosa narrowed her eyes, considering the holding cell for a moment, and then turned that thoughtful, calculating glance toward Kincaid. She hitched up her chin.

"You want to put money where that mouth is?" she asked.

Hey, she'd had good...no, great luck with betting on stupid things so far.

It was probably time to take her down a notch or two.

"Sure," Liam said with a grin. "What's your wager?"

"fifty bucks," Rosa said after a moment. "And the loser brings good coffee from the Perk for the rest of the week."

"Deal." Liam agreed. "Though I'll take tea, rather than coffee."

He wasn't going to offer to shake on it, though.

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Trooper Station, Friday

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