Page 8 of Simply Perfection
“Touché. Are you still trying to clean up that video from the double homicide the other day?”
“No, I got that over to the captain last night before I left. Today I’m gonna work on the analysis of the audio caught by the tourist’s cellphone from the shootout in Chinatown the other night.”
“I’ve got to work on the same case, looking at the collected rounds and trying to get a match in IBIS. Then I need to test fire all the weapons confiscated in the drug raid last week and enter them in the system.”
“Wanna do lunch? We can go to Eli’s,” Trevor finished in a sing-song voice.
Logan moaned and rubbed his stomach. “I wish I could, but I promised Clay I’d meet him over at his station for an in-office picnic.”
Trevor closed his eyes with a sigh, clutching a hand over his heart. “That’s so damn cute I may puke,” he said, deadpanned.
“Shut up, runt.”
Trevor stuck his tongue out at Logan. “It’s just as well. I made a detour and picked up some barbecue last night on my way home. I can’t blow my budget on any more takeout till payday.”
Logan’s stance became rigid, and a scowl crossed his face. “Did you walk home last night? I thought you said you’d get a ride from Carmichael. Trevor, it was thirty degrees when I left and there was hardly any moon out. I know you’re a self-sufficient kind of guy, but I’ve talked to you about taking stupid chances. You could catch pneumonia or get mugged or worse. I would think with all the shit we see every day you would know better—”
“Logan! Chill, man. I asked Carmichael, but he was going to the opposite side of town to see his folks. I was here until eight o’clock. What was I supposed to do? Call you up and interrupt your and Clay’s night to beg for a ride?”
Logan raked his hand over the top of his head. “Yes! We’re your friends, Trev. That’s what friends do for each other.”
Trevor was a little surprised by Logan’s vehement declaration. Trevor thought of Logan as a friend, but more of the work-friendly variety. Not the ‘I can call you up in the middle of the night because I’m scared’ variety.
“I’m sorry, Logan. I promise next time it’s freezing cold, and I have to get home late, I’ll call.”
Logan nodded. “Good.” He looked at his watch and then back at Trevor. “So, I’ll expect to hear from you in ten hours.”
“Smart ass,” Trevor said, under his breath.
“Better a smartass than an ass that smarts.”
“Okay, Milton Berle, we’ve both got jobs to do.”
“Milton Berle? What generation do you belong to, Mitchell? You realize you are twenty-eight, not eighty-eight, right?”
“Don’t knock the classics, Callen.”
Logan shook his head with a smile. “Ladies and gentlemen, I give you Trevor Mitchell, a technophile with a passion for all things pre-1960. You are a walking contradiction.”
“I prefer to think of myself as multifaceted. You never know which one of my personalities may show up. It keeps all my friends on their toes.”
Logan leaned in and whispered, “Your personalities don’t talk to each other, do they? If so, I can recommend a great psychiatrist.”
Trevor laughed, but quickly sobered when he remembered why Logan could give him such a referral. “How are your sessions with Dr. Lincoln going?”
“Really good. I haven’t had a flashback in weeks, and I’ve cut down on the anxiety meds.”
“I’m glad, Logan. You look good. I’ve noticed that your—”
Captain Fredrick stuck his head outside his office and yelled down the hall, “Callen! Mitchell! Get your asses to work!”
Trevor jumped and smiled at Logan. “Busted.” He glanced down the hall and saw Fredrick’s lean face with permanent worry lines etched in his forehead looking at them. “Yes, sir. Sorry.”
“Ass kisser,” Logan said under his breath.
“Kisser of ass,” Trevor retaliated
“These lips only kiss one ass in this city, baby.”
