2019-08-22 - Know thyself, know thy enemy.

The time? Sometime after midnight, but before sunrise. The rest of the world has the common sense to be asleep in their beds right now. But first responders don't always have that luxury.

The place? The police break room. There are some vending machines in the corner, a table or two to sit at and eat, some counter space and a handful of cabinets mostly for odds and ends like plastic forks and condiment packets and a microwave that was crafted sometime in heady days of the 1980's.

The lights are set dim here, it is late after all. And set on one of the tables is a conspicuous white box. The remains of a bright blue ribbon lay next to it, casually discarded it seems by those more interested in the boxes contents. The lid is partly ajar and within can be seen lurking delights of a donut-y nature, the dim lights dazzling off some glazed and perhaps what might be a boston creme. What kind soul would just leave these unattended in such a place as this? Poor things.

Who could resist, right? No one. No one can resist a free donut.

The Fire and PD break rooms are separated by a huge lobby and several corridors of offices and the like, but somehow, some way, a Paramedic from the fire side is always wandering into this break room. Sutton dispatched for two months earlier in the year after some kind of on the job injury, and every day found her stealing donuts a couple of times a day.

The blonde (recently, she was a brunette with gold highlights until last week—she also cut her hair from mid-back to shoulder length) glances behind her. No cops in sight. The Captain's door, just a few offices down, is closed.

She's been back on as EMS for weeks, but she hasn't stopped scamming donuts. So it is when she's on shift late, she walks down the corridor like she's going to pass it, then side-steps into the break room. She can spot a donut box at one hundred paces, even without being able to smell the sugary goodness inside. She slips in, hops up to sit on the table, and reaches for that box lid to have a closer look.

It's not as if anyone noticed the missing donuts, right?

It's not like any of the third shift officers decided to wait til end of shift to finally grab one, only to find the box empty and her favorite unicorn sparkle donut not to be seen, right?

It's not like she'd then set a trap and wait for culprit to spring it, right?

As the dispatcher goes to reach for what lies within the treasure chest of the white donut box, the door to the break room swings slowly shut with a SCREEEEE-click revealing Haven standing there in her uniform pants and boots and a form-fitting black T-shirt.

"Well, well, well."

The whole day shift has noticed. She brazenly eats her pilfered donuts in front of most of patrol. Few of them actually say anything to her, at least not to her face. At least the day shifters. The night shift? Well, she's not on night shift all that often. She usually takes nights to relieve a friend who needs the day or the night for any number of reasons, since she doesn't have a family, and loves working.

When she door creaks shut, she glances over only once she's flipped the top on the box. "Well hello there." She doesn't seem to be dissuaded from reaching into the box. And of course she'll eat a sparkly donut when one presents itself, at least if there's not a chocolate cake to take first. Look, she's acting all casual, like this isn't dirty fire theft.

There's a spot inside the box where clearly a sparkly donut once lay. There's still edible glitter on the bottom and on some of the neighboring donuts that were left behind. From behind her back, Haven produces the rainbow colored glitter monstrosity and holds it up.

"It mustn't touch the precious," she Gollums, reaching her other hand up as if to shield the donut from Sutton. "Nasty, treacherous hobbitses."

Coincidentally, there is a nasty chocolate cake donut in the box.

Sutton fishes out the cake donut. "You're a little weird, aren't you, Haven?" The blonde's grin is wide. "Maybe you should ask them to get more of the glittery ones. There's always a couple of those weird cake donuts left that no one likes, the plain ones that aren't even glazed." Someone eats them usually. There's always somebody who doesn't care about taste and just wants to stuff their face with calories.

Sure, the paramedic does eyeball the donut, even as she takes a bite of the chocolate one, with its light glaze, which is in hand. "If it's old fashioned cake or sparkles, I do what I have to do." Could be fire still blames the whole of PD for the glitter in the ambulance incident, and the gurney strapped to the ceiling.

"You'll have to be more specific. Is it weird of me to quote Lord of the Rings? Or is it weird of me to lurk in the dark for a donut stealing fire traitor thief? Or is it both?"

Haven, unfortunately, seems quite serious with her question, dark blonde brows furrowing ever so slightly.

"I think such weirdness is to be expected when you abandon me to Clear the Screen Jean and go back to /fire/ dispatch."

From the way she's talking, one might think they were in a committed relationship and not only familiar with one another by (at most) their voices.

"Seriously, what gives? You get scared?" There's a good natured taunt in her voice there.

Not waiting for the run chucker to answer, she adds, "The unicorn donut is the best one there is." No room for debate there.

"You're not the first to say you miss my voice on the radio, love." Sutton's accent creeps in on that last word, and she smiles a little, just a quirk of the corners of her mouth. It might be missed, except Haven't looking right at her. "My back healed up and they put me on the rig again. You're looking at a paramedic fully authorized to interact with the public." Boy, wasn't that a mistake? Sutton can be a talker.

"Sanding sugar is delicious, but that icing turns your tongue funny color." She apparently takes issue with the unicorn donut being professed the best, and yet she's still eaten it on multiple occasions. It's cruel and unusual when someone's 4th choice is your 1st choice and they devour it before you get off shift anyway. "It's good to put a face to the donut, though. I shouldn't be at all surprised." There's a pause, a long one. "Do you need to hug it out?"

That stare from Haven, if anything, intensifies. She lowers the unicorn donut and states: "Unacceptable." A beat, then she asks. "If I break one of your limbs, will they return you to police dispatch?" Another beat. "I would be willing to do this for you."

Then back to the donut situation: "That's the best f-ing part. Crazy tongue colors." She raises the donut and bites into it, leaving a decent smear of glitter-icing on her lips as she does so. "I'm not a tyrant. I am willing to offer you a compromise," she states, lips glittering. "You may have up to one half of each unicorn donut. No more. No less."

Sutton stares at Haven as she finishes gnawing on her chocolate cake donut. "You know, I almost got shot a couple weeks back. There's hope." That would be when she was in a bar on the boardwalk, the night de la Vega was shot, along with at least two civilians. "I'm on the rotation to fill in between shifts, but dispatch's need has overlapped with my shifts every time." She places a hand over her heart. Alas.

The paramedic considers this offering. "I can guarantee you I will eat no more than half of a unicorn donut if other donuts remain." She eyes the box, picking up another donut selection from the box. Second donut acquired. "If I come on early in the morning and that's the only one left, girl. I do not cook. It's going in my belly."

Haven considers those last words from Sutton, expression carefully neutral. She has exceptional cop face. All of her emotion is in her brows. The right one is arched /just/ so.

"So it is to be war between us."

She licks the glitter icing off her lips, her tongue now slightly blueish green and reaches up to fling her pony tail back over her shoulder.

"I would sooner destroy a stained glass window than a dispatcher like yourself. However, since I can't have you eating my unicorn donut either..."

The rest of the unicorn donut is stuffed into her mouth and she lifts her chin as she chews slowly.

Sutton takes a huge bite of her second donut, which is a powdered donut full of whipped icing. A puff of confectioners sugar whooshes out of her mouth, then scatters down her front, across her arm, and along her belly, snowing her dark blue shirt speckled. She doesn't even react. "Yep."

She raises her chin a little bit, eyes on Haven. She doesn't say anything after that, just takes slow, deliberate bites of her donut. Every time she does, more powdered sugar puffs out along her shirt. She bites, chews, swallows, repeats. One time she inhales, and then has to cough a few times. Never inhale when you're eating something covered in powdered sugar.

There's a long silent moment there, only punctuated by Sutton's powdered sugar prompted hacking. If this was the Old West, a tumbleweed would blow past in the wind. The sun would be beating down overhead. And Haven would be wearing a poncho and a sombrero with little hot pink balls dangling from it.

Instead, she meets the Dispatcher's gaze and says with a perfectly straight face, "I see your Schwartz is as big as mine."

And then with Academy-level crispness, she about-faces on her left heel and heads out into the hallway and into the darkness of the mostly sleeping building. The War, it seems, is on.