Camren bit the inside of his lip to keep a smile from giving him away when the captain quickly dismissed what could have possibly influenced his immediate denial when he opened the door. It was a better idea he did. He would have thought by now most would be more than a little suspicious when they found out the man had stayed late the day before. Even if the captain did have a couple files worth of completed paperwork waiting for him that morning. When death is your job, people need to find a way to laugh and let all that pent up now and another out. It was the only healthy thing!<br/><br/><br/>Though even he had to admit, he was getting a little impatient for someone to set off his latest act of mischief. It took him a lot of effort, a ladder and upper body strength to get it set up. He did not drop over two hundred dollars on a mannequin for no one to ever trip over this little joke.<br/><br/><br/>That was beside the point of course. He was sure before the end of the week someone will be ready to rip him a new one and more then a few others cackling at the absurdity of what he managed to set up this time around. Idle hands were the devil's playground after all.<br/><br/>The dark-haired man couldn’t help the small frown that tugged at the corner of his lips when the captain reassured him that he wasn’t going to get his ass chewed out, something that would have been great to hear and the divine feeling of getting away with figurative murder should have washed across him. Though no, all he felt was a twinge of indignation and that sullen bitterness that one should have outgrown after their broody teenage years had come and gone.<br/><br/><br/>His new partner? Joe’s chair wasn’t even cold yet and they already found a new replacement for him? He knew he was going to have to get used to the idea that he was going to have to pair up with someone else.  There was no way in hell they were going to let him work a case on his own. All about that safety in numbers of human evolutionary instincts and all that jazz, and that lovely red tape that was called protocol. Though this soon after Joe was out of the precinct? From what he’s witnessed in his time in homicide when someone retired or quite it took a while to get someone with the right qualifications to be placed in homicide. Hell, Caprey before she got the massive wall of muscles and good nature, they had to loan out a couple of detectives for special victims and Bombsquad to fill in the space while she worked until they found someone qualified. That took a month at the least. Though it’s hardly a day and he has a new partner ready to go?<br/><br/><br/>That was odd.<br/><br/><br/>Though maybe he was just being paranoid? It was completely normal to be a little paranoid. This job made you paranoid. It was the job.<br/><br/><br/>This announcement made Cam look the blond over again. The gaze taking an analyzing edge. A sharp edge that was at war with the friendly smile that the black-haired man plastered on his lips, trying to push back at the uncomfortable grimace that wanted to pull at that boyish charm and twist it into the discomfort of a man who was used to a certain way. He didn’t have his anchor of a man who ushered him through his off days. The days where that friendly glint was gone and that mischief turned into something a bit more toxic. Change, Cam knew he had to adjust to change. Didn’t mean he had to be excited about it.<br/><br/>He took in his features yet again a sharpness beneath such soft features. He looked even less the harden detective then he did. He was attractive, he admitted to himself,  actually, if he was being really honest with himself, he was probably in the top ten of the most attractive people he’s met in person. He knew he had no right to judge how a proper detective should look. He was shorter than a large number of his coworkers, he compensated for his hight in this job by a fine layer of defined muscle. Nothing obscenely bulging, but more athletic, sculpted, firmly built. He made sure he could pack a punch, take one too if he didn’t have to tackle some poor fool to the ground. He wasn’t intimidating, but he sure as hell didn’t need to be, boyish charm got him a long way so far. Or at least that’s what he liked to call it.<br/><br/><br/>Though this man? He was lean, tall, if it wasn’t for that air of confidence that he held as if he owned the space in which he sat with those long legs crossed in a certain grace that belonged more to a dancer in his mind then a man who was supposed to uphold the law, he didn’t seem intimidating. Joe was well aged, but he could still use his large frame to loom in that intimidating way he always seemed to lumber about with. Joe was one of those old fashion Noir stereotypes at times. He fit almost every criterion for one of those hard-boiled detective stereotype. This man? Part of him was concerned if he could handle himself when things got a little rough.<br/><br/><br/>Camren let that unease, maybe it could even be called worry, sit like an iron weight in his gut as he held up that boyish grin as he offered his hand to shake the seated man’s own. “Camren Murphy.” He greeted, before breaking his gaze away to look to his Captain. It was good to hear he was going to write off the paperwork for the case shift. That was at least one pain in the ass out of the way, paperwork was far from his favorite part of his job.  “Thank you, sir, I’ll bring him up to speed.” He nodded, putting his hands in his slack’s pockets. With a nod to his superior, he cocked his head towards the door as he turned back to his new partner. “Come on, I’ll give you the grand tour.”<br/><br/>The detective held the door open for the blond before he leads the way down the short hallway, opening the door, a repeat of holding the door for him popped up again. Something the black-haired man seemed hardly aware of he was doing so as he motions to a wide open space on the other side. Desks strewed about the place, grouped in two’s spread throughout the area. “This is the bull pit, no idea whose bright idea it was to call it that, but here we are.” He shrugged, leading him over to a couple of desks nearest to the far windows, the view out partially blocked by shrubbery. Most stations he realized had offices for detectives instead of shared space as this was, though he couldn’t complain, it wasn’t like he was used to privacy. Though when the winter chill was in full swing it seemed to creep through the window pane. Camren adjusting the placement of one of the three picture frames on his desk before he patted the desk across from it that was now officially devoid of any personal effect. The sight made a small frown pull down on the corner of his lips as he added. “This is going to be your desk.” He plucking up the small brass key off the desktop, passing it to Andreas. “Though I wouldn’t put anything in that bottom left draw. It sticks.” He wasn’t going to mention the reason it sticks was that he put a few firecrackers in there and apparently tiny explosives were not a good thing for confined spaces. Also that maybe two rows of them might have been overkill. Joe never was able to figure out how to jam that one bit of metal that bent back into place where the drawer would stop catching. In retrospect? Not his best prank and probably a little too mean-spirited at the time.<br/><br/><br/>“You already figured out your way to the captain's office. We share this building with Special Victims and Major case. SVU has the space upstairs while Major Case is down in our little piece of paradise here with homicide. As you can guess when it’s slow we get loaned out to the other divisions.” He explained as he opened up another glass windowed door, walking past a few other detectives standing by a water cooler as he pointed at a couple of doors, small plaques on them labeling them by number in kakie painted hall, windowless doors sprinkled throughout. “This here is the interview rooms. Down the hall is the break room, which houses the most god-awful coffee you will find this side of hell.” He snorted, his nose wrinkling in obvious disgust. “Seriously, just don’t drink that stuff unless you are desperate, and even then fucking tell me so I can talk you out of it. I am not above stomping through a blizzard to save someone from a toxic cup of coffee.” How the fuck Joe drank that shit every day was beyond him. Even more so how it was both sludge like while still being gritty no matter what brand you put in that machine.<br/><br/><br/>One of these days someone on caffeine withdrawal was sure to shoot it and get carried out on the shoulders of the other desperate souls.<br/><br/><br/>Or maybe that was just some wet fantasy of his.<br/><br/><br/>It was a good one.<br/><br/><br/>He walked to another door labeled stairs on a tiny brown plaque mounted by the door. “Downstairs, we have the morgue, evidence lock up and a pretty decent forensics lab.” Thinking about his earlier treck down there brought that smile back to his lips. “Not the friendliest bunch, just watch the blond. Her aim sucks.”  He added though it was mostly colored by his antagonistic whatever with the short blond woman. “And upstairs we also have the armory and filing room.” He added, before jabbing his thumb at the stairs.<br/><br/><br/>“Though you’ll have to take the stairs, no ones fixed the elevator in the last year.” He added, glancing down the hall at the closed silver door. He ushered the blond man once more in the direction they had come from, a gentle push to his back as if he was urged to keep this tour going as quickly as he could. In a way he likely was. There was an open case on his desk and he wasn’t working on it. back through the pit, dodging around a rather ambitious man who was carrying two filing boxes taller than his line of sight. “Careful Thomas! Try not to knock out the new guy, huh?” He called, clearly taking a little joy in the other man nearly tripping over his own feet in an attempt to dodge a person he couldn’t see through the wall of cardboard and paper. The only thing keeping the papers from scattering everywhere was the fact that the box fell on a desk with a  clatter, nearly knocking the keyboard off the desk all together.<br/><br/><br/>He leads the other man to another door holding it open as he leads him to another door that had the word Men beside it. He opened it to reveal a room with benches lining down the middle of aisles that had lockers mounted on either side, a long, blind corner wall lead to a tiled floor. “This is the locker room, showers are just past the wall over there.” He said curtly, “Your locker is twenty-four, though you’ll need to get your own lock.” He added, before pointing down the hall to another door. “That’s the bunkhouse, so to speak if you find yourself here and need to crash that’s where some of us sleep.” before leading him back out as he pointed at the door down the hall. “That leads out where we keep the station vehicles.” This lead to him finishing with bringing him back out to the pit, pointing to a door on the opposite end of the hall. “That’s the back way to temporary lock-up, the main entrance is through the main way is near the entrance, next to reception.” He said, with a nod of his head. “And that’s it, the bathroom isn’t hard to find and you probably saw the parking lot on your way in.” He said, walking with purpose back to his desk before he turned on his heels to lean on his desk, as he picked up the agitatingly thin folder on his desk.<br/><br/><br/>The thick paper held between his fingers, he looks at it with a small scowl, leaning back a little more as he placed his hand on the desk, before holding it out to Evens. “This is our case.” He sighed. “Capery didn’t gather up much before she passed it off. Forensics is a dead end.” He said it in such a way as if the lack of evidence had personally kicked his cat. “I haven’t had the time to look over the scene myself, same for the body.” He went on, once his hand was free, he raking his fingers through his hair, chewing absently on his lower lip. “I’ve started work on a profile from the pictures, but I’m not finalizing it until I look at a few more things.” He going right back to abusing his poor lip before he without notice adjusted one of his frames. Two of the three holding his criminal justice and psychology diplomas, the one in between was a family photo.<br/><br/><br/>Cam clad in an ironically ugly Christmas sweater, his arm around a young woman who couldn’t be older than sixteen that shared his nose and dark hair, while the man that stood a good three heads taller then him had his arm around his neck in a loose similar to a choke hold, they shared the same eyes and jaw, his hair matched the tall, woman behind the three, wearing glasses as her ambur hair fell in curls over her shoulder, held in place by a green scrunchy, while a man not much taller than Cam, a man clearly his father, if it wasn’t for the nose, the no nonsense close cut black hair and the rough lines of age that tugged at the older mans features they would look almost earily similar. It was from a year ago, it had been his sister's idea for the family to take an ugly sweater Christmas photo. The whole reason Cam insisted on getting a copy and framing it was for the fact that his mother had gotten his dad to put on one of those felt reindeer antler headbands on. He nearly died when his mother showed that his father’s Rudolph sweater lit up. It was so worth the look of murder in his father’s eyes.<br/><br/><br/>It was at this moment the dark haired man realized he had been talking far more than his fair share, a bit of color tinging his cheeks before he added in an embarrassed rush. “You, got any questions?”