"A right shame," James tutted sadly, crossing his arms and shifting his weight from the balls of his feet to his toes and back again, "I could've used one today." He glanced over to Alexandra and gave her a slight smile. "Statements are the most rousing of them all, are there not? Nothing more attention-grabbing than pure, unadulterated fact." James was keen, and liked to play with words. Maybe he liked to play a bit too much, as his mouth often moved faster than his mind, or faster than other people would like.<br/><br/>"Of course I'll be here, sir," James said to Claude in a dutiful, puppy-like sort of way, accompanied by a mock salute, "where else would I be?"<span style="font-style: italic">Not at home,</span>James thought,<span style="font-style: italic">not for a while.</span>He hoped that he would get on his bike that night, take a jolly ride through town, and arrive at home, with everything in perfect order. Mom and dad would be happy and in love, Bev would smile more, Addie wouldn't have nightmares. The fridge would be full, and that leak in the roof would be gone forever. It was a stupid hope, that kind that rested on your heart even if you knew it couldn't ever be true.<br/><br/>James was startled suddenly by Tommy's comment, heart skipping a beat in surprise. Had the man really read his mind? He had just been thinking of the drink test like a game. It was another coincidence, like all the other coincidences before when Tommy seemed to have commented on things James was thinking about. Tommy was just good at reading people like that. And yet, against his better conscience, Jame couldn't help but believe. Maybe a little more than most, because, after all, Tommy had been the key in finding Addie, and all those girls. That couldn't have been just some massive coincidence.<br/><br/>Of all the police death reports James had looked at and filed, since as the rookie at the agency he handled most of the boring paperwork, he had never seen one made for someone he knew. James understood why the report hadn't come to his hands yet. Alexandra wanted to keep it close. He could understand that. He watched as Alexandra, overwhelmed, left the room. She was such a strong, proud person that James assumed she had excused herself to cry, away from the eyes of everyone.<br/><br/>Then Bert pulled out the autopsy. James could feel that air grow a little thicker as he retrieved a brown folder from his briefcase. It looked just like any report, but this one was different.<br/><br/>The atmosphere changed just as quickly as it had descended, the tension broken by Bert's crass joke. James hid a snort of laughter as a cough, then quickly perked up. "I want to go," he said, "to see... Mr. Silverman, I mean." Just like Bert, he stiffly avoided the impersonal term of 'body'. "I can handle it,"<span style="font-style: italic">I need to be able to handle it,</span>"and I can learn from Evelyn. I can't just be the coffee-boy forever." It seemed everyone was letting their inner thoughts out tonight. James bit his tongue out of slight regret. He wasn't one to complain about his lack of real work, but hell, he'd been here for long enough to be given even the chance to learn.