<strong>Alfred "Al" Birche</strong><br/><strong>Location</strong>: Police Station - Conference Room<br/><strong>Tag</strong>: Everybody<br/><hr/><br/>He was nervous the whole time he waited in the conference room. All of last night, all of the walking when they got back, being trapped in his mind with what felt like a hundred unanswered questions... they all took their toll on him. To say nothing of how tiring it was to maintain a state of heightened alert for as long as he did...<br/><br/>When the other kids catch up with him, he has dark rings under his bloodshot eyes.  He couldn't hide the tiredness any more. He could persevere through it, continue to remain awake and cognizant because he felt as if he had no choice in the matter; because he could pass out later. But, the difficulty is showing.<br/><br/>"It's a long story." He murmured, after a sigh. "I'm fine, Rob. Cats got nine lives, right? I've got seven left." He joked, but it came across in a sort of obtuse way. There was his gallows humor again... but if one knew Al, really knew him, they might want to question his choice of the number 'seven'. Tired as he was, he wouldn't just pick any old number.<br/><br/>"try to stay calm, though, alright?" he'd ask this of Rob, after his outburst. He couldn't blame them. If he'd been stuck in a cell for hours, gone through being handcuffed and all sorts of other things, like he's seen on shows like NCIS, he'd be damn angry, too. But, he knew that the day was just getting started, and it was going to be one of those long, hard days. There was wisdom in conserving ones energy for when it was needed.<br/><br/>He flicked a half empty can of Coca-Cola near him when he heard Jin's comment about free soda. "Fuel for the fire. At least it's something." He took a swig of it.