Beau should have treated this as a serious affair; he should have showed up early and well-dressed and serious-faced, should have filled out all the required paperwork in advance. He didn't. Maybe Eli had been lax, or maybe Eli had been just as frustrated by the attitude as Will would be, but Beau instead showed up almost twenty minutes later, in his pajamas, with his hair unwashed and a phone in hand.
Will made a show of checking the big watch on his wrist as Beau finally ambled into the station. He'd been waiting, hadn't had much of a choice about it, and was rather obviously unhappy with not only the delay, but the sorry state of the younger man that he'd been assigned to keep tabs on. "Oh, finally dragged your sorry ass out of bed, hmm? So glad you could take the time out of your busy schedule to stop into your court mandated check-ins." By the end of it the cheery sarcasm held an edge.
Beau had a way of speaking that was casually dismissive, like no one else mattered a lick. He employed it as he took his seat, stretching his legs out in front of him. Even in the still-warm weather, he had on long sleeves, pulled around his hands. "What, did you have something better to do with your time?"
"More important than dealing with you?" Sandy brows arched. "Literally anything else on my roster today," he deadpanned, turning his attention down to his desk and the paper work on it. Skimming the file that'd been passed into his care from Eli's. "I'm sure I don't need to go over why you're here or what's going to happen, so why don't we just cut to the chase?"
Beau made a sound, scratching at his wrist through the shirt -- unintentional, surely, it broke some of the indifference of his attitude. "So I can go home? Sounds good."
"No." Pale eyes flicked up to his hands, watching as he scratched through his shirt, and there was the smallest upward tick to his lips on one side. "Pull your sleeves up and lay your arms on the desk, wrists up."
A moment's pause, assessing, chewing it over -- and then slowly he leaned forward, shoving up the sleeves of his shirt to put the tattoos on display. They were shockingly irritated, red around the edges as he spread his hands, an eyebrow raised at Will.
Will folded his arms on the desk and leaned forward, tapping the end of a pencil against the front of the file folder before he touched the tip to one of the overly irritated tattoos. "Have you been trying to scratch these off? I'm sorry to inform you, it doesn't work that way."
"I think I'm allergic." He said it blandly, neither a yes or no, and met Will's eyes easily. He looked perfectly comfortable, leaning in on the desk.
"How unfortunate for you," he countered dryly, putting the pencil down and leaning back so he could pull a small medallion from his desk drawer.
Beau stretched his hands out, head cocked as he considered the tattoos. To be fair to him, it didn't look like he'd tried to scratch them off; it did have that puffy allergy feel. Or infection, perhaps. "If my hands fall off, it's on you. You know how much my hands are worth?"
"Not much anymore," he answered easily, not skipping a beat, turning the medallion in gloved fingers before pressing it into Beau's palm. Cool and benign, just another piece of worn metal.
His hand twitched around it reflexively, halfway closing, and his mouth followed suit, halfway to a humorless smile. "Still more than yours."
He made a soft humorous huff, drawing the medallion up off his hand by the silver chain. "I wouldn't bet on that anymore."
Beau wiggles his fingers and the smile solidified, without humor or cheer. "I would. Until they fall off and y'all pay for them."
He tucked the medallion away again before pulling out an instrument that looked vaguely like a barcode scanner but sleeker, thinner. "The entire point of those tattoos is to knock you down to magicless, and if you're getting around that somehow, we'll know, and fix it."
"If I were getting around it I'd look like a supermodel, not like Joaquim Phoenix." It was breezy, wiggling his fingers as he looked up at Will.
"Mmhmm." He pressed a button on the scanner, gaze on the little read-out rather than looking at Beau. After a moment he swept the business end of the thing over the tattoos.
"Not that Joaquim Phoenix is a bad look, mind." He said it chidingly, like that was Will's line and he'd just missed it.
He appeared to be ignoring him, at least mostly. Brows arched, lips twisted up on one side like maybe he was thinking that over, or maybe he was just reading the scanner.
Beau's eyes lingered on his face, steady and narrow, and after a long moment he made a rude raspberry at Will.
His eyes flicked up in a flat look, the arch of his brows incredulous. "Did Eli indulge you?"
By the time Will looked up, his expression was bland and cool again. "Most people indulge me."
It was the answer he'd been expecting. Will clicked his tongue as he put the scanner away and then sat back in his chair, hands folded together on the desk. "You won't find any influence here."
He shrugged just a tiny bit, with a cool smile on his face as he watched Will's face. "Sure, if you say so."
He was effectively ignoring the other man's smile, like it just didn't exist. "Next time your required to check in you should try exercising being punctual. Think of this like probation, and your continued remaining freedoms hinge on proving you're no longer a threat to anyone or anything."
"And what'll you do if I'm late?" He was still sprawled out on the desk, wrists up -- the position Will had put him in, but he made it look casual, easy.
Will glanced down at Beau's arms before looking back across the desk. "Increase these check-ins to a bi-weekly basis, or weekly." That would depend entirely on level of disregard shown. "As a start."
Beau smiled at him again, an eyebrow raised -- it was easily mocking, his head cocked to the side. "Ah. Trying to manufacture reasons to see me more already?"
Hands folded on the desk again as he leveled a bored look at the younger man. "Oh yes, the unkempt deadbeat aesthetic is my thing" His gaze flicked up and down what he could see of Beau, lingering on the pajama bottoms and the unwashed hair, and his lip curled just a touch on one side.
"You're not alone in that." He said it very earnestly, even if his eyes had gone flat and unfriendly. "Don't need to be embarrassed."
He answered that with a very cool little smile. "I don't think it's me that has anything to be embarrassed about." Barbed and condescending
"Well don't worry about me, I've never been embarrassed a day in my life." He spread his fingers again, attention finally dropped to his wrists. Calculating. "You could at least shell out for some cream, though."
"Maybe you should start," he retorted blithely, drumming his fingertips along the top of the file. "And I'm sure you've got the money to pick up a bit of soothing cream from the CVS down the street."
"Ah, but I don't know how the magic works, or what it is that's irritating me." He looked up at Will again, then, all at once. "Don't you have someone talented I could talk to?"
Well rolled his eyes, like he didn't quite believe there was an actual issue, and held his hand out across the desk, black glove pulled up tight.
"What, do you have hidden talents?" His eyes flicked down to the glove, then back up to Will's face. After a breath, he stretched his arm out.
He didn't answer, just looked back at him before curling his fingers around Beau's wrist to draw his hand closer to give the irritated tattoos a more thorough look. Then he frowned, brows narrowing slightly as he looked up. "Have you been trying to perform magic?"
He blinked at Will somewhat lazily -- his skin hot in Will's hands, angry and irritated. "The tattoos put a damper on that, I'd say."
"Keeps you from pulling it off, not from trying." He rolled his eyes up to Beau's face, like he was already tired of the bullshitting.
There was a little breath of hesitation, the first real crack in his don't give a shit about anything facade, and when he answered it was bland. "Some habits are hard to break."
He'd get a thought so look back in response, and Will let his arm go. "It's irritated because you keep trying to fight the magic in place. Stop trying to skirt around your punishment and it'll stop being irritated."
He made a sound as he leaned back, stretching out his fingers and narrowing his eyes a bit. "Are you a smoker?"
Sandy brows rose, his head tipping slightly to one side. "No."
"Never?" He rubbed a thumb up the heel of his hand, stretching out long fingers.
He exhaled heavily, not sure where this was headed and already bored by it. "No."
"What a waste of a life." Beau let it go, just watching him across the desk, head cocked. "Are you satisfied I'm still shackled?"
The utter irony Will found in that statement brought a very unpleasant smile to his lips. "Yes, you're free to go." He turned to lift his jacket off the back of his chair, standing. "And be here on time next month."
"Doubtful." He said it easily, comfortably, as he stood himself -- and stretched, slowly, the soft fabric of his shirt riding up as he did, the movement lazily (and probably unintentionally) flirtatious. "Unless you want to swing by my place."
He flicked a glance at him as he stretched before giving a very definitive, "Pass." Sliding his arms into the Navy jacket to shrug it into place.
He made an amused noise in response, tugging the sleeves of his hoodie down into place and shrugging at Will. "Your loss."
"I doubt it," he tossed back blithely, looking up again finally as he slid his fingers together to make sure the gloves stayed in place.
Beau just blew him a kiss in reply and left, off to whatever important tasks he'd been doing that made him late. Probably, sleeping.
Will didn't bother with a response other than to usher him out so he could close the door behind him. He, unlike some, had actual work to do.
----
It was only a week and a half, though, before Will would be called in again -- probably wishing that Eli had held onto this particular job -- to run an interview on Beau. In the hospital.
He didn't hurry. Instead he finished up a bit of paperwork at the station before heading down to the hospital, and even there he took a moment or two to chat up one of the pretty nurses before finally making his way down to Beau's room. A single, of course. His suit today was a pale, cool grey that made his eyes stand out, and the look on his face when he came to stand at the foot of the bed was just as chilly as a winter morning. He tucked his jacket back as he rested his hands on his hips. "This is a little bit sad even for you, don't you think?"
Private medicine was incredible, and here, his parents had been willing to shell out. Beau looked actively like shit now, yellow around the edges, his hair gone flat and limp around his face, his wrists thin and tender. He blinked up at Will in an uncomprehending way, like he didn't remember who he was for the moment.
He just waited, brows arched and lips drawn back in a tight, irritated line.
Maybe it clicked; some spark lit his eyes again, stole away the exhaustion. He tipped his head as he looked Will over, voice hoarse. "Sorry, can I help you?"
"Oh has no one bothered to let you know I was swinging by?" It was impatient, unsympathetic. "I'm here because you've violated your parole." There was maybe a little something there, like to him it'd only been a matter of time before Beau Eastoft fucked up again.
"Ah, I remember you now." No, he'd definitely remembered Will before, but saying it made him roll his shoulders and relax a smidge, eyes closing. "Eli's still off?"
"Eli will no longer be handling your case," he answered easily, almost happily.
"Uh huh." He didn't sound convinced. But then, probably, his father could talk to someone and get it fixed -- if he was willing. If beau hadn't burned too many bridges. "And Jed? How's he doing?"
"Don't you worry about him." His expression have nothing away. "You've got enough to worry about on your own."
"What, are you going to put me in jail?" He didn't even open his eyes as he said it.
"Funny you should say that," he tossed back airily.
He held his wrists up, then, even as he yawned -- the IV dangling from one hand and his wrists still incredibly sore. "Take me away, then."
"What are you going to do when daddy decides you're not worth bailing out anymore?" It was cold, definitely inappropriate, but he just didn't have the patience for it.
"Kill myself, obviously." He cracked an eye, then, and smiled at Will. But, actually, maybe it wasn't a joke. It was hard to tell.
"Fuckin' waste." It wasn't the first thing that'd popped into his head, not even the second. "So that what’ this is?"
"Just a mistake." He rolled a hand, vaguely, closing his eyes again -- and smoothed hair shakily off his forehead. "I guess they're serious about not mixing with alcohol."
It looked like maybe Will didn't believe him, but it might just have been the lingering contempt he held for the younger man. "Where'd you get the pills?"
He rumbled just a little bit, hand sprawled across his face. "Bathroom cabinet."
"Are they yours?" Tone implied he suspected he knew the answer.
Beau just snorted at that, dropping his arm again at last.
"I'll take that as a no." He huffed and irritated sigh. If it were up to him he'd have Beau tossed in lock up for a while. Or a halfway house at the very least.
It probably would have been healthier for him, too, than the current address. He shrugged a tiny bit, wiggling his fingers again. "You could talk to the doctors about taking away my jello."
He had a thoughtful expression on his face before Beau's comment pulled his attention back to him. "I'm upping your check-ins to once a week."
That got his attention at least, sharp, eyes open. Got under his skin, annoyed. "Really? Petty."
"We work with what we have," he answer easily, shoulders rolling in a shrug. "Besides, by the looks of your wrists you've been going all out trying to get those marks off, that's reason enough to insist you come in more frequently."
His eyes flicked down to them and then he shifted to put his hands under the blankets, huffing out a breath. "I haven't."
"Really?" Amused disbelief. "That red skin says otherwise. Either your doing it, or you're getting someone to help you."
His fingers twitched, the start of an aborted gesture, and a muscle jumped in his jaw. "It's only been a few months. Like I said, habits are hard to break."
"So's that magic." He nodded towards his hands, smiling benignly now. "You get those off and I’ll be very impressed."
"Oh? What would I win." He smoothed his fingertips together.
"Another round under the needle and a trip to prison." It was almost cheerful, almost a challenge.
"Tempting. Could they be on my face, this time?" He raised both eyebrows, slowly. "My father would love that."
"Face, hands, arms, legs," he waved a hand as he said it, the joke over. "All over."
"All over?" He looked up at Will,tipping his hand palm up instead. "There are definitely career prospects in that."
He folded his arms loosely. "I'm glad to see you're doing so well, that means you should have no reason to miss your next check in on Thursday. I think that'll be the perfect time to go over the amendments to your parole agreement."
He puffed out a little breath, at that, mulling it over. "If I'm out."
"I'll talk to your doctor, see if there's reason why you shouldn't be, and make arrangements accordingly." It sounded so helpful.
"You're sure you don't want to swing around mine?" He spoke slowly, a bit slyly. "I have proper food."
Will looked down at him, either actually considering it or just making a show of it before pulling a face, unimpressed. "Thanks again, but pass."
He made a rude sound again, waving that off. "Might not get released back into my own care anyway. Because obviously the smarter solution is to release me into the house where it happened."
