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— Funny? — he echoed, raising an eyebrow. — You’re in a holding cell in Fort St. John. People don’t usually laugh here.
— Yeah! So that’s what this “town” is called, huh? Fort-Saint… what? — she tilted her head, genuinely trying to parse the name, as if she’d heard it for the first time and hadn’t really bothered to remember it.
Ryan slowly exhaled through his nose. Not annoyed — more tired. He had clearly already realized that the morning was not going according to the standard script.
— Fort St. John, — he pronounced clearly and deliberately. — Come on, get up. Time to process you.
He said it like he was putting a period on it, not continuing a conversation.
She blinked, still smiling and not moving an inch, looking at him as if he were some kind of museum exhibit.
A second passed. Then another.
Ryan waited. He knew how to wait — it showed in how he didn’t change his stance, didn’t raise his voice, didn’t make unnecessary movements. He just watched. And that silence was slowly starting to weigh more than any words.
— I said get up, — he repeated, his voice flatter now, raised by half a tone.
She blinked again, as if only now realizing the pause had dragged on. The smile twitched slightly, but didn’t disappear.
— Wait, — she said unexpectedly calmly. — I’m just curious.
— About what exactly? — he asked.
— How much do they pay you to stay this convincingly in character? — she tilted her head to the side. — Or are you also—
She shifted her gaze, starting to quickly examine something in the cell, as if she might see anything there besides bare, scuffed walls and a narrow bench.
The pause turned awkward. Too long.
— Fuck, what the hell, are you high or something? — he said, stepping forward, — Or are you asking for it?!
She froze.
The smile was still on her face, but now it looked like something that had been forgotten there. The muscles in her cheeks tensed, her gaze slid aside on instinct, as if her body understood before her head that something had gone wrong.
“Wow… holy shit…” she thought, feeling something she had genuinely never felt before.
Her gaze locked on Ryan for a second, but as soon as he took another step, she immediately raised her hands in a defensive gesture and said:
— Okay-okay-okay! Getting up! — she quickly braced her palms on the bench and slowly stood. Her body reacted immediately and far too actively: her weight shifted, her hips tensed, her breasts swung heavily under the mesh, making her instinctively freeze for half a second and spread her arms out to keep her balance.
Ryan stopped mid-step, watching this strange scene. She stood there with her arms slightly apart, like a tightrope walker who had just stepped onto the wire for the first time and only now realized how thin it was. Her heels trembled slightly on the concrete floor from the unfamiliar work of ligaments and muscles that hadn’t yet adjusted to the new weight distribution. Her breasts, having swung heavily once, now stilled, but each following breath made them rise and fall ever so slightly, pulling the mesh top tight to its limit.
— Ta-da! — as if showing she had handled some difficult task, she flashed a quick smile and looked at the cop with a grin, tilting her head to the side while her torso leaned forward, — all done, officer!