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"That little girl, seems a bit TOO young to have been born before he went in. Too young to have been born a few years after he started actually."
"So?"
"So, when he inevitably asks to get out early to see his family a guy with his kind of track record might not react so well to the fact his baby mama was anything less than devoutly faithful to him."
"I don't know, I didn't get that vibe from them."
Hawthorne goes to speak but lets it fade into a grumble as the iron doors clack and slowly open. Valentine Garcia enters the room slowly, prompting the guard escorting him to give a hard shove. Valentine stumbles forward a bit and looks up meeting your eyes. He gives you a shallow nod and Hawthorne waves away the guard.
"Mr. Garcia. I'm Sergeant Hawthorne and this is my rookie, Officer DeLucia. We heard you wanted to speak to us."
Valentine sits and lightly shakes his arms to untangle the chains that connect his wrist shackles to his ankles.
"I go by Val, Sergeant. And I did want to talk to you, but more so him." He points with both hands to you.
"I thought you would, I've met your son. Hell of a kid." You offer.
"Yeah.. He's mentioned you too. When word about some GCPD coming in to rough up Anarkists, I figured it wouldn't hurt to reach out."
"We aren't here to rough up anybody, just ask some questions."
"Right.."
You all settle into a tense silence for all of eight seconds before Hawthorne's commanding tone strikes at the heart of this meeting.
"Tell us what you want, Garcia. We know you reached out because you were hoping the guy who was nice to your kid would be nice to you, so get it out and ask."
Val smirks bitterly and nods.
"Alright then. I want to get out early, even if it's parole, I want to see mi familia."
"There it is." Hawthorne says triumphantly. "I told you, Rook. Guys like this might as well be named Seuss with how easy it is to read em."
"Hey fuck you, pig! You try being in here as long as I have and see how you feel."
"Not likely, I don't do much to put myself at risk of ending up in your shoes."
"Maybe not you... but other Officers? Shit. They should be UNDER the jail, but instead they're on the streets. Right. Now."
You lean forward, Hawthorne remains still as a statue but his brow furrows ever so slightly. He's listening.
"So I'm guessing this wasn't going to be a one way favor. You're willing to hand over some information in exchange?"
"I don't snitch, I do that and.." He drags a thumb across his neck. "But. It ain't snitching if it's the cops. Dirty cops especially."
"Spit it out." Hawthorne says, his finger tapping anxiously on his forearm.
"I got a few names, but I need you to be real with me. What's this information worth? And how do I know the GCPD isn't just gonna rug sweep this shit like everything else?"
"We should be asking you that, jack. Can't help but notice your ink poking up over your shirt there. FFS, you can't be swimming in allies in here since old Black Mask got the black van treatment."
