[center][hr][url=https://fontmeme.com/cool-fonts/][img]https://fontmeme.com/permalink/171210/ec82ff83bed1b5364f94dab3b09e89f3.png[/img][/url][hr][color=B22222][h3]Centre Point - Friday Evening[/h3]
[sup][@Pilatus][/sup][/color][hr][/center]After a decade or two of service, you start to get it. You start to get how to be a police officer, what it takes to uphold the law and how to get there. It wasn't always pretty, especially for undercover cops like him but then again, what job didn't have their downsides? It was just that this job could end up with you dead on the streets, choking on your own blood. He was a serial pessimist so maybe he was exaggerating things but he liked to imagine himself as a realist. And as a realist cop who's been in the game for more than a few years, you know when someone was good at what they do. Whether that someone was a drug dealer, an artist, a serial killer or another officer, you learn how to evaluate people on the fly. It would be that evaluation that could save someone in a dangerous situation. Or help assess a situation as high risk or not. After a while, you start to do it subconsciously. Now, call him judgemental or rude but it was a necessary skill that you needed for the field. It came with a built-in warning system and right now, the sirens were blaring in his head. 

Jamal watched from the corner of his eye as people slowly departed the bar area. People were approached by a waiter who looked a little unnerved. With confused faces, people politely left as discreetly as possible. Well, as discreetly as civilians can be. There was always that one person who ruined it for everyone. A couple packed their things a little [i]too[/i] fast, especially when it seemed like they were in the middle of conversing. It was painfully obvious that something was going on. Looking around for the perpetrators, his eyes landed on one man and one woman slowly moving their way through the crowd towards him. Ah. The marshals. If his sirens were blaring a few seconds ago, they were going crazy now. He didn't need a US marshal all up in his business and almost made to leave. He paused however, figuring out that the pair would just corner him somewhere else. Somewhere less private, where they could ask a whole lot of uncomfortable questions. He did not need his cover blown. It only took one extra person to know his secret for the whole operation to go bust.

So instead, the officer got comfortable and ordered another warm beer. He made sure to ease into this one, trying to play the part of a cool gangster rather than a worried cop. He was getting too old for this shit. He smiled devilishly at the bartender, intimidating the poor underpaid man. He noticed the female marshal sit in a stool a ways away from him, ordering a drink at the bar. 

"Long night, huh soldier?"

The gangster's smile grew wider, his hand clenching the glass tight. Oh she had no fuckin' idea. [color=IndianRed]"Yeah, y'all could say that missie."[/color] He answered, gesturing towards her partner with his glass. Maybe he was being too aggressive, revealing that he knew the both of them were together. But whatever, might as well give a smart impression on this marshal. He wondered how they'd handle him under his act. He took another sip of his beer, smacking his lips together. He let out a long sigh., keeping his eyes looking in front of him. [color=IndianRed]"So, y'all hookers or somethin'? 'Cause I ain't got no change missie. Especially for the two of you. But of course, I'm always willin' for freebies, if ya get me. Don't try and steal from me though, I know how this works. Don't  wanna break that pretty face of yours."[/color] He turned, grinning at the woman next to him.

He was gonna have some fun with this one.