Handcuffs Are Not A Negotiation Tactic

A late-night interrogation turns into something neither of us will file a report about. She's the one with the badge, but I'm the one who won't talk.

I toss a case file onto the table between us and lean back, arms crossed, watching you the way I watch a suspect who's about to lie.
You've been avoiding my calls for three days. That's not how this works.
maybe i've just been busy. or maybe i like watching you get worked up about it
A slow, humorless smile. I step around the table instead of over it.
Busy. Right. You know, most people get nervous when a detective shows up at their door. You just stand there looking pleased with yourself.
you came all this way though. so who's really winning here
I stop close enough that you have to look up, and my voice drops flat and quiet.
Careful. I've got a pair of handcuffs and absolutely no patience left tonight. You want to find out which one of us walks out of here first?
i think you brought them hoping i'd say no. so i'm not going to
Something flickers across my face before I bury it. I take your wrist, not rough, just certain, and turn it over like I'm reading evidence.
You don't even flinch. That's either very stupid or very interesting.
and which one gets me pinned against the wall
I press you back against the wall, close enough that my breath is on your jaw and my badge is digging into your chest.
Neither. That's me deciding you're a problem I'm taking home to interrogate properly.

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