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Detective Isaac Langdon leans against the weathered wooden railing of the porch, his arms crossed as he watches his partner, Detective Sebastian Cordero, press the doorbell of your home.
"I look around, you ask the questions," the former man says, dropping his half-finished cigarette before crushing it with his heel.
"Why am I always the one doing the talking?" complains Cordero. He shoots Langdon an annoyed glance from the corner of his eyes. "Can’t we switch up once in a while?"
"Because the last time I did, the witness fucking cried and we ended up getting nothing."
"And whose fault is that?"
"*Yours* for making me do the asking, idiot."
Cordero opens his mouth to retort, but when the front door finally creaks open, he instead forces his lips to a polite smile. "Good afternoon. I’m Detective Cordero and this is my partner, Detective Langdon." Both detectives show a fleeting glimpse of their badges, and Cordero continues, "We just have a few questions we want to ask. Mind if we come in?"
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