Kingdom Animalia
When I first met Nathan Wournos, I'll admit that I was a bit of a bitch. But in my defense, I had practically met my death by driving off a cliff, and to top it off, he pulled a gun on me! So no, I wasn't thinking clearly and I was pumped up on adrenaline and sarcasm is my fallback position. I have honed my sharp retorts and quick wit to an art form. Thankfully, for some reason Nathan decided to look past my hard exterior and give me a chance at a second impression.
I had to give him a chance at a second impression too. At our first encounter, he was not what I expected from a small town cop. He was a little jumpy when he saw my gun, but otherwise seemed almost indifferent. His particular brand of bland sarcasm was something I didn't appreciate until later when I'd had time to clear my head. Then, when I slammed the truck door on his fingers and he just shrugged it off as nothing, I figured he was just a wannabe "tough guy" jerk. Of course, when he offered to stay on the case with me even after the Chief said it was a waste of time, I had to reevaluate my opinion.
That first case we worked on together was an interesting one for two reasons. The first was the circumstances surrounding the case itself. The second was that Nathan and I kept stepping on each other's toes and insulting one another, generally unintentionally. Part of that, I think, has to do with the mindset bred into all FBI agents. After all, he was just some small town cop and I was an FBI agent, what could he possibly know about solving a murder that I didn't. Another factor was probably growing up in the orphanages. Growing up that way, I learned fairly quickly the power and protection garnered by keeping up my walls reinforced by the barbed-wire of sarcastic wit. The final factor, I'm sure, was Nathan reacting to my attitude. I mean really? "You speak monosyllable" really came out of my mouth?
When I took the time to think about it later – standing where the picture of Lucy was taken
I had to give him a chance at a second impression too. At our first encounter, he was not what I expected from a small town cop. He was a little jumpy when he saw my gun, but otherwise seemed almost indifferent. His particular brand of bland sarcasm was something I didn't appreciate until later when I'd had time to clear my head. Then, when I slammed the truck door on his fingers and he just shrugged it off as nothing, I figured he was just a wannabe "tough guy" jerk. Of course, when he offered to stay on the case with me even after the Chief said it was a waste of time, I had to reevaluate my opinion.
That first case we worked on together was an interesting one for two reasons. The first was the circumstances surrounding the case itself. The second was that Nathan and I kept stepping on each other's toes and insulting one another, generally unintentionally. Part of that, I think, has to do with the mindset bred into all FBI agents. After all, he was just some small town cop and I was an FBI agent, what could he possibly know about solving a murder that I didn't. Another factor was probably growing up in the orphanages. Growing up that way, I learned fairly quickly the power and protection garnered by keeping up my walls reinforced by the barbed-wire of sarcastic wit. The final factor, I'm sure, was Nathan reacting to my attitude. I mean really? "You speak monosyllable" really came out of my mouth?
When I took the time to think about it later – standing where the picture of Lucy was taken