Fifteen years later.
Sunlight from a single, high-barred window cut a sharp, dusty rectangle across the sterile interrogation room. The room was small, the cinderblock walls painted a dull, antiseptic green. It smelled faintly of old coffee and bleach. A naked lightbulb hung from a wire in the ceiling, unlit, overshadowed by the natural light.
Julian, now twenty-five, sat composed and still at the cheap metal table. Opposite him sat Cruz, a man in his twenties wearing a lazy grin like a mask.
Julian leaned forward. "Are you sure you don't want coffee?"
Cruz shrugged. "Nope."
Julian smiled to himself, a short, private one. "Alright! Let's begin. What's your name?"
Cruz looked up. "Cruz."
"Full name."
Cruz looked pissed. "Cruz Lind."
Upon hearing it, Julian chuckled, a visible, soundless laugh that shook his shoulders. Cruz noticed it.
"What's so funny, mister?"
Julian stopped chuckling, but the smile never left his face. He cleared his throat. "Uh—sorry. It's nothing."
A beat of silence passed.
"My name's Julian, by the way," Julian offered.
Cruz raised an eyebrow. "Julian what?"
Julian's own eyebrow went up, his smile intact. "Oh, none of your business."
Cruz's grin returned, and he let out a laugh. "You don't have a last name? Your mother's a whore or something?"
A pause. Julian wasn't expecting it, but he still laughed. "Mother jokes in 2025? Ew, dude."
Cruz grinned, laughing with him. "What? Did I hit a nerve or something? Too close?"
Julian chuckled. Cruz chuckled. In between the laughs, Julian spoke. "Ah, dude, I must tell you, please do hope that you end up in jail."
Cruz, still laughing, raised an eyebrow. "Why?"
Julian leaned forward until their faces were inches apart, his smile slowly dissolving, his expression becoming serious. His voice dropped. "Because if by any chance you are free, I'll fuck you like a dog."
Cruz was taken aback. His grin vanished, the laugh dying in his throat as seriousness—and a flicker of fear—replaced it. He physically moved back, away from Julian. His eyes widened.
Cruz tried to speak, attempting to assert dominance but failing spectacularly. "Are you trying to scare me?" he blustered, his voice shaking. "I got Vega behind me."
Julian shrugged, leaning back. "Who's Vega?"
Cruz didn't answer.
The door burst open, and a woman in her thirties entered. She was wearing a sharp professional dress, her hair spread free. She looked at Julian, then at Cruz, then back at Julian, her eyes taking in the scene.
"I hope you didn't pressure my client," she said. Before Julian could answer, she turned on Cruz. "I hope you didn't reveal anything."
Cruz just looked at her, dumbfounded.
Alina sighed. "You do know that you have the right to remain silent, right?"
No answer from Cruz.
Julian chuckled. He slowly got up, walked towards the door, opened it, and left.
---
Julian sat on a hard, wooden bench just outside the interrogation room, checking his watch. The corridor was empty, a long, quiet hall lit by the unsteady hum of fluorescent lights. The beige-tiled floor was buffed to a dull shine.
A few moments later, the door opened. Alina walked out as a few uniformed officers went in to deal with Cruz. She sat down on the bench beside Julian.
"Emma Stone is a two-time Oscar winner," Julian murmured, his voice low.
Alina heard it. She turned to Julian, raising her eyebrow. "What?"
Julian turned to her. "You would give good competition to her."
They held eye contact, serious, for another second before bursting into laughter.
"You know you could have just let him ask for a lawyer like a normal person?" Alina said, her laugh fading. A pause. "Oh, by the way, Welcome Back."
They both gave themselves an imaginary hug, their hands fluttering in the air between them but never quite touching.
"Did he reveal everything?" Julian asked.
Alina nodded. "Hmm."
"Did you record everything?"
Alina nodded again. "I did."
Julian leaned back against the wall. Alina leaned forward, turning to face him.
"But I gotta say, you are a terrible interrogator."
Julian scoffed. "Well, you are the one who taught me."
Alina scoffed back. "Fuck off."
Julian grinned.
They were interrupted by a voice from the far corner of the corridor. "Alina and Julian, Peterson got a case. It's about the city official."
Julian's expression faltered. Alina looked up, curious, then looked back at Julian, noting his reaction.
"Peterson?" she called back. "I thought I would get the case."
"Well, you guys were working on the drug dealer, so, Peterson snatched it," the officer said.
Alina groaned. Julian stayed silent. She turned back to the officer. "Alright, cool. Bye." She waved at him. The officer waved back.
Alina then turned to Julian, who was completely silent, his expression unreadable, looking down at his feet.
"Wanna grab a coffee?" she asked.
Julian looked up at her. "Thank you, but no. I gotta go home."
Alina looked at her watch, then back at him. "This early?"
Julian sighed. "Well, we are done for the day."
Alina reluctantly nodded. Julian turned to leave, and Alina patted him on the back.
"I'll see you tomorrow, then."
Julian didn't turn back. "Yea."
He walked away, his footsteps echoing in the long corridor.