The Some-Officers Club

Detective Doxin was a very experienced detective with a long lance of fame which improved his confidence—a little bit. He was a man with brown hair and an impaled face. 

He was also a man of class too.

Most times he would come in a professional pose—but instead of profession, it was technically kind of like a fashion competition, with no competitors. But, since previously last night, he came with a drag of a shirt and a tie and his hair roughed up the top.

Jacques was a simple man of sense. 

He'd usually come in a black striped suit with a grey vest without a particular tie.

He also had a light tan face with thinned eyebrows. 

"Well, look at the one in fashion, Décevant", Det. Jacques jested, with a forgettable snicker.

"Shush up."

Doxin trudged towards his resting seat—where he sat for seven hours of the day.

"How was your night?" Jacques asked as he put in the water for the coffee machine.

Doxin turned his head slowly at Jacques.  

This question was never asked—perhaps in this case.

"Since when do you ask that—?"

"Well, you and Julie had a night together."

"She was out of coma a week ago and you guys celebrated, droit?" 

Doxin sighed as he thumped his head silently onto the desk.

"Hey, sometimes love can go far, you know?" 

"I never said I didn't approve it", Det. Jacques corrected silently. 

Doxin raised his head and slowly looked at Jacques again. "You sure sounded like it."

"Don't worry, your kids would be more than happy to have a father with a net worth of 50 million."

"100 million actually, got a check of 50 million dollars for rescuing the First Lady's cat."

Det. Jacques had a silence of disbelief—probably a young boy could do—but was assigned a detective.

"Vous les Américains", he said quietly as he resumed sipping his coffee.

Doxin had a soft laugh.

"Jacques, not all Americans are bad related to your please."

The french detective responded, "Yeah, I know that, because you're different."

Det. Doxin smiled with dignity. "Yep I'm diff—"

"You're worse."

He froze as his face mingled into a disgusted, shamed face. Det. Jacques started laughing abruptly. 

The laugh seemed to move Doxin more and more into a small, jesting anger. 

"It's okay, I'm just messing around with you," Jacques said as he sipped his coffee. Doxin had a soft blink of confusion, but then returned to his work. 

*Knock—Knock*

Doxin turned his soft chair and led it towards the door. As he opened, a mid-height blonde with enticing lips and a soft pale skin, with a ragged jacket and a sparkled shirt which stretched her chests, with tight jeans with bare feet.

Julie.

She was a very great friend of Jacques but a girlfriend for Doxin. 

Det. Jacques looked at her with a silent glare, since it wasn't so much—presentable.

"Well bonjour, how was your night?" he asked curiously.

"You meant how was your day," she said with a curl in her voice which even made Jacques more curious.

Doxin smiled as he gazed at her. "You're looking good today, Julie", he said right away.

Jacques coughed.

"Ahem, you should never meet a woman with a start of that, you greet her with pleasure and poise and say, mademoiselle, glad to meet you."

Doxin turned his chair and blinked many times with an unwelcome face. 

Det. Jacques sighed, "Well, a way to start it out like that could sometimes offend other men. Because you never know who's girlfriend it is."

"Well, Jacques. I know her and she is now occupied with me." 

Julie reacted with a romantic smirk. "Sometimes Doxin, you're so loyal."

She reached her hand across his shoulder, to the small reach of his back. She stretched her leg towards the back of his chair and rested on him. Their lips slowly met as they continued to make unsettling sounds—which perhaps—disgusted Jacques.

He continued to stare at them with disgusted feeling. "Doxin, can you please!"

He stared over to Jacques who was now trembling his hands which made a wiggle with the coffee.

Doxin shrugged. "Well, that's what love is."

Det. Jacques smacked his head. "You are so not a ladies man." 

Riiinnnggg!!

Doxin grabbed his phone. "Hello, this is Detective Doxin." 

He put down the phone as he straightened himself. "Owen's home."

"Well, let's see the footage," Jacques said as he leaned over to the desktop.

The first camera showed footage of the door,  since the camera was planted between the corner. 

"Hey, little buddy", Dad said as he grappled his hands on Owen.

Brent Davis was—of course—a father. He was also a businessman which he started his business two months ago which reached rapidly to a revenue of 1.2 billion. 

He was a man with an inch-stretched chin and brown fluffed up hair with a jacket and some t-shirt. He just wore some pajama pants after. 

"How was school?", he asked.

Owen sighed, "Eh, I got detention again."

His father's smile turned into a closed frown.

"What happened this time?" 

"So, I was working on my assignment and I turned it in", Owen said as he cleared his throat.

"As I went back to my seat, I just found out that the whole—" 

"Some whole scary dream which made you answer a question wrong."

"Son, get a new excuse, this cannot be tolerated."

"You can't be sleeping in class and then use some story of some scary dream", his dad scolded.

Owen sighed.

"I know, but it just happens, like it literally happens!" his dad looked a him with a stare still eyes and changed in his voice. 

"If this happens again, you wouldn't like it."

His dad said as he went back to the computer. 

Jacques sighed as he sipped his coffee. The sad silence then turned into a laugh—from Doxin—which later became awkward. 

"Why are you laughing?" Jacques asked.

Doxin cleared his throat from the laugh. 

"Well, it's that same excuse."

"I mean, how bad could it be?!"

Julie moved her head with a shrug.

"He is just a kid so—how would he not be scared of those dreams."

Doxin scoffed. 

"Julie, allow me to tell you the story of Owen while you were in a coma. He experienced a kidnap of his father and a near-death experience. He also experienced some things like threats and danger and death and all that stuff."

Jacques nodded. Doxin remarked, "If he lived through those—how would he be scared of little dreams?"

Jacques had to agree.

Owen dumped his backpack onto his bed and laid down cautiously. 

Why do these things happen?

Why does everything go wrong?

So much for the rich boy.

Doxin Pov:

I'm a very professional detective who has saved the world before.

I'm just joking.

But I have saved two states before—and London anonymously. 

So far, life has been well. I'm not technically too much of a detective anymore, but I can still have permission to investigate other things. 

I'm technically a guard for the Davis' family. 

I thought of that certain case to be those cases I solve—and then I never hear from them again. 

But this dirty rich family decided to invite me as a guard for them. I was gonna be paid one hundred ninety thousand each year so—might as well take it.

I've been noticing that my french partner, Jacques, has been disgusted everytime he sees me with Julie.

Not that he hates her or something, he just feels like we're too "ugh" sometimes, or that I'm not treating her right.

Look.

Julie is probably that woman that best fits me, although she could be pretty frightening at times. I love her with all my—why am I talking about this?

Apparently, the person I should be watching over is Owen. And everyday it comes like this. 

"How's school?" 

"Fine, I just got detention again."

"Owen, you can't keep going on like this."

"But it's true!"

"If this happens again, you wouldn't like it."

Same thing—everytime. But I always wonder, how do you get detention when they don't even know you have dreams. And why is Owen scared of dreams that are not even worse than what happened then?

Jacques POV:

Well, I'm a person with a very open heart to citizens and with opened fists to enemies. I'm not gonna lie, but Doxin can just get you in your skin real bad. 

When he's without Julie, he is that Doxin I know. But when Julie comes, he gets all smooth talk and so armoric. 

And don't get me wrong, mes amies. 

He loves her a lot.

But just don't try to dégoûter people with your seducing actions. 

Then he has this certainty of making people think that he is very powerful and great.

I mean literally—fifty million—for saving someone's cat. A poor fireman could literally climb up there and grab the kitten himself. 

But he had to take some flight to Washington D.C to save a cat!

Well, I mean—what else am I supposed to do? You know what they say, You can never change a person.