The first chapter is an interview with one of the two characters i want to be both protagonists and each others antagonist (to a degree, at least initially), if that makes any sense. After that, I'm thinking of putting some general facts about settings and the like.
Brief introduction to character:
Daniel Sharpe is 5'7" with a nose that's obviously been broken at some point and shaggy but not long charcoal hair. He's handy with a gun, but prefers not to use it. He's also recently been promoted to the rank of Detective Chief Inspector in the city police force.
The officer at the door carefully turns the handle and beckons me into Detective Daniel Sharpe's office. The Detective stands up, seemingly flustered, behind his desk: which is strewn with files, documents, paper clip chains other pieces of stationery. My attention is drawn to a picture frame that holds a photo of him and a young woman, seemingly taken at a fancy party. Sharpe stumbles over the office waste paper bin, as he attempts to pull up a chair for me, but he steadies himself on the desk.
“Sorry,” he apologises to me, “It's not usually this messy, I've just had my work cut out with this case the past few days. Please, take a seat”
He seats himself back on his desk chair and pulls out a packet of very simply labelled cigarettes.
“Mind if I have a smoke?” he asks, taking one out and lighting it without waiting for a response, and then slumps back, sticking it in his mouth, “So, you want to ask me a few questions?”
I nod, and take out my notebook.
1) Do you like your job? Why, or why not?
He takes a long drag and gives me a look as if to say “It's going to be one of those interviews, huh?”. Nevertheless, he shakes his head and answers.
“It's got its perks. Obviously I feel good as I'm locking up people who are a danger to society, and I get a nice office, complete with coffee machine” he gestures to the room around him, “But sometimes I have to wonder whether I've done the right thing in a case, and that can be difficult for me...” he trails off, his eyes wandering to the photo frame.
2) Who is the woman you're with in that picture? Your wife or girlfriend perhaps?
He looks up at me, and smiles half heartedly.
“I'm sorry, I'd rather not discuss her with you, it's a little... complicated. Please understand.”
His eyes betray his true feelings, a twinge of guilt mixed with pain.
3) Have you a lot of friends?
He chuckles, breaking into a smile.
“Outside the force? Sure, but they probably think I've forgotten about them: I don't get much time off because new cases are always turning up!”
4) What do you hate?
He pauses, looking thoughtful.
“Well, hate's a very strong word,” He muses, “And obviously there's a lot of things I really don't like, such as running out of smokes, or when my pay-cheque comes in late.”
Then something hits him.
“Certain cases. Sometimes you get a particularly twisted criminal, and the way they make their victims suffer is horrific,” A flash of anger leaps into his expression, leaping out again just as quickly.
5) What do you do in your spare time?
He starts cracking up with laughter, doubling over in his chair.
“Spare time?” He says through the noise he's making, “Any cop in this city with spare time isn't doing his job! I barely managed to squeeze time for this interview into my schedule.”
6) What did you have for breakfast this morning?
“A bacon bagel” He replies instantaneously, licking his lips, “With a glass of orange juice, and a milky coffee.”
I get the impression he enjoyed it almost too much.
7) Did you ever have a pet as a kid? Can you describe it/them?
He frowns, thinking hard for a good five minutes.
“My parents had a cat. I think.”
He doesn't look like he can remember anything else about it.
8) Do you believe in luck?
Definitely the most to the point answer I'm getting tonight.
9) What's your favourite smell?
He looks at me, blank faced. Obviously it's not something he really considers important. Or relevant at all.
10) What's the strangest thing you've ever seen?
He opens his mouth to answer, when the phones begins to ring. He glances at me and sighs, picking up the reciever.
“Yes? East Edward Road? Pathology and forensics teams already on their way? Good. Right, I'll be there as soon as possible,” he says, then turns to me, putting the phone down and smiling apologetically, “I'm sorry friend, but something's come up, and we're going to have to finish this interview here.”
I nod, and he grabs his large cream coat and his hat from the hat rack by the door before heading out onto the street...