CHAPTER 30
Diandra sat stiffly in the chair placed in front of a plain office desk inside the bustling station. The fluorescent lights above buzzed faintly, and the smell of strong coffee and something fried lingered in the air. Officers moved in and out, some flanking curiously in her direction from across the room. Some officers whispered. Others just stared.
Her eyes scanned the room slowly, studying the unfamiliar surroundings. There were a lot of things she didn't know and understand. There were filing cabinets, computers, phones ringing, officers typing loudly, and—in one corner—a barred holding cell. Her gaze narrowed at the sight of it.
"That's your dungeon?" She asked, pointing subtly.
An officer walking by paused mid-step and turned with a confused frown. "Our what?"
"The cell." She clarified. "Why is it out in the open like that? Should it not be underground? Hidden from the public?"
He blinked. "Uh… that's just the drunk tank."
