Helen Wilson knew she was being harsh, but seeing James Brown's innocent face only fueled her irritation. If it were really about subduing a criminal, that would be one thing, but James wasn't a criminal at all, so she felt like she was swallowing a bitter pill. How could she be in a good mood or keep her temper while looking at him?
"Name?" Helen Wilson pulled out a notebook, her face stern.
James Brown slowly moved to the couch and sat down, saying, "Officer Wilson, do you really need to talk like that? It sounds like you're interrogating a criminal."
"Cut the chit-chat and cooperate with my work."
"Alright, alright, I get it—civil cooperation. My name's James Brown, 26 this year."
"Hand over your ID card."
James complied quite well this time, meekly handing over his ID. Helen Wilson examined it thoroughly before returning it, asking, "How long have you been living here?"
"Three months."
"What did you do before?"
"Hmm, where do you work now?"
