Chapter Text
There were many things Fox didn't like about being an officer in the Coruscant Police Department.
He didn't like the amount of illegally parked vehicles they had to tow each day off pedestrian areas, for example—you'd think people would just walk on the beach, but apparently not.
He despised how much petty, unnecessary violence happened in Coruscant, too.
Like, seriously, did someone really have to get into a fistfight with a barista because they put cold foam in a drink instead of heavy whipping cream?
The answer was a clear, easily understandable no, but that didn't stop the people of Coruscant.
Nothing seemed to.
Fox also strongly disliked some of the other units in the department—especially Anakin's lot, they being the rowdiest, most unprofessional group of investigators (read instigators) he'd ever met.
But, out of all of it, Fox hated Wednesdays the most.
Wednesday was bowling night.
Now, don't get him wrong; he enjoyed spending time with his men, and he supported morale boosters, but bowling?
Cosmic bowling?
There was nothing worse, in his opinion.
"Come on, Fox," Thorn was whining, sitting on Thire's desk with his kriffing dumb bowling bag next to him. "It's tradition!"
Fox rolled his eyes. "Isn't tradition the thing that supported witch burning, too? Am I to be burned?"
"Oh my Force, Fox," Thire groaned with as much theatrics as he could muster, running both hands down his face. "Does everything have to come back to dying with you?"
"Does your mother—"
"That's not important!" Thorn interrupted quickly, stopping the argument before it could start. Again. "Are you gonna come or not? You said you liked it last week," the box blond pointed out before he could protest.
Fox sighed.
He did, in fact, have fun last week, but he'd die before he'd ever admit that to Thorn, of all people.
Still...
"... Fine."
The men whooped, high-fiving like they were on some sitcom, dragging Fox out of his dimly lit office.
They met Stone at his car, the parking garage cool and echoey, taking the city sounds and throwing them right back.
Fox grumbled the entire time they bullied him into the backseat.
He still had a lot of paperwork to do, especially after the damages done by a recent arson attack, but for his unit? For his men?
It could wait a little longer.
He still hated Wednesdays, though.