SW

ɢᴏʀᴅᴏɴ:

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“Hey!” Jim rose his voice a bit as he walked over to his desk after seeing someone not only sitting in his chair but eating his lunch as well. “That doesn’t belong to you,” he scolded in a gruff tone, eying the mostly devoured takeaway box. Crossing his arms, Jim looked down disapprovingly but at the most stern, not mad. “And what exactly is it then? Because it looks like you’re eating my lunch.—Who are you anyways?”

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    ⚡️ –––  Okay, so maybe it’s exactly how it looks, ❞ Barry muttered, at least having the decency to look a little guilty. He’d been pretty hungry after his run all the way to Gotham and had figured he could probably get away with nicking this guy’s lunch before he got back, but of course that backfired; Not to mention he’d somehow come across a guy whose disapproving glare gave even Joe a run for his money. He set the takeout box down slowly before sticking his hand out to the detective and managing a slightly sheepish smile.  Barry Allen. I’m a CSI from Central City… Uh, sorry about your lunch.