"So!" he declares. "Why don't you two tell me how you knew Mr.," he squints at the sheet, puzzled. "Mr. ah, Flying River." I shudder: no wonder he wanted to ditch the whole Native American thing. No wonder he didn't like his parents.
I realize that lots of time has passed, because Jon just met the guy yesterday and hardly has anything to say. I tell Officer Chuck that I met Mr. Flying River while on a bus. "He sat next to me, and we talked for the duration of the ride." I'm not sure where these weird, official words are coming from (I deduce later that it's cop shows and a splash of the DMV)
Officer Chuck asks with a leery curiosity if we had had sexual relations. I let him know that such information is both private and with little relevance to the issue at hand, but that we did not. He visibly deflates, and then looks with hope at Jon and I.
"Ehm, how would you, define, ehm, the relationship that the two of you have?"
I tell Officer Chuck that we are roommate friends. This is a lie, one that hurts Jon. Well, not as much as heavy prison time would.
We tell Officer Chuck some more things, and he informs us with false regret that we're going to have to come downtown with him.
The police station is uptown.