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The Detective Chief Inspector Of The Inspector Calls

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Not another sound is heard from the other end of the phone aside a small gasp and a few gentle, shaking breaths, before the blaring beep signals that the caller has just hung up. Now, enter Detective Chief Inspector Banks. His appearance denotes a man of wealth; a portly fellow with quite the beer gut. He could perhaps be described as abrasive or as lacking in regard for others, with qualities of a dictator, or as dominant, being ever one to take charge. He seemed to gain little happiness from his position, ever one for being pessimistic, or simply a realist as he tells everyone, and is an avid gambler with no other relations. After the line ends the call, Chief Banks sighs, rubbing a hand along the stubble that lines his chin, slow and harsh. A groan escapes his lips along with the chair as he stands, hands fumbling along his desk until he manages to gather what he was after: keys and packet of cigarettes. As soon as Banks stands, another movement within the room is to be heard also. This is Detective Chief Rivers, a lean and awkward young man of 6’2”. He has jet black hair and a long nose, and his personality is almost the opposite of Banks’; he is eager and obedient, submissive and optimistic, and always willing to give his time to assist the aid of the Chief, whom he regards with the utmost respect for. “C’mon, we’ve got a call,” Banks states with a lack of care to his voice that could be seen as apathy, shrugging on his coat. “You’re driving.” Eager to help and to

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