"I'm almost done… I think…" A few more scritches, and Shin'ichi slid from his slightly-too-high chair onto the ground, collecting the fax paper into a neat bundle.
"Okay. We'd better take this form directly to Sgt Martin," he said, standing on his tip-toes to get a better look at where Lupa was pointing. "It's better than waiting to make him pull it out of his inbox. Come on."
And off he confidently walked through the hall, settling into the vaguely familiar environment that was a station. While he was much more used to the size of the Tokyo Met headquarters, it was still vaguely pleasant to walk around an office, through desks and filing cabinets and house-plants. Even the piles of paperwork felt rather inviting.
(Paperwork wasn't usually his area, but he had to respect the poor blokes who had to do it. If anything in law enforcement could be labelled 'grunt work', it was paperwork; an unglamorous, machinated tedium, but ever so vital for identifying repeat offenders or re-investigating old cases.)
There was, however, a distinct lack of bustling activity compared to the Met. The officer count sounded pretty low for the building's scale so it shouldn't have surprised him, but considering the area it was situated, he kind of expected more business through the doors.
Of course, a large, clunky robot suddenly slid through the office on a rail, putting a fine end to all that comfort. Of course, the building was manned. It just wasn't all that much manned by… well, man.
"Hey, do you remember which door it was?" Conan asked Lupa.