It felt like a fever, this heat of anxiety. It didn't break into panic, because Natty was measured, and emotionally cautious; but still the anxiety teetered on the edge of boiling point as he ran his hand distractedly through his hair.

It was a blessedly cool Summer's evening — at least, cooler than yesterday — and Natty wondered if the police station would even be manned at this hour. He'd never been there. But he was certain he saw a light on as he took two steps in one, and, with caution dropped, tried the door.

Rhys Gallagher

(OOC: Wasn't sure where the police station is, so I plonked the thread here; feel free to move!)