Another dash of The Last Captain. Trying for some humor...
Devereaux called Baptiste and Venkman into his office. The partners cooled their heels for a few minutes while the Lieutenant thumbed back a few pages in the report and reviewed something. The viewscreen built into the watch commander’s desk was set at an angle that didn’t quite match the layout of the office. No matter how the various officers sharing the room moved it about, which left the lieutenants unable to access files and pay attention to whomever was in front of the desk.
Baptiste shuffled his feet impatiently. Venkman shot a warning look at his partner, knowing how annoying Baptiste found waiting on supervisors when he had work to do.
“So,” Devereaux chose to address the pair just as Baptiste flashed Venkman his best look of injured innocence. If the lieutenant saw the look, he chose not to comment, continuing, “Your IMP friends took the lab down and seized about five liters of this new drug. The bad guys lost two and a third man is in IMP custody, and he’s the guy had the last of the milspec weapons, but we haven’t any real leads on who headed up the drug operation.”
“The IMPs might yet provide us with some intel in that direction, Lieutenant,” Venkman said.
Devereaux nodded, looking back down at the display in his desk, “True. Different rules and all that.”
“Yes, sir,” Venkman said.
Baptiste raised a hand to waist level and pretended to jack off.
Venkman shook his head minutely, hoping that the lieutenant wouldn’t see either gesture.
Baptiste ignored his partner, holding his breath and continuing to stroke an imaginary cock.
“Did Captain Schrader give you any idea when they will have completed their interrogation?” Devereaux asked without looking up.
“No, sir. I believe she was distracted by the security concerns that caused her early departure from our scene.”
Baptiste nodded, face purpling and fist pumping.
Venkman tried to concentrate on anything but his partner's craziness, but found his eyes drawn inexorably back to his partner's purpling face.
Bap mouthed an “Oh, Yeah!” and squeezed his eyes shut.
Venkman shook his head helplessly and pinched his nose right between his eyes to prevent himself from laughing outright.
“You’ll want to knock that shit off right now, Baptiste,” Devereaux said without turning from the screen.
“Oui, Lieutenant!” Baptiste gasped, sounding like he was reaching orgasm. Despite his tone, he snapped to a crisp attention.
Venkman laughed, turned it into a cough as the Lieutenant turned back to face them.
“Listen you two,” Devereaux said, his expression serious, “While you continue to do very good work, and I appreciate it, you still need to toe the line and show some discipline. I don’t mind some high spirits and fun, but don’t go pulling faces behind my back and think I can ignore you acting like a jerk off.”
Baptiste spluttered and lost control, laughing outright and setting Venkman off.
Covering his mouth, Venkman tried to choke back the laughter, but just couldn't. Even the Lieutenant smiled in response to their laughter.
As he gained a measure of control over his laughter, Venkman that recognized the lieutenant’s smile in response to their laughter was a clear sign that Devereaux hadn’t seen what Baptiste was doing.
"Get out of here and finish this up," Devereaux ordered.
"Yes, Lieutenant," Baptiste said through his smile.
The pair fell out into the hallway, still laughing. Venkman wiped tears from his eyes as they returned to the report writing room.
As he resumed his seat he snorted a bit and turned to face his partner, "Lucky fucker."
"That's Mr. Lucky Fucker to you," Baptiste retorted.