"Okay, Ma'am," said the officer, whose nametag read, "L. Jackson," like I said, I just have to ask you a few questions and then I'll be on my way."
"Umm...alright," Deirdre replied, not really wanting to be bothered, just wanting to take a long bath and have a stiff drink or three, and be done with the evening's outright weirdness.
The first few questions were routine, Deirdre's name and age, social security number, etc. But then, just as the 911 operator had asked, the officer said, "Are you in heat, ma'am?"
"What?" Deirdre said, convinced this had to be some sort of weird inside joke with the police and emergency services personnel.
"You know how blood affects the primals, and with it being a full moon and all, it would make sense. The guy we arrested is a known primal," the officer replied, sounding rather matter of fact about the whole thing.
"Primals?" asked Deirdre, "What the hell are you talking about?"
Over the officer's walkie-talkie came the voice of the dispatcher, "Be advised, caller is a new resident. Proceed with standard protocol, directive two."
"What the hell is going on?" Deirdre asked, alarmed.
"Just stay calm, ma'am," the officer replied, then hit her walkie talkie button, "Roger, proceeding now."
"Look, if you don't start giving me some answers, I'm going to get your badge number!" Deirdre snapped, getting angry.
"Ma'am, just let me explain," the officer replied, sounding just as rigid and authoritarian as she had when she arrived.