Disclaimer: I do not own either Buffy the Vampire Slayer nor the characters and situations of Grimm. I'm just playing with them and will put them back when I'm done.
It was called in as a disturbance of the peace. Nick glared at the report, hating the way his ankle was encased in a cast and subsequently plunking him on desk duty until he was cleared for field work again. In the meantime, he got to catch up on his paperwork and help with any overflow from the other departments.
The man in front of him was still cuffed, and he stared around the station like he was on a bad trip. Maybe he was--they got a fair number of druggies in here, after all.
"So, care to tell me your name?"
The man jerked. He was tall and broad-shouldered, and he was dressed well enough--not rich, but not poor or desperate--just a t-shirt, boots, jeans, well-used leather jacket. A worn black leather eyepatch covered his left eye; the right was brown. He had dark hair, and his face was full of supressed fear.
"Um. Xander. Xander Harris. Actually it's Alexander Harris but everyone calls me Xander and I don't have a middle name. Well you'd have to torture me for it and buddy, I'm so not into that."
Nick blinked. "Okay. It says here you disturbed the peace at a little coffee shop downtown. Wanna tell me why?"
Harris fidgeted. His eye flicked around the room, and he turned his head to see around him in a way that spoke of long practice. Nick was willing to bet the eyepatch was real, and old.
"Depends," he said at last. "If I tell you I see monsters, will you lock me up in a nuthouse? I had a friend in one of those, once, she didn't recommend the food or the clothes or the restraints on the bed and I didn't really say I see monsters, it was just a...a bad trip."
Nick raised an eyebrow. "A bad trip, huh? From what?"
Harris fumbled for a moment. "Expresso!" he said. "You know, the de-fat super mocha latte. Too much sugar and chocolate too fast, it's not good for the brain." He smiled, a charming, boyish grin. "I just let the sugar get to me."
Nick sat back and studied him. Harris had seemed off ever since Wu escorted him in and plunked him in front of Nick with a cheery "Something to keep you busy," before he made his escape. Harris had largely been silent, but Nick noticed when Harris flinched away from a perp, who had snarled and whose face had briefly sprouted a rat's snout and whiskers.
"Let's get a private room, Mr. Harris," Nick said, full of energy and a warm kernal of hope. "We can talk about insane asylums there."