Participants:
| Scene Title | Shouldn't Take Long |
|---|---|
| Synopsis | In which Audrey has a few "routine" questions and Danko fails to respect the badge. |
| Date | March 08, 2010 |
Danko's Apartment
You have to follow all leads and with another copy cat killing under ones belt, Audrey needed to scratch another name off the list. Contrary to what Felix had told her, Emile Danko was clean in the 'do we want to arrest him' aisle. Granted, supposedly former member of Humanis First, even Audrey knows that that kind of racism just doesn't go away.
The sharp rapping that comes on this chilly, snowladen monday afternoon is one that probably unexpected by the former marine. But if one peers through the peephole, there's the Homeland Agent, brown hair tucked behind ears, winter jacket over simple suit, and waiting for someone to answer the door. Preferably sooner, rather than later.
No television. No books. No pets.
Danko's apartment is as devoid of distraction as it is color, and a mind has to wonder exactly what he gets up to in there to while waking hours away. Odds are, he just isn't home all that much to begin with, but this afternoon is an exception.
He's sitting at his desk when Audrey's knock sounds sharp at the door, pupils flushing black against the black and white wash of one photocopy after another. Faces and names and records he shouldn't have. S'the way it's always been and the way it will always be, as long as there's still money in the world and people to wish they had more've it.
His trio of monitors flicked off one at a time, file clipped shut and dropped into one unmarked Dell box among many, he drags his gun off the desk where it'd been serving as a paperweight next to his coffee and starts warily for the door. Rather as if he expects it to explode off its hinges at any second.
It doesn't.
So it goes. He squints out through the peep hole, unfeeling eyes every bit as attuned to detail as any telephoto lens, but in the end, opts to turn the lock and unfasten the bolt, right hand (and firearm) planted comfortably out of sight against the door's back when he cracks it open the few inches necessary to peer suspiciously out at Agent Hanson.
Not much gives Agent Hanson the heebie jeebies. But Danko? Danko's creepy enough to give most anyone the heebie jeebies. Agent Hansons just a little better than John Q. Public at hiding that he gives her the heebie jeebies. When the sound of obvious occupancy filters through the door and then the portal swinging open just enough for the stare through the chained inches, Audrey unfolds a leather wallet to flash credentials.
"Danko? Mr. Emile Danko I presume?" She inquires. "I'm Agent Hanson of Homeland Security. I need a few moments of your time please" No, can I, no may I. I need.
The fact that Danko doesn't tower over Audrey the way people tend to may be the first impression she has of him. That and the fact that his eyes are like riverstones set deep in his skull, cold and wet as they are hard in their methodical inspection of cheekbones and bob and makeup en absentia. He looks last of all to the flash of her wallet, unimpressed to the core.
But.
He steps back and in, drawing the door further open along with himself as if in resigned invitation.
"It's just a few routine questions. Your name popped up during the course of our investigation. It shouldn't take long" No move is made to enter into the apartment no matter his offer. She's heard of him, looked him up before coming here. Considering she's about to inquire as to whether he's responsible for some deaths, she's not about to walk right into his apartment.
"Where were you on the night of March fourth at approximately half past nine Mr. Danko?" She tilts her face up just a bit, leveling eyes at him with her slightly pinched lips.
Danko stops short of leaving off the door entirely when she opts to stick to the hallway, gun still poised in a lazy grip behind the edge — just out've sight while he sizes her up anew. This time with the phantom touch of a leer at her expense. He complies, in any case, free hand braced casually up against the frame so that he can lean his weight into it. The door edge, and so the gun along with it, follow at a slothful bump.
"March the fourth at 'approximately' half past nine," echoed back at a hoarse slither of tongue against teeth with his own emphasis added where he wills, Emile cants his brows up and draws in a deep breath as if he needs it to think back that far. He's in all black, as is to be expected, matte leather and slacks broken up passably by some pinstriping down the collared shirt beneath. ~Fabulous.~ "What…s'that…last Thursday? I can't say I remember exactly, but I'm at least eighty-percent sure I wasn't killing anyone that night."
"Last Thursday" Audrey confirms with a glance, head canting just to the left. Pretty sure he wasn't killing anyone. "Do you have anyone who can attest to your whereabouts Mr. Danko?" Standard question really. She's pretty sure that the man who doesn't like evolveds and that's a fairly weak interruption of his actions, wouldn't be evolveds himself and doing these murders.
"Any particular reason your name might have come up in association with that of a man named Gabriel Gray?"
"I'm afraid that's a negative," drawled off without nearly enough feeling for the fact that he may be about to get himself hauled into a holding cell for the next little while, Danko stands his ground for the time being, both heels grounded in the apparently safe haven of his apartment so long as she isn't interested in crossing the threshold. "On both counts. Unless, of course, you're referring to my imaginary list of people I'd push a button to drop dead if I had the ability." And there, with a sidelong pull of a half smile that might pass for tolerantly polite for someone with less skill in reading people, he leans back and starts to close the door between them.
"Have you decided we're done with the questions Mr. Danko?" Audrey asks, lips pursed when he makes the obvious motions to end the conversation without any indication from here that it is done. "I'd suggest not leaving town, since you can't account for your whereabouts on Thursday. We might want to speak with you further." Her jaw tight, leather folder is put away and she makes her own motions to leave. "We'll be in touch"
"I'm more'n happy to waste more of Homeland Security's time, at your convenience, Mizz Hanson." Door creaked shut save for sliver enough for him to get one last sidelong look out through the crack at her, he manages something along the lines of a more genuine smile before he moves to shut it entirely. "Have a good night."
"You as well" She manages to offer back, showing her back to the man and starts back towards the elevators. Maybe Ruskin was bullshitting her, maybe not. She'd have to check and see. One thing that was known was that If she did this again, she sure as hell was doing it on her territory and not on his.