Vagabond Cop

Participants:

schuyler_icon.gif tracy_icon.gif

Scene Title Vagabond Cop
Synopsis Schuyler comes into Tracy's office with a sketchbook, asking questions. Tracy is dealing with the media flak from a plane crash. A happy camper, she is not.
Date May 26, 2009

Tracy's Office - Midtown


It took a bit of calling around, persistance, wheedling, and as much charm as he could muster to get any information about that clip that was recently shown on the news. Schuyler kept at it with rather dogged determination until some poor gal took pity on him and gave him the name, number, and address of someone who might be able to help him out. So, dressed in his one suit and armed with pens and a smaller sketchbook with which to take notes on, he called and made an appointment to see the one in question.
He was a little learly for the appointment, but didn't seem to mind waiting. The sketchbook has been pulled out as well as one of the pens and he seems to be doodling something as he waits.

He needn't have been early - Tracy keeps him waiting about 15 minutes after his scheduled time. Conference call with the President over the recent Humanis First attacks. And poor, poor Tracy. She's not going to get any sleep for three days over this, but finally the man is shown in. "Mister Prince." She greets him curtly without looking up. She's shuffling through papers, pausing only to reach over to turn up the AC. "I can only give you five minutes, may I please ask what this meeting is about?"

Schuyler seemed happy to pass the time drawing, but when he's finally shown in, the sketchbook is closed and the pen is set back in his pocket…for the time being. He offers a nod and a hand, but pauses and takes it back at the immediate move into business mode. "Thank you for meeting with me, Ms. Strauss. I'd like some information about the newsclip that was recently shown on the air…the woman who was filmed ranting about the Evolved." He watches her, noting the tension in her frame and her movements and expression.

Tracy does become a bit more tense after that - after what's happened, and that woman was so threatening during the protest - well, it's nerve wracking to say the least. "May I ask your interest in her? It's on the news, I should think that would be the end of most peoples' business with it."

"Most, but not all." Schuyler looks around and moves to take a seat…or at least lean back against something stable. "My interest is that I'd like to find out who she is and why she feels the way she does. The problem is, she doesn't exactly leave her name on that clip. Since I was told you had some sort of connection with it, I was hoping you might be able to give me something to go on. I don't mean her any harm if that's what you're worried about. I just wanted to talk." He does his best to try and appear casual and earnest in his explanation.

Tracy sighs, slapping down some files in frustration as she's apparently unable to find the ones she needs. "Mister Prince, I am the Director of Communications for the President of the United States. This is not your local Humanis First branch, and if you want recruiting or member information this is not where you'll find it. I would dissuade you from such an interest in Humans First, given recent developments."

Schuyler holds up a hand as if to try and calm the woman, "No…no, I don't. I mean, if that's what she's in, ok, well, I guess that's a start, but the news station I called gave me your name. If I may ask, what is your connection to the clip? Do you know the woman? Did you take it? Or…even, where was it filmed? Or do you know who this 'Jezebel' is that she's referring to? I'm not looking for recruiting or to be recruited or to have anything to do with any branch. Honest!"

Tracy stands up, finally reguarding the man for hte first time. "Then what is your interest in the clip, Mister Prince? Yes, the Jezebel in the clip is me. She attempted to incite the group to attack me as a representative of the Executive Branch, that is my connection to the incident. But you still haven't told me why you're here, and if you're just some twisted, bored soul then I suggest you get the hell out of my office and get a job." He's wasting her time!

Schuyler's eyes widen at the outburst and he straightens, "Oh! I'm sorry that she was trying to attack you…I…" Ok, the pen and sketchbook come out and something is jotted down quickly, "Look, I do have a job and it's to find out more about this woman so that she -doesn't- go about attacking people, ok? I could really use your help…or any information you can give me so that I can make sure that you don't end up getting hurt because of her…nor anyone else like her. So please. I know you have got to be frustrated and tense, but I would really appreciate any help you could give me with her identity."

Tracy shakes her head. "I'm not giving you anything, and you're more than welcome to get out of my office if you're not going to identify with whom you are affiliated. I don't have time for cops who don't want any charges to stick or reporters who want to lose their jobs." She turns back to her papers, almost dismissively.

And this is what happens when no one gives him a badge or ID or anything…Sky had a feeling that it would come to this. "Look, Ms. Strauss. I swear to you that I just want to help. Wouldn't you rather have someone working on this so that you don't have to deal with it? Even if I did tell you who I worked for, would you give me the information?"

Tracy slaps the files down, this time out of pure anger. "Whomever you work for, Mister Prince, they obviously are not as busy as I am. If you have a badge, flash it, but if you're just going to sit there whinning like a kicked puppy I have piles of work to finish, and all you're doing is being a hinderance."

"So what? So you can still not give me the information? Why should I bother?" The pen and notebook are put away again somewhere in a pocket of his suit jacket, "God forbid you actually let someone else try and help out." Schuyler takes a couple of calming breaths for himself, "We could have given you some measure of protection, you know," is finally offered in a matter-of-fact tone. "Obviously, you don't want it. Not my neck on the line here. Good day to you, Ms. Strauss. And I suggest yoga. All that tension can't be good for your blood pressure." He gives a bit of a mock-salute before turning about to do as she asked and leave the office.

Tracy chuckles, shaking my head. "I don't give out information to crazies. For all I know? You're the next John Hinkley. So if you and your make-believe 'we' actually get anything done, wandering around without any credentials or recommendations? I weep for the future." And then she presses a button on her intercom. "Stacey if you /ever/ let another vagabond into my office I'll have your hide!"

But she's not screaming. Her voice never raises in pitch. It just becomes cooler, her tone almost deathly cold and her emotions clearly leaking out. But she never, ever shouts.
Schuyler offers with a brief turn of his head, "Because everything always turns out right by playing by the rules, huh? You need to brush up on your history, sweetheart." That said, he closes the door behind him. He does pause by the receptionist's desk (Stacey's?) and leans over to offer with a grin, "By the way…so you know for later, vagabonds smell." At least he has something to go on…it's not gift-wrapped and tied with a bow, but it's a start.


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