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| Scene Title | Booking Block Tango |
|---|---|
| Synopsis | And now, the various Safe Zone Residents of the Red Hook Market Brawl, in their rendition of the Booking Block Tango. |
| Date | November 26, 2019 |
It's not exactly as though there had been a line, but Niki Zimmerman had made sure to jump to the front of it anyway. After those transported from Red Hook had been sat together in a processing area, she had been the first to jump to her feet when it came time to give her mugshot.
At a short distance away, she stands in front of the camera with both thumbs up, the plaque with her booking number sandwiched between her forearms. The officers have tried talking her out of it, to no avail. This was just one of several steps, ma'am, don't make this a whole event. Nope, she's set on this.
Everyone else waiting might be awhile.
In that interim, there's a quiet murmur of conversation that starts up. Joe and May huddle together. The two vendors who were involved commiserate about not knowing what happened to their goods and tables, not having had time to designate a deputy to look after them.
Then there's Shaw, sat next to the agitated Roxie who he'd helped off the ground.
Agitated is one way to put it. Roxie had shoved Shaw away when he had helped her up, claiming she was perfectly capable of getting up her self. Now she was seated next to him and it felt really awkward. Or maybe that is guilt on her part… a feeling she was trying to squash. The young woman shifts away from the man, huddling in her chair.
With a sudden growl of annoyance, Roxie tries to jerk apart her cuffed wrists yet again. (Yes she knows it doesn’t work that way)
Roxie needed out. The was the worst place for her.
She hadn’t been this on edge when they started, but it had only grown after a conversation with one of the officers. Roxie was trying desperately to hide the anxiety and fears that was gnawing at her gut… which felt like it wanted to lose what little she had in it.
“They think I’m a fuckin’ kid,” Roxie suddenly says, seems she’s talking to Shaw again. “I ain’t a minor. I’m eighteen. Eighteen!” That last she says straightening in her seat and saying it loud enough for the guards to hear. When one glances at her, they will quickly regret it as she adds just for them, “That right! I’m. an. adult!”
Flopping back in the chair and pushing her legs out in front of her, the girl glances at Shaw out of the corner of her eye. That is when the guilt returns and doubles down until Roxie grumbles a reluctant, “Sorry for being a bitch to you,” under her breath.
He hadn't minded being shoved away. Shaw's handled being manhandled like a pro for several years, tolerating the process with a mixed air of familiarity and curiosity. Polite company might suggest that handcuffs shouldn't be so familiar. But nevertheless, they are.
He sits patiently, without a fuss. Shaw watches as Niki gets processed, uttering the phrase "Book 'em, Danno" to himself while the councilwoman is getting her picture taken. Attention bounces between the police portraiture process and the miserable mob of the others huddle up. He glances beside him when Roxie acts up, angling his head away when she gets louder for the guards' sakes. She's a puzzle, although he offers comfortingly, "It's okay. My daughter says the same thing." The part about being an adult? Or the part about being a bitch to him? Possibly both.
"Anyway, don't worry about it," Shaw notes, a quick shrug dismissing the offense. Another few clicks tick by before he adds in afterthought, "I'm glad I didn't buy the chicken." A recognition of the time passing, and how devastating it would have been to have unrefrigerated produce left sitting in his confiscated backpack.
Making her way through the Watchtower, Elisabeth Harrison isn't really involved in the booking process. Not until she hears an officer come through as she's getting on the elevator laughing about the Councilwoman and the mug shot. At which point, she stepped off the elevator and headed toward booking. Jesus fucking Christ… really? Because of course she did. (Niki, I thought you were at least pretending to be on the straighter and narrower these days.)
On arrival, though, she pauses at the door and quirks a brow at the remaining people on benches. The sight of Shaw sitting there has her sighing. Greeeeat. Her phone comes out and she texts Isabelle to come get him. He won't have to waste the phone call. Sure, it means her phone is gonna blow up with texts from Izzy, but whatever.
"Everybody okay?" She eyes Roxie and Shaw. "How bad was it?" Her tone is pretty easygoing, since it doesn't seem like it was any real big thing.
The man gets an odd look when he mentions a daughter. There’s not really not much to say to that, but when it comes to the chicken… “Yeah, cans and non-perishables are the way to go,” Roxie comments in grudging agreement with Shaw, like she knows. Leaning forward, her arms resting on her legs, eyes on her boots. “Sometimes jerky. Makes an okay soup when I got a good fire.”
That’s about all she says on that as a new pair of shoes stops in her view, forcing her to look up to see who it is. Roxie glares up at the older woman for interrupting the conversation. “Course, I’m not fucking okay.” The young woman gripes, “I’m here, ain’t I, while Goober’s out there somewhere hurt in this fucking cold? You all need to let me go. I need to find him.” She leans to the side just enough to throw a glare at May.
If looks could kill.
Looking up, she asks with a jerk of her chin at Elisabeth. “You C.P.S.?” Her current state of dress is assessed. “Cause I told them, I’m eighteen, so you’re just wasting all our time.” Roxie insists yet again, she’s pretty firm on this point.
Shaw nods at Roxie's words. "Jerky soup over a fire," he echoes nostalgically as he rolls his shoulders and subsequently leans against his seat backing. Roxie's probably getting a certain impression that he's gone through this process a lot. It's when he sees Elisabeth - and she sees him - that he perks back up and actually looks pleased to see the NYPD SCOUT lieutenant. "Hi Liz." Liz? "Everybody's o—" He starts to answer, but cuts away back to Roxie and the young woman's grumbling.
"I'm okay," Shaw corrects after a brief pause for Roxie to speak her piece. "Only the bread was crushed. But we can still use it for the stuffing." Optimism colors his tone - he's thought about consequences, though maybe coming to the wrong conclusion about them and that the results won't be that serious. Another pause, a blink, and a turn back to Roxie leads to the simple if belated query, "The dog?"
Elisabeth definitely looks 'official' in that her blonde hair is confined to a pinned-up knot on top of her head and she's wearing a pair of dark gray slacks and blazer with a soft peach-colored shell beneath them. But she's not CPS, if the badge and gun at her hip are anything to go by. She shakes her head in amusement at Shaw. "Yeah… it'll be gr—" She's cut off by the buzzing of her phone in her hand. Glancing down at it, she rolls her eyes. After something like 8 or 9 separate texts in rapid succession, she shoves the thing in her pocket and ignores it. "Isabelle's on her way," she tells Shaw drily.
Tipping her head at the young woman, the blonde purses her lips slightly. "Well, you might be better off not hollering about that and just letting them assume. But… considering they're booking you both, I doubt that will fly anyway. Look…" She backs up a step or two and grabs one of the uniformed officers, mumbling a query and apparently getting a response. There's a sigh and another bout of rolled eyes. Then she comes back. "Look… they're going to book you, the charges sound pretty minor. They'll get you in front of a judge quick-fast." She glances at Shaw. "Izzy's got the bail." Her phone is still buzzing in her pocket. "You won't be stuck for too long, I'm sure." She can't help but grin at the man. "You won't miss out on stuffing, I promise."
The dog? That at least makes her quirk a questioning brow as she watches the two of them.
"I hope that mutt gets hit by a car," one of the men sitting on a separate bench stage-mutters. "I hope he didn't have rabies." He shoots a glare in Roxie's direction, openly accusing her of being the type not to follow up on vaccinations. She looks like she's been sleeping rough, after all.
As for how he came to have such strong opinions about the dog in question, look no further than the frayed tears of his pant leg. The skin underneath is clean, though, much as he might gripe otherwise.
The old woman, May, looks over at Roxie's yelling about being an adult with a crease of her brow. "Just show them your ID, dear. They'll believe you then." She's not caught up on the initial question and answer sessions that have already happened for her.
The man in flannel, sitting next to the one disparaging Goober, just frowns and lifts cuffed hands to wipe at his scuffed nose as Shaw cheerfully talks about the bread. He has a nice black eye forming to go with the nearly-inconsequential scuff. Shaw didn't give him that one, but he'll get the evil eye for it anyway.
Roxie might have answered Shaw with scathing sarcasm about her dog, after an annoyed glare at Liz, but the man over ——> there decides to open his mouth. One can almost see the hackles rise with her anger.
In fact, Roxie jumps to her feet with a growl. “You son of a…” Her teeth bared with her emotions, the young woman snaps out, “You better fucking hope he doesn’t, douchebag.” There is a threat in those words, even if they were all bigger than her and could probably snap her neck. She wasn't afraid of them.
The only thing that keeps Roxie from launching herself across the benches at him is she didn't want to make things worse for herself.
But, that might be a moot point since Roxie can't seem to stop her mouth shut.
“If he gets rabies it’ll be cause you are a fucking disease of a human being.” Roxie motions to all the evo haters with her handcuffed hands. “All of you are.”
News that Isabelle's on her way down with bail gets a smile first, but then he gets the dry part of Liz's tone. "Oh." His finally abashed response combines with a sidelong look back to the others for their commentary. Roxie's defensive leap up startles him and he leans away with a slight wince in his eye on the side nearest her. It's learned reflex, likely learned from having been around volatile - sometimes literally - ladies for several years now. "Don't worry, he's a good dog," Shaw tries to soothe the feisty one.
"I'm sure your dog will be okay," Elisabeth assures the young woman quietly. Her blue eyes do rest on the people not familiar to her, because the cop told her that it has anti-SLC overtones all through this mess, though she doesn't have a good handle on what's actually gone on. She'll grab Niki later, after the councilwoman makes bail, and ask about it. She makes a mental note to ask about stepped-up patrols in the Market to try to head off some of this bullshit. "When you're done in front of the bench, Shahid, you and Izzy text me? We'll grab some coffee." Maybe she can get the full story then… although with the way her phone is still blowing up, maybe not. She's rather amused at how much Isabelle's texting her. Hopefully she's not texting and driving.
"I'll check and see if there's anything I can do to expedite matters, okay?" The lieutenant is curiously nonchalant about the whole matter. It doesn't seem to bother her that she's making coffee plans with a guy in handcuffs as easily as if they were standing on a street chatting. A glance at the others — the ones who seem to be just bystanders and the ones who seem to maybe have started this whole mess if Roxie's outbursts are to be believed — has a hint of steel to it. "Once we sort out who started what, the charges will get sorted out."
Speaking of who started what, they might have to sort that out all over again. With Roxie on her feet, the other guy leaps to his as well. "Look who's fucking talking, street trash. I dare you to bring that shit over here."
"Hey, hey," a nearby cop raises his voice at them, beginning to close in.
“He is a good dog,” Roxie agrees. Shaw and Liz’s words help a little to smooth the girl’s feather. In fact, she was even thinking about sitting, but then the big guy taunts her again. Anger snaps in her eyes and those close to her can see her vibrating with tension, with fists curled tight.
“Pfft Ha!” There is a bitter bark of anger, she knows what he wants of her; but he’s not getting it. Roxie wanted to get out of that place. Hopefully. “Fuck no. You bring it, asshole.” Roxie simply snarls back and throws up a twin pair of middle fingers, not caring about the cop closing in.
Message sent, the teen drops to sit again with shoulders hunched against the nausea and anxiety that was knotting in her stomach. For all her bravado, Roxie was terrified to be there — Her stomach decides in that moment to let out an embarrassingly loud growl — And hungry. It was why she had been in that market after all.
“Goober is the best dog,” Roxie grumpily comments quieter this time, trying to take the attention off her stomach.
"Coffee. And waffles. Let's do brunch," Shaw agrees with Elisabeth, casting a glance to the woman's phone when it buzzes again. Legs bounce up and down in rapid movement like he's suddenly motivated to move, and the only reason he doesn't is because of the belligerent man's insults leveled at Roxie and her subsequent gesticulated retort. Shaw frowns in the man's direction, staring widely and straight at him. And for a moment, he starts to reach out with his sense negating field again, spreading like invisible crawling fingers in a paralyzing, numbing loss of feeling… until Roxie's stomach growls. Distractedly, Shaw drops the power and turns, blinks at Roxie, then looks to Elisabeth with a pleading, silent look. Maybe she can help? She definitely can help.
A hand is raised from Elisabeth to the cop who's handling booking, a silent It's fine, I've got this. Her blue eyes turn to the mouthy son-of-a-bitch and she says politely, "Sir. Sit down, and shut up if you want to actually be out of here sometime today. We have the authority to hold you for 24 hours" She gives him a glare raising one finger in warning when he opens his mouth again. "and people get lost in the system sometimes these days." It's the only warning he's going to get. "Right now, you're all basically getting a warning. Be graceful about it and you'll be done quick, fast, and in a hurry.."
To Shaw, she starts to say something and then notes the Federale heading this way. Because obviously Shaw's name flagged the system. Of course it did. "You, young man," she teases him, "get to deal with Agent Cranky on his way down the hall there." She points over her shoulder. "And you," she tells Roxie, "let's see if we can get you some kind of corroboration that you're not a minor, and get you through the system too."
She motions another officer over and says, "Wanna help them sort this out, please? She doesn't have a good ID, and if she's 18, we don't want social services involved if they don't need to be. They have enough going on."
The waved-off cop issues a long look at Elisabeth before he shakes his head to himself, picking up the bruised Joe instead for his turn in front of the camera. If Elisabeth wants to play peacekeeper, fine by him.
The man on his feet can't hardly believe it, though. He scoffs, looking back to the cop who's already turned away, and then to everybody else present. "You hearin' this?" he asks the room, then looks to the seated May in particular. "Get a load of this crooked cop." May hears. May sees. She doesn't say anything, though. The man continues to linger on his feet, leering in Elisabeth's direction but ultimately coming to a seat. He'll remember this.
The suit Elisabeth had pointed out is indeed speaking with one of the booking officers, gesturing in Shaw's direction and showing his SESA badge. The officer in question is sighing, not eager to see whatever this turns into, but turns to start heading his direction.
Meanwhile, the other officer that Elisabeth's pulled over looks between noisy Roxie and then back to Liz, disinclined to be supremely helpful. "Listen, we can't get a positive ID on her. No address, no ID, can't find her in any system…" She leans in closer to Elisabeth, brow popping as she asides, "Kid looks like she's been sleeping rough. You ask me, that's exactly the type of situation social services needs to get involved in." She doesn't take off just yet, but her opinion on it seems to be final. It’s not to be difficult; it’s to be helpful.
“Speakin’ of crooked. You look in the mirror lately,” Roxie fires back, her head tilting to one side with brows lifted. “Should get that looked at.” She motions at the whole of him.”Cause damn.” None of it is said with the same energy from moments before, but she couldn’t stop poking the bears.
The word ‘kid’ gets a severe roll of Roxie’s eyes and a frustrated sigh. Her head thumps against the wall as she stares at the ceiling, in a silent plea to whatever being resides above to give her patience. “I told you.” Roxie starts sounding almost bored, “I grew up during the war. We were constantly moved to keep ahead of fighting. The last thing my parents thought to take when the world was blowing up was to take papers.”
Straightening, she continues, looking between the pair, her voice flat and edged with irritation, “My name is Roxanne Lopez, I was born September 20th, 2001.”
It… it almost sounds rehearsed.
Shaw looks in the direction of the point to down the hall where his fate rests in the decisions of 'Agent Cranky'. Oh. Right. But since he's been told not to disclose the sensitive nature of his existence here, he clams up and nods slowly, chastened by Liz's hidden warning within her teasing. He turns back to Roxie and listens in on the girl's provided identity and age. Sympathy colors his expression, and he sighs slowly. “Hope they’re okay,” he tells Roxie at her mention of her parents.
Elisabeth holds up both hands in surrender to the officer in question. "There are a great many young people in this town sleeping rough and who don't have fantastic documents due to growing up in the rural areas, officer," she points out quietly. "But I won't get in the way of your job." This is, after all, not in the purview of SCOUT. Once they're in booking, it's between the lawyers. She casts an apologetic look at Roxie. "Sorry." She's willing to attempt to ease their way through the process because it also involves her de facto brother-in-law, but she's not going to throw her weight around down here.
The officer who was talking to Liz gives Roxie a long side-eye when she restates her case. It’s a look that drones yes, I heard you the first seventeen times. She glances at Liz briefly before stating somewhere between her and Roxie, “If we’re lucky, maybe the on-call picks you up tonight. Might spend the holiday not in juvi.” And that’s the most she can do. She starts off again after that, knowing it’s not going to be well-received, but also knowing there’s little else to do about it at the moment.
Agent Cranky makes his way over to the group with the reluctant officer, and has no trouble voicing, “Mister Khan?” while looking right at Shaw. “Could you come with me, please?”
The disgruntled man opposite Roxie is the next dragged away for booking next, and which leaves the remaining members of the group sitting quietly as they each await their turn to be processed. The din of the other noises in the police station takes the foreground for some time, but it’s barely enough to drown out Roxie’s thoughts. She tries to combat it by bouncing her heel aggressively against the ground.
They come for her last.
“Miss Lopez? Roxanne?” A wiry man asks on approach, blinking at her from behind glasses she thinks are too large for his face.
At least they got her name right.