Participants:
| Scene Title | FUCK DA PO-PO |
|---|---|
| Synopsis | Dante ruins his chances for a second date. |
| Date | October 22, 2010 |
On the road to Marjorie's apartment
The pounding beat of the club is silenced, and the ear-numbing cracks of gunfire have ceased, only to be replaced by the panicked clamor of people outside the club, being hemmed in by police. Despite their escape from the confines of the crime scene, no one is home free, yet. The police are managing to hem people in, asking for ID and searching pockets.
Dante must have some balls, because he takes Marjorie (more gently this time) by the arm and marches right up to a frazzled-looking lady police officer, who puts up a hand to stop him.
"Sir, I'm going to have to ask you to step back. We'll get to you event—"
The officer is interrupted as Dante pulls out his wallet, flashing an ID card at her. "Carlos Dante Lupinetti, Homeland Security. I'm taking this woman home." The officer looks surprised and has to give that ID badge a second look before nodding, though she turns a stern look to Marjorie. "Advance to my colleague over there…" She gestures to a man patting down people. "And show him both your IDs, then you can go."
And now Marjorie is downright terrified. Her date is DHS? How DARE he!! But for the moment, all she can do is stare up at Dante with wide, green eyes. "You're…government?" She asks, and there is clearly a strong fear and…well almost loathing in her tone, even as he escorts her to the next checkpoint. Dante may well have just blown this date by flashing his ID around.
At the next checkpoint, Marjorie fumbles in her purse - she managed to hold onto it - and shows her drivers license. It fits everything, she's perfectly legitimate. But all the while, she seems flaberghast by Dante's very existence.
Dante glances over at Marjorie at her question, giving a noncommital shrug, as if being in one of the most powerful governmental bureaus ain't no thang. "You could say that." He swallows at the look she's giving him, and heaves a low sigh. Yeah, this date is a flop. "C'mon, let me get you home safely."
At the next checkpoint, the officer glances at their ID, frowning in brief surprise to see a federal badge flashed his way from Dante, but he just takes Marjorie's without question, and swipes it through a handheld cardreader. The two are directed to hold out their arms as he quickly pats them down, and Marjorie's purse is rummaged through before being handed back to her. "Go on." The officer's quick and terse. He has a lot of people to get through tonight.
The whole time, Dante carefully doesn't meet Marjorie's stare, looking perhaps a little ashamed.
The whole thing is a little bit of a violation, in Marjorie's opinion. She terses a bit as the guard starts to pat her down, and visibly frowns as he goes through her purse. "I'm not contagious or anything," she says, as though the whole thing makes her a little bit bitter. But they're waved on, so on they go. The two of them. Together. Which is now super awkward.
Still, she can't stare forever, and soon the agent and the woman in the rumpled dress are making their way to the car, quickly, Marjories heels click-click-clicking on the pavement as they go. She wants to be away from here. Already she has her cell phone out. And she puts it to her ear. "Owain? Yes, it's mommy. Are you alright? Did anyone come in and bother you, did Mrs. Phillips have to answer the door for any reasons, get any phonecalls? No? No it's fine, you don't have to. I'm glad you thought of it though. No, go back to watching your program dear. I love you too."
Neither the officer or Dante try to excuse their actions, just opting to get things over with.
As they head off, Dante has his hands in his pockets, eyes on the ground as they head towards the car. The phone call gets him to look up, blinking with a curious frown to the woman beside him. They've gotten to his car by the time her phone call ends, and he opens the passenger side for her. "Worried?" he asks, trying to be as casual as possible, as his pale eyes trace over Marjorie's face, scrutinizingly.
"Yes," Marjorie says, frankly, openly, honestly. She slides into the car, careful to gather her skirt around her so she doesn't flash too much leg. She flashes a little, but she doesn't pull a Brittney Spears or anything. "I think what happened tonight makes it pretty obvious that government officials are not always in it for the good of the public." And that's particularly true of DHS, she thinks to herself, but that's the only punch she pulls. "Thank you," He did open the door for her, and Marjorie isn't the sort to let a gesture go unthanked. But now she seems almost tense or nervous, as though she's about to be interrogated.
Dante frowns deeply at Marjorie's remark. "Excuse me?" But he only stares in disbelief at her for a moment before shaking his head and closing the door behind her. In silence, he makes his way to the driver's side, keys jangling as he slides in. The Audi rumbles to life with the turn of a key and he turns towards Marjorie…but only to throw an arm over the back of her seat, head craning back as he pulls out of the parking lot.
"If I recall, it was the fellows with guns hopped up on coke who first shot into the crowd. I can't imagine they're any less to blame," Dante says, not meeting Marjorie's gaze.
Which is good, because she's not meeting his. She's just staring ahead, or occaionally down at her lap. "They're not. They're just as much to blame. But they don't pretend to protect the populace. They're bad, cruel men through and through, but they aren't the ones that have access to registration databases or keep secret prisons on taxpayer payroll." She glances at him, just once. Green eyes catching the light of another car pulling out opposite them, making them shine brightly for just a split second. "Should I be expecting any charges or concerns over the use of my ability?"
Dante's look of concern he flashes to Marjorie is mixed with…yes, a little sympathy and perhaps a little guilt. Silently, he turns forward and pulls the two of them out onto the road. In the glow of the headlight, his strong jaw works quietly, chewing on some silent thoughts. One of his fingers taps at the steering wheel.
Her question gets a brief glance before Dante's eyes are back on the road again. "It's really none of my business. I'm off-duty," he says flatly, "Though you might be called in and questioned about interfering with police business. … You also might have saved lives, so that could act in your favor."
Another glance is turned Marjorie's way, and his hard expression softens. "… I used to be in the NYPD. The first priority of the NYPD is upholding the law. Then protecting the lives of the officers. Then protecting the lives of everyone else. You might have prevented some police fatalities with that stunt. And civilian fatalities as well, who knows?" He knows, though apparently he's not telling.
She finally turns to look at him. She does look a little bit dissapproving, and still a little …. scared. But she seems to be a little but of a hard-ass herself, so she keeps talking. "DHS is a large leap from NYPD. Congratulations on your promotion." She looks back to the road a minute, watching the street-lamps go by as they putz along through the city. But her own expression has softened, more to fear than to anger.
"I won't appear," she says, as though defending herself already. "If they call me in. After what I did, with everyone seeing it, I'm nto walking into a government facility where they're all expecting me. I…I'm not." She is afraid.
There's the briefest flash of contempt on Dante's face as she mentions his promotion, but he quickly schools his expression back to a placidly thoughtful one.
Marjorie's latter claim gets a look of plain surprise from Dante though, and he blinks over at her, his pale eyes wide. "What? … Why? You realize that's a good way to get a warrant put out for your arrest, don't you?"
"Because for all I know I'll never walk out again. You're government - you should know. People that they want to dissappear, do dissapear. I'm…that's not going to happen to me." Marjorie goes quiet now, looking down at the purse on her lap. That fear is on her face ,and a little bit of saddness too. Perhaps there is some memory back in there, some experience that is calling all this out. But then she looks at him again. "I'm sorry if I've snapped at you," But she overs no explination.
Dante's brows come down again, and Dante frowns deeply, apparently baffled by this take on bureaucracy. "And you think that they want you to disappear? Instead of just asking you a few questions?" At her apology, he shakes his head, still looking baffled. "It's been a stressful night."
There's one way that this argument can be one. For a moment, Marjorie shifts a little bit in her seat, uncomfortably. But she speaks up. Hell, he's government - if he wants to know, he'll know anyway. "My brother was removed to an undisclosed holding facility 10 years ago. We never heard back from him." She had to go find him herself. But that part goes unsaid. "Owain is his son, not mine, but I raised him after my brother was taken. It happens. I've seen it happen, and I've seen what happens to the people and lives left behind."
Dante frowns at that, the gears turning slowly over that new information. His jaw muscles work in his neck, as he physically chews on that information. "Huh. Well, I'm sure if the government wanted you to disappear," he says, and his mouth quirks into a small smile at his dark joke, "It would have happened already, hmm?" His fingers drum against the steering wheel before he hangs a louie, carrying them smoothly onto a side street, close to Marjorie's home.
Marjorie looks out her own window now. "It doesn't mean I'm going to help them do it." But that seems to be enough for her to let the subject drop. As they approach her apartment, her hands settle on her lap. She seems to have calmed, relaxed a little, even if her hair is still skeweed and there's the smear of dance floor dirt on her cheek. "Dispite all this…I was having a good time tonight. And you were exceptionally brave. I may be distrustful of government and it's tentacles, but I can still recognize when someone did something very good, and may have saved my life in doing so." She sighs, looking down again.
Dante can't help but smile a little, and he gives a nervous chuckle at that compliment. "Just doing my job, ma'am," he murmurs quietly. No comment on if he enjoyed the night or not.
The car shimmies up close to the curb before coming to a stop before Marjorie's apartment building, and Dante climbs out his side of the car, coming around to open the passenger door and help his date to her feet. "I think this is you, if I remember right."
At his little retort, Marjorie glances over with a look of faux displeasure overshadowed by amusement. If she were a different kind of woman, he might even hear her say something like the following: Well aren't you a little shit. But she doesn't, instead she peers out the window and nods. "This is close enough, yes," she agrees, and soon she is being helped out of the car. Again, she is very careful to try and keep some of her legs covered on the trip upward. "Thank you," she says as she rises, stepping aside for him to close the door.
When Marjorie's legs swing out, Dante's eyes swing upwards, and he takes her hand to help her up. With that offer of support, he leads her towards her front door in silence. A cold breeze blows in from the street, biting through the thin fabric of their outfits, and Dante shivers…then curses, glancing back to his car. "We left our coats back at the club."
Marjorie smiles over at the man as they walk to the door. "I still have our coat-check ticket, if they'll still be there when they open the club again." The woman smiles, her lips no longer so painted as they were earlier in the night, but her dimples still as bright as though they were freshly applied. "If you'd like, my father has a nasty habbit of sending his old clothes for Owain to wear someday, I must have two boxes of the stuff I had to move. I could loan you a jacket or something, if you needed." She pauses by the door, waiting for him to answer.
"No no, that's alright," Dante says, "I can take the ticket and pick up our coats sometime tomorrow."
Here they are, at the front door. Awkwardly, Dante turns towards Marjorie, looking down into her…admittedly very cute face. Those dimples catch his eyes, and he smiles. "So, this is you, then." That's the protocol for ending a date, again? Besides the kiss, of course. Dante bites at his bottom lip as he racks his brain.
Marjorie offers the ticket over to him. "That would be very kind of you. I have almost back-to-back lessons tomorrow," she explains, and then her hands fall, clasping her purse gently in front of her. She looks up at him as well, green eyes and dimples and smiling lips, and she seems more relaxed now. She is a woman after all, and his discomfort, while she is aware of it, amusees her a little. Still, she's not a sadist, and she won't let him stew for long. "Yes, this is me. And thank you again for a very….let's go ahead and file this night under 'interesting', shall we?" And for his sanity, she'll kiss him.
She only means it to be a quick peck of a thing, nothing that might make him too uncomfortable. At the same time, it's not forceful, so if he wants to pull back, explode forward, or anything in between, he'll be perfectly able to.
"Interesting is a good word to…use." Dante falters as Marjorie leans up towards him and, after a moment's hesitation, leans down to meet her halfway, accepting her kiss against his smooth cheek. He smells of a deep, musky cologne that's just barely lingering after the night out.
There's no exciting action from Dante, no snatching her up passionately in his arms, or pushing her away. Instead, he straightens after that peck with a softer smile, nodding to Marjorie. "Well, good night, then." And he turns away, retreating towards his car.
"Good night," she says, turning toward the door. She unlocks the door, and then the deadbolt - the one she insisted that they put on the door - and she glances back once over her shoulder, tempered between fear and…possibly enjoyment. Nervousness taints the whole thing though, and soon she's stepping inside and closing the door.
She gets only a good view of Dante's broad back, covered in that dark blue jacket and pants. He moves at a quick clip away from her front door, quietly letting out a breath. Time to head back to the scene of the crime. He has some eyes and ears to lend to the police, as well as some information. Whether it's new to the police or not, that's what he aims to find out.