Participants:
| Scene Title | Kids Today |
|---|---|
| Synopsis | Curt and Vee do some pointless surveillance while getting to know one another. Curt shows off his hip knowledge of technology. |
| Date | June 16, 2009 |
Some street in Brooklyn.
Curt sits in the front seat of the Crown Vic and sighs, "I should buy my own car." he states idly. "Stop using this boring Company toss aways. They are made not to be comfy." he tosses a fry into his mouth and eyes Vee as she peers through the mini binoculars, "Tell me there's something to do out there. Doyle, April, Ghandi, Jesus H. Karate-Chop-Action Christ, I don't care who, but /something/ to do."
"If," Veronica says, reaching into the bag and bringing a fry to her mouth without looking away from the binoculars, "you are saying you want to do Doyle, you are one sick bastard, but if we see him, I'll be sure you get some alone time with him." She shakes head. "No, I see nothing. No sign of anyone really." She pulls down the binoculars and leans to peer into the bag. "Did they forget the ranch?"
Curt stares at the back of her head, "You know I'm armed right?" he says flatly. "No. I ate it." he shows her the almost completely empty packet. "There's a spare in there somewhere. I spilled com ketchup on it earlier. Check under the napkins." he steals the binocs from her and checks rooftops for spotters and random windows for movement. Nothing out of the ordinary.
"I hope you're armed, or we're out here for a drive and nothing else," she points out, rummaging in the bag and finding the little packet of ranch. "Thank god. I hate ketchup." She peels back the foil and reaches for another fry, dipping it into the creamy dressing. "Yeah, I looked there, she says with a little irritation, but leans back and eats a bit, now that he's watching the house.
Curt nods his head, "Of course you did." he says in a tone that suggests he doesn't believe for a second that she did. "You know, before the Company, stakeouts were done in the jungle and they, somehow, weren't this boring."
She leans her head back against the head rest, closing her eyes. "How long do you think we have to stay here and watch? Because if you're going to whine that it's boring the entire time, mister I have nothing but time on my hands, let's not and say we did…" she grumbles. Her undereyes are still bruised a lovely shade of lavender from where she hit him, but took the damage, the other day.
Curt snorts as he eyes her, "Well tell you what, you don't want me to whine then loose the top and gimme something other then a brownstone with nobody fucking in it to look at." he flips back at her. "That's it, another stake out and I'm bringing a gameboy." that's right, he's got one, what of it?
"You are so out of it. Kids today use a DS or even an iPod Touch," she retorts, but with a smirk. "I'm surprised you even know how to use the Gameboy to be honest." She munches a few fries, watching the house in question before glancing back at him. "It was your tip, anyway. It's not like this was my idea," she points out.
Curt nods his head, "I know. I also know Doyle's at least been here. I printed the hand rail next to the door. I figure any guy his size walks up those twelve steps is gonna lean on something when he goes to enter. Eighteen prints, one was a partial for our boy." he sighs, "So the tip was good, we just gotta wait for him to come /back/." Gonna be a long wait as the man in question has long since moved on. "DS, IPod… what is it with your generation? You can't use words you just have to toss initials into everything?"
"OMG, LOL. You are so funny. Can I be your BFF?" Veronica says drily as she pulls out her burger — he ate while she watched, now it's her turn. "I never even played video games until Magnes made me the other day, aside from those we had to play in school like… Typing Invaders or Oregon Trail, if you can call that a video game, for your information. I was always more of an activities kind of kid." She bites into her burger, making sure the paper bag covers her lap to avoid spillage. "So you glad to be off desk duty, or ready to head back to jockeyhood after being my partner?" she asks lightly.
Curt blinks at her and shoots her a look, "You know I /do/ watch Gossip Girl, I know what all those mean." Of course he does. "I've worked for the Company for two decades, I've done it all Princess, if I go back to the desk they'll pull me off the bench again when they have need of someone like me. Nature of the beast. Besides, I learned valuable skills while working the desk, I now know what /every/ form is for, how to fill them out, who to give them to, and then how to use that to my advantage. For instance, did you know I put my expenses on your account because I filled out the proper co-claims sheet?" he smiles, "Thanks for dinner by the way."
"Oh, you broke my secret code. What will I do?" she says, in very bad melodramatic deadpan. "And good to know, I'll be sure to file the same form and make sure that evens out. In my favor of course." She takes another bite of her burger, licking barbecue sauce off of her lips as she turns to look out the window again. "I've never been on desk duty, except when I was injured. What'd you do to piss them off, anyway?"
Curt nods his head, "Go for it, I already filed the exception forms from co-claims requests." he offers a cherubic grin, "Like I said, it's good to know your way around the red tape." he shakes his head, "Didn't do anything to piss them off. They needed someone like me down there to keep an eye on a potentially volitile situation, plus, they pull me from the pool of Agents every few years, so that people stop thinking about how I'm sucking their lives away and it lets everyone cool off. Like a preassure release valve. It's also why I've worked other nation's HQ's. It's not like Evo's are an America only problem."
"Mmmhmm. You sound like the crappy kid on the soccer team that they tell needs to only play half a game because 'we're working on the dynamics of other pairings and we need you to motivate the younger players while they're waiting to go in' or something," she says, picking up another fry and dipping it in the ranch before popping it in her mouth. "I was never that kid, mind you."
Curt chuckles, "I'm sorry, when I grew up we played real American games, not that borrowed shit from Europe. What the fuck is soccer and why are they subjecting children to it?" he reaches over to pluck up his soda and take a couple swigs.
"I played softball and snowboarded too," she points out. "Besides, what difference does it make where something originated, if it's fun? Geez. Next you're going to tell me you walked to school uphill both ways with no shoes in three feet of snow. Since you don't look like you're pulling Social Security, even if you could, you should quit acting like it, Lu." She picks up her own soda and takes a long pull of the straw.
Curt sips on his drink a little more, "Because I'm a Ranger, because I'm that guy that everybody hates that really truely believes that this country is better then any other nation on the planet, from the sports we play to the people we raise. As for school? No, my mom drove me to school in a 1957 Chevy Nomad that you could park this thing inside of." he grins, "I think I still have that car in a garage somewhere."
Veronica nods. "Well, that's fair, I guess. But not everyone else is inferior just because they were born after that car's made by date," she says quietly. "Just because you're old enough to be my father or hell, my grandfather, doesn't mean you need to disapprove of everything my generation does, right?" She turns her head to look at the other side of the street at the hint of some motion, but it's a very thin woman out walking a chihuahua. Definitely not Doyle.
Curt shakes his head, "I /said/ I watched Gossip Girl didn't I?" he points out, "Besides, you guys did some stuff right. Your video games are excellent, your athletes tend to perform better even if they do it with less heart. Homes are nicer, cars, better toys, more paranoid about health and saftey." he nods his approval, "Not all bad things, but not a lot of great ones either." he's quiet for a long moment before adding, "And you support your troops." which seems to soften his expression considerably.
"The troops are just doing their jobs. Any war, it's the government to blame if it's the wrong battle to pick," she says with a shake of her head. "Sorry that you had to go through crappy times in that way, anyway. Whether or not it was the right thing to do or not — people should have been happy once the boys got home." She looks back toward the house under surveillance to avoid looking at him during the rare "serious" chat.
Curt shakes his head, "My wife didn't believe that way." he says with a grin more rare then the conversation. "We met when she was throwing rocks and bottles at the recruitment station I ran when I got back to the states. My god you should have heard us fight. Lost more lamps that way." he shakes his head, "Firebrand from the get go. You'd have liked her, you two would have teamed up on me." he checks the look through the binocs again, "How long have we been on this place? Seven, eight hours? We might wanna consider dropping a Sit Team on the joint for a full days watch."
Vee chuckles at the description of his wife, then glances at the clock on the dial. "Well. Might as well get someone to reprieve us, anyway. I'll call it in — go ahead and nap if you want. I'll watch for a while," she says. "Once the other team gets out here we can call it a night. We'll have to be on call though, since they're not authorized for the case," she reminds him. "In case they get a hit, we'll have to get back here." She pulls out her cell phone, pushing the food bag to the ground as she dials.