Participants:
| Scene Title | Nice Hair |
|---|---|
| Synopsis | Liz and Mack chat. |
| Date | Nov 20, 2009 |
Gabriel MacNamara's Apartment, Chinatown
The apartment of one Gabriel Patrick McNamera isn't what most would expect of the one-time Detective. At least, not what anyone who had met the man lately would expect. The apartment is fairly small, though nicely furnished. Its mostly well kept second hand goods- a leather (or fake leather) couch, nice black metal and wood coffee table, tv stand, all the things you'd expect in a living room, really. The surprising thing is that even second hand the stuff isn't cheap; and its clean. No alcoholic crash pad here- its not spotless, but he picks up after himself anyway.
A few hours ago Mack had called Liz. It was something to do with questions about a lead or something he needed from inside the department- its hard to say for sure now, the damn woman took so long to get back to him. In fact he's completely forgotten he even called her; doesn't help that his cell phone is in the other room. See, he's pulled out his nifty guitar he's only recently started learning to play, and so there he lies on his couch. It isn't turned all the way up, but the setup is large enough to hear the slightly disjointed tunes from outside his door. Probably through his walls, too- how long before someone complains? Who knows. Mack doesn't. Doesn't care, probably. Things Of Note: he does not have a bottle or a beer nearby, just a cup of half drank coffee, and he is clean and dressed in his old Detective attire- nice jeans, a touch baggy, and a nice button up similarly slightly oversized.
She knocks. Several times, actually. And then calls, "MacNamara, open the door, ya slouch!" And when the door actually opens, Liz looks up at him and widens both eyes. "Damn, man…. nice hair." She snickers. "What the hell?" She walks past him into his place, and even hands over a small box of baked goods. Hey, never let it be said that she comes empty-handed. "So what's up?"
Mack reaches up to touch his pointed hair, which for once is actually done, and lets his eyebrows drop down to consider the woman. "Hey, fuck you too." The baked goods get an interested examination; one is removed and bitten. "I was making beautiful music, but then I was oh-so-rudely interrupted." He walks as he talks, making his way to the waist high amp near the couch. He hits the switch and the device shuts off with an electric whine, as if unready to be done. The guitar finds its place on a rack- the rack would hold six or seven guitars, but he's got just the one. "Oh, shit, thats right I called you. Um. I was gonna ask you somebody's number I wanted to get a hold of, but I can't remember his name. Something like Greenly, Greeny… you know, little on the heavy side, total Boston type."
"Already did that, thanks," Liz replies with a cheeky grin. "Was fun!" The brownies inside the bag were homemade and have lots of chocolate chunks in them too. "Doesn't ring any bells. Greeley? The only Bostonian that I know well is Daubrey. And he's a prick, but I like him anyway. He's had my back a few times. Used to be Ivanov's partner." She plops down on his couch without bothering to wait for an invitation, propping her booted feet on his coffee table. She's casual enough — jeans, leather jacket, cranberry T-shirt — and adds, "But no one named Greeley or Greeny or whatever is ringing a bell. Why?"
"Ahh, yes, I vaguely remember that. At least I remember your name, though…" Mack lets his mind drift for a moment before letting a smile crawl onto his face. A pleasant, secret kind of smile. Then he plops some more brownie into his mouth and chews merrily, waiting until he swallows before speaking. "Was looking into a lead that he might be working on something involving the chick I caught casing a bank a while back. No biggie, but I was curious." He sets the box down and makes his way into the kitchen, pulling out a carton of milk and pouring himself a glass in a tumbler. "Want some?" He asks when he walks back into the living room. For now he remains standing, though he puts one sock'd foot up on his coffee table.
"Asshole," Elisabeth retorts good-naturedly. "And no, thanks. Got a hot date with an IA dick tonight. But at least I'll get dinner out of it while he tries to screw me over." She tilts her head and studies him. "Casing a bank? Wouldn't happen to be some chick who can turn invisible or steal shit from right inside a locked case, is it? That'd make my life way too simple."
"IA dick. Fuck, Liz, what have you come to… I mean, I know I tend to be a hate-fuck or at least a frustration-fuck, but IA? Thats just desperate." Now Mack does sit down on the edge of the coffee table. "And no, not per se… though if I can track her down, and she could be talked into it, I imagine what she can do would make it easier for her even than Card, though. Unless maybe it had to be a ghost job, no one ever finds out type of thing."
Elisabeth flips him the bird. "I wouldn't fuck the IA dick if you paid me, man. That's all I need!" She snorts. "Rumor mill already has me fucking Will just to get on the squad; I don't need them running about with the bullshit rumor that I fucked my way out of an IA investigation. Christ!!" She rolls her eyes. "Tell me about your thief… what can she do?" She looks curious now.
Mack can't hold back a laugh, although it really isn't a funny matter at all. "S'how they think, man. Chick musta slept her way to where she's at. Can't be that she's good at what she does - hell, no. Anyway, that… look, I trust you Liz, I do, but I made a promise not to talk about it. Besides, I haven't been able to get a hold of her forever. Let me know what you got on your plate and if - if - I track her down, I'll ask her."
There's an easy shrug and Elisabeth leaves it along on that front. "That's cool, Mack. You know my line's always open for you. A promise is a promise." She rests her head back on his couch and studies him. There's a faint grin. "Seriously, Mack… nice hair." She giggles, she can't help it. "So tell me what the hell else you're filling your time with, since you dragged me over here to ask me about some guy you can't even remember the right name for."