Participants:
| Scene Title | The New Guy |
|---|---|
| Synopsis | Murdoch pops in for his first day on the job. |
| Date | January 15, 2009 |
Considering the chaos that was yesterday, the morning here at the precinct has been almost preternaturally quiet. Elisabeth is sort of waiting for the other shoe to drop. Uniforms have been giving her a bit of wide berth today. Now she sits at her desk, dressed in a pair of black slacks and a dark purple blouse with her shoulder rig exposed because her blazer is resting on the chair back behind her, studying a computer screen.
The relative calm and cleanliness of the precinct can only seem natural to a newcomer, or if not natural, than indicative of a strangely orderly status quo. Even forensics labs have a serious hussle to them, with papers piling and results jammed onto increasingly labored clip-boards. Of course, it has been a long time since Vincent Murdoch was in a police station and, as he steps into the hallways from the chilly street outside, wrapped in a grey peacoat, matching brimmed hat on his head, he studies what he assumes must be the great leaps and bounds made by enforcement during his time… convalescing. He moves into the main offices, a briefcase in hand, scanning the desks. He spots Elisabeth and, for reasons all his own, moves over to her spot. He stands, so tall as to look 'at attention', and removes his hat. His eyes scan her nameplate. "Officer Harrison," he says, dipping his head, "Vincent S. Murdoch. Detective. First day," he glances about, formal appearance easing just a little, "Early spring cleaning, or has the department changed its outlook since I was in service?"
Elisabeth blinks and looks up, a bit confused at the introduction. But she moves to stand, offering a small smile. "Detective Murdoch. First day…. in the precinct? Welcome." She's uncertain of his standing, as she hadn't heard of a new officer. "Changed its outlook? How so?"
Murdoch extends his hand, offering it in a shake, "First day in this post and assignment," he says, "I've been off duty for some time, though," he indicates the top of his head, "My hair had already turned. I'm being unretired, so to speak," he offers a smile to go with the hand, "I mean the order, the neatness. I expected it to be a tumble of activity and clutter. Almost disappointed, really."
Elisabeth slips her hand into his, a nice firm handshake, and grins. "Nice to meet you, then, Murdoch. Liz Harrison." And then she laughs. "Uhm, no…. we just haven't been here all that long yet. And it's not like we're in the office much to clutter it up, either. So…" She shrugs. Glancing behind her as she takes her hand out of his grip, "I'm sure you can take over…. that one." She points to one of the desks that appears empty. "For all the use you'll get out of it. What brings you out of retirement, if you don't mind my asking?" She gestures in a 'make yourself at home' kind of movement.
"They said they needed 'experienced officers' to 'bolster the ranks'," Murdoch says, the quotes added only in tone, his handshake firm, "And perhaps that's not total bunk." He moves over to the indicated desk, setting his briefcase atop it and snapping open the pair of locks. He guides it open, revealing papers, pens, and the glowing orange of a prescription pill bottle. He glances over his shoulder at Elisabeth, "…I though your name sounded familiar. I believe we're in the same division, you and I," a small twitch of a smile at the corner of his mouth, "SCOUT. I wonder who is paid to construct clever acronyms. Or if perhaps there is a government committee assigned to the task."
Elisabeth smiles at him. "Well, if you're in THIS room, that's the only squad you *could* be part of." She gestures to the room, which is tiny for the number of desks they have crammed into it — it used to be a conference room — and says, "This is all ours. Captain Harvard's office is there," she points to the glassed-in office. "He's out on a call at the moment, though," she says. "I assume he's expecting you, though?"
"I should hope so," Murdoch says, "Small enough division, ought to be easy to keep track of," he begins to take his papers out, turning himself and his briefcase so that he can speak more easily with Officer Harrison as he arranges his things. He chuckles, "Forgive my ignorance when it crops up. I'm still not entirely sure how we fit into the grand scheme. What I've been told feels… well, rather SWAT too me. Which is confusing, as you're not about to get me to rappel down anything." He opens a desk drawer and deposits the pill bottle there. "Though obviously that is a gross simplification of this division's functions," he pauses, "/Our/ division," he amends.
Elisabeth tilts her head and says, "Wellllll….. SWAT is not a bad analogy, although it hasn't gone so well for us to model after that division so far. Dealing with Evolved is something like dealing with gangs, only they can shoot at you with guns *and* any number of other innovative things." She grins a little. "We sort of *don't* fit in the structure. We answer to Harvard, and he answers to Lau, and that's about it. We share precinct space, but the precinct captain is not in our CoC." She watches him, propping a hip on her desk and crosses her arms. "So… do I dare ask what you're medicating for? Just in case it becomes relevant?"
Murdoch is ordering his pens with not-inconsiderable care, lining them next to a leather folder that looks like it may have dropped out of an earlier era. This last touch seems to be all the detective needs. He closes his briefcase and sets it behind his desk. He smiles at the question, "Ah. I suppose so, yes," he says, "One moment." He unbuttons his peacoat and slips it off, laying it over the back of his chair, "There. The pills. Amisulpride. It helps with the condition that forced my retirement. It won't be an issue, though. As long as I have them around to take."
Elisabeth nods slowly. "And at the risk of being nosy…. if you collapse in front of me and don't have them on you, what should I do? Cuz I'd hate for you to die on my watch or something cuz I'm ignorant, Detective Murdoch."
Murdoch chuckles softly, "A pat on the back will be the most you can do. And patience," he says, "It's nothing fatal. The body is as able as time has left it," he taps his temple, "It's the real stuff of my being that gives me trouble. But I assure you, do not worry," he smiles, "I would never want a lady to distress herself over my welfare." He manages to make this sound chivalrous, though chivalry is still sexism with a pleasing voice.
Elisabeth nods. "All right, then," she replies easily. "So, tell me, Detective… now that you are going to be our voice of experience on the force… did you miss being on active duty?" She smiles. His chivalry will be taken at face value. If he ever shows her sexism, she'll show him what it means to get verbally swatted into next week. But she's not one of those rabid women. She doesn't have to be, confident in her own ability to do her job. Well… usually. "How long have you been away?"
"Four years," Murdoch answers, with an incline of his head, as if to say 'yes, quite a while', "I missed it a great deal. I missed living my own life," he brushes the front of his shirt, a button up with tight, thin blue and white lines, "And I missed having a life of significance to others. Being a patient is difficult. There is something helpless about a person who is to be asked nothing but to receive care."
That makes her pause a moment, and the Elisabeth nods. "Yeah… I've been stuck in the hospital a bit lately myself, so I understand." She glances at the clock and says, "My partner, Darius Johnson, should be in shortly, so you should be able to meet him. In the meantime…. is there anything I can do for you? Answer any questions, fill you in, that kind of thing? Has the captain assigned you a partner yet?"
Murdoch shakes his head, "No. I'm very fresh faced indeed," he says, with a lopsided smile, "I ask you only this: what does a new recruit need to know about SCOUT? What few things should he have in mind above all else?"
Elisabeth phews and raises both of her eyebrows. "Erm…. well… " And then she laughs. "I don't even know where to start, honestly. I'm still sort of learning the ropes myself. Only been here about a month, and Darius just got here about two weeks ago. We're all pretty much flying by the seat of our pants. The captain and Mack, his partner, mainly will tell you 'we don't have a book… we're writing it as we go.' So… if you see something procedurally that could be done better, I guess you should say something. If you have an idea during an after-action report on how things might have gone better, tell the captain. Dealing with Evolved criminals is something that has to be done, and it's gonna keep on being seat of the pants by dint of the sheer volume of powers out there, but… " She shrugs. "It's a lot of learning by trial and error right now."
Murdoch 's mouth forms a thoughtful line as he listens. He gives a single nod. "In a way I'm glad to hear it. To fall back into old patterns, calcified habits…" his lips curl into a smile, "The seat of the pants is a good place to fly from. Comfort is the last thing we need when the world's on the edge," he smoothes his tie, "The moment we can afford to be at our ease is the moment we ought to disband, all of us."
Elisabeth's gaze on him is thoughtful, and she smiles. "I think I'm gonna like you, Murdoch." She gestures to the computer on his desk and rolls her eyes. "Tell you what, you should have all your login information in your packet. Go ahead and check out the pages for the updates from the last few days' reports while I finish typing my report for the captain, and then I'll show you around a little, okay?" She gets up off the corner of the desk and heads back to her chair to let him get settled in while she finishes the report that she knows Will's gonna have her head for.
Murdoch dips in a small bow, "I hope I'll fulfill that expectation," he says, "And will endeavor to," he lifts the folder up, opens it, extracts a stack of papers, "Login… hmmm…" he says, "I hope technology has not sped too far ahead while I've been away from the world," he smiles up at Elisabeth, "My thanks. With your help, I might just be able to hit the ground running, rather than just hitting the ground."
 January 15th: Said The Spider |
 January 15th: Fixer-Upper |