Participants:
| Scene Title | Today I'm The Bug |
|---|---|
| Synopsis | IA pays Elisabeth a visit. |
| Date | Oct 11, 2009 |
Subways of Manhattan
It's barely the asscrack of dawn. It's a time of day that Elisabeth actually hates with a passion, and she's wiped out with all the physical labor going on down at the Municipal Building site. She managed to catch some sleep lat night, finally, and she's on her way in to the precinct to check her mail and other case files. Although the collapse is taking priority, she's not supposed to be letting everything fall by the wayside… somehow. She's on a different line than usual; staying at a friend's apartment in Greenwich Village. And as she exits the subway train near the precinct, Elisabeth's mind is already on the day ahead… and the likelihood that there will be more dead recovered than alive. Time is running out quickly for anyone still trapped. It technically ran out a day or two ago — the odds now are pretty high.
If Vincent likewise despises the asscrack of dawn, one wouldn't be able to easily discern as much from the business clip he falls naturally into upon coalescing from the span of nothing that previous existed at Liz's right hand. Empty space condenses and furls fluid in sooty black upon itself all in a liquid rush, leaving only a few stray tendrils of haze to eddy in their mingled wake by the time Det. Lazzaro is solid and offering his right hand over and open across himself — very nearly polite.
"Good morning, Harrison. I hope you don't mind my intrusion — I had assumed we could talk and walk at the same time." It all happens so quickly that only a few of those following are awake enough to register his sudden appearance. One of them balks and stumbles off in the other direction; the other two stare. He ignores all three, solid, trim and quite bald short of whatever's been shaved down to a nothing stubble dark around the back of his skull. His eyes are dark as well, pitch black behind wire-rimmed glasses. His half-smile is at least somewhat sincere.
Elisabeth herself is one of the balkers — she backpedals several steps and her hand instinctively falls to the weapon in her belt, waiting to see if the coalescing sooty cloud is a danger. Detective Lazarro is a stranger to her, and she stares at him warily. "That was…. probably not the wisest course of action in this town," she comments mildly, her hand finally coming away from her service weapon. "Can I help you?" She doesn't shake his hand, though, still uncertain of his identity.
"…Detective Vincent Lazzaro," offered out after an unsubtle pause, the man who was a cloud ten seconds ago allows the offer of his hand to lift into an awkward sort of wave instead. His fingers curl in slow upon themselves on their way to sweeping his suit lapel open enough to expose the badge gleaming on his belt and the glock seated black under his shoulder.
His eyes are just as black, currently riding the thin line between warily watchful and wearily skeptical beneath lowered brows. "I thought you might be expecting me. Is it often your first impulse to draw when you're alarmed?"
Elisabeth smiles faintly. "It's my first impulse to be prepared to draw," she corrects mildly. "Considering the state of things in the city right now — with Evos and Humanis First alike targeting both cops and public places — it seems prudent to be prepared for anything, don't you think?" She studies him and then says, "Was I supposed to be expecting you, Detective?" She gestures toward the stairs and comments, "Please, by all means, we'll walk."
"Fair enough," is allowed without rancor, and Vincent studies her right back in turn. Fortunately (?) his vanished half smile is on its way back to making a slow return, and he nods once along with her gesture on his way to falling back in step with her. To the stairs!
"I suppose that depends upon your views on inevitability. Karma, give and take. Whatever you're most comfortable with calling it — I apologize for the scare, by the way." He glances over at her sidelong when he says so, the weight of the brown briefcase (a few shades darker than the neutral threads of his suit) in his left hand hefted a bit before he starts up the stairs proper.
"It's all right," Elisabeth replies easily enough. "I'm personally very glad that you're a cop and not one of the crazies. Or…. well, at least as not crazy as someone choosing to be a cop in this town right now can be," she quips mildly. "So, Detective Lazzaro, what is it that I can do for you?" She herself is wearing far more casual clothing — just a pair of khaki slacks with deep green hoodie. She's heading to the Municipal Building site later, so she doesn't feel the need to dress as formally as he.
Early morning light glances crisp off the flat of Vincent's glasses as they near the first level area where sunlight has room to penetrate and he tilts his head in the kind of consideration that generally terminates in Nothing Good, for those familiar with such gestures. There's a buzz somewhere on his person — a cell phone, most likely, and he ignores it in favor of glancing over at her again before they start on the next set of stairs. Up, and up, and someone takes a cell phone picture of the back of his head as they go.
"Soon — very soon, in fact — I will be beginning a formal inquiry into some of the actions you've taken over the last year." Expected or not, he gives that a few seconds to settle before he continues with: "I know that you do not know me, and so have no reason to trust me at all, but I also know that you have a unique advantage when it comes to being certain that verbal exchanges are kept off the record. Right now," step, "I am offering you the opportunity to speak with me," step, "in private, on the level, about what has been going on with you. Entirely off the record. It's the only one you will get."
There's a long pause as Elisabeth assimilates that information. She was warned, so yes… she was expecting him. As they reach the top, she looks toward him and says, "So ask me what you want to know, Detective Lazzaro. The phrase 'what has been going on with me' covers a lot of territory."
"I know." And it sounds like he does, too. There's a flat certainty that defines everything from the line of his shoulders to the even, intrusive probe of his expression against hers, too awake for it to be as early as it is. "Which is precisely why I want to give you some time to think about how you intend to handle this." Shoulders squared to her up on the sidewalk with room for one or two people to thread between, he eventually lifts a brow.
"What I want to know is everything you don't want me to know. Or wish that I didn't. But if I were strictly interested in having your ass mounted on my wall, we wouldn't be having this conversation to begin with. A lot can happen in a year."
Whether he's referring to her own year or his is unclear, but the next step he takes is backwards: the onset of retreat. "You've had a rough week. Take some time — think about it. I'm stationed in Headquarters. If you decide you want to talk, ask for me. I'll leave my cell number with them if you need it."
Now that brings a faint frown to Elisabeth's face, blue eyes puzzled. "I find it interesting that you're approaching me about how I intend to handle your investigation, Detective Lazzaro — I'm not sure I have much to hide, but … I'll be in your office whenever you'd like me to be." She pauses. "Do you mind if I ask what exactly I've done that has brought me to IA's attention?"
"Consider it a cumulative concern. Commissioner Lau seems to be." Brows tipped up in near apology for his own vagueness, sincerity impossible to discern, he takes another step back and turns to go. "Have a nice day, Detective. I hope you find a few more live ones."
"Me too," Elisabeth replies quietly. Somehow she's not terribly surprised by the Commissioner's interest. Going to her over the bridge incident was a calculated risk. Might just bite her now. "I'll see you Monday or Tuesday, Detective Lazzaro," she says softly.