|Location||NYPD - New York|
|Summary||Vega and Irene catch up on work, mutant town, and boys. A background check may have been run.|
Wheels squeak on the floor of the Mutant Affairs Department office as Vega wheels back and forth in her chair, feet hooked on her desk like a tether. A cold cup of coffee sits perched on her desk, half finished with a inky thumbprint on it. It would be annoying if there weren't more than a handful of people in the office and she weren't keeping it in short motions. "I hate this case," she says mournfully to her partner, looking up from her tablet. "Actually, I hate that we haven't found this asshole."
Correction: It would be /more/ annoying. "Alright," Irene announces, suddenly, in the wake of Vega's complaining. "Time to get coffee." She puts her own tablet down and stands up from her desk without any fanfare. "Everyone hates this case," she finally replies to her partner.
Obviously assuming that decisive declaration /includes/ her, Vega drops her feet from her desk with a heavy thud. "Fine," she agrees. Her tablet is set down far more gently than her feet. Grabbing her cold coffee, she takes a sip and then winces. "Fuck." Crinkling her nose, she leads the way to the kitchen. "Yeah. I mean, things went better at the Sloppy Pony than anticipated... the owner was helpful." It's just. Sighing, she rubs her thigh in a brief massage. "Well, other than the werewolf it went fine."
That declaration does include Vega, in that coffee is a pretense for making her partner go take a walk. You know, before she ends up chewing something up like a puppy with more energy than it knows what to do with. "Nope," is all Irene says when Vega heads for the kitchen, neither changing her direction or pausing to let the other catch up. She is going outside. "I haven't had a lot of luck with tips." She lets that sit for a moment. "I know that place is a little rough, but werewolves seem a bit much."
Vega's boots squeak as her partner reroutes, leaving her about facing to bound after Irene like a puppy. She follows, catching up with long strides that may be just a touch enhanced. "Didn't you say someone took your card?" Mouth hooked, she tilts her head in at her partner. "Eh. No." A hand is waved, dismissing the idea that there were /guard wolves/ or something. "It was that same one I brought in. Barnes? After animal control called it in. He decided to get all pissy with me about territory like he'd been in the city for more than a day. I thought he was going to pee on something right there and then."
"Yeah. Kids getting hurt will motivate just about anyone." This is said with a bit of grit, but it's true. Irene exits the police station, holding the door open behind her for her partner and steps out onto the busy sidewalk. It's not peak hours, but it's busy enough still. "It's always something," she remarks with a weary sigh, in regards to territorial wolfmen. "If he pees on anything I'm arresting him for real." That's just gross.
"Worked for the owner," Vega offers nonchalantly, sliding a hand into her pocket. Her tone is too mild. It sits just as poorly with her. Bounding after Irene, she flashes her a quick smile for the politeness. Thanks! "No kidding..." Shaking her head, she tucks a pink strand of hair behind her ear. "Cracks me up how the guy thinks he's defendant of mutant town after just arriving. The city is going to eat him alive." The curl of her lip says /just/ what she thinks about him peeing on things.
Irene tucks her hands in her pockets, looking more casually at ease than she really is. "Hm, he's hardly the first to think he's Mutant Town's personal defender." They get... a lot of crap from people, mutants and humans alike. "As long as he stays out of the pound and doesn't pee on every corner, I don't care." As long as he's out of sight he can be out of mind as far as she is concerned. Mostly. "What a hick." Sounds a little funny coming out of her mouth.
"Not it next time his dog tags get his ass brought in." Very mature. Not it-s. Vega waves a hand with a roll of her eyes. She snerks at her partner's oh so eloquent turn of phrase. "Yeah." The pair of them cut a neat path around them on the street as they continue down the street.
"Mature," Irene drawls with a sideways look at Vega, but doesn't argue. Fine, she will take the next turn with wolfboy. "You can do the next parent teacher conference, then." Not really. "Tempting to just let animal control haul him out to the woods, though." She's just /saying/. She wouldn't /do/ that. Probably. Regrettably that would probably be kidnapping.
It doesn't take long to get to the coffee shop, just down the block and around the corner, the place small and local, catering mostly to carry-outs rather than eat-ins. Irene holds this door open too, although she lets Vega proceed her into the coffee shop. There is little in the way of a line greeting them, the rush hour long over, and only a few people are around.
"Very." So mature. Vega grins slowly and with a mild sort of mischief, offering a chipper, "Happily," at the thought of her doing the parent-teacher conference. "Your son is smart enough, we'll get him bumped up a grade." Idris will not thank her for that. "Seriously." They wouldn't do that though. They are responsible cops.
Nodding at Irene, Vega lopes ahead of her into the queue. Sliding a hand into her pocket, she tips her head at her partner. "What do you want? It's my turn to buy." Coffee trade-offs. Fidgeting with a bounce to her heels, she checks her phone far less surreptitiously than she thinks she is. She had been checking it all day.
"Medium coffee. Dark," Irene answers promptly, then reconsiders and adds to that order a second later like she doesn't want to admit it, "Little bit of whip." Her expression does not invite judgement on that. Silence follows, until she breaks it finally with a blunt, "Are you waiting for something?" You need to move up in line. Also, checking your messages has gotten much more subtle in the last decade, but it's still not invisible. "We'll get an alert if anything happens with the case."
"Ah. Yeah." There is no judgement for surreptitious whipped cream. Vega doesn't judge. Particularly as her order is enough to give someone a mild heart attack, "Vanilla latte with soy and a triple shot of espresso, please," she requests quickly, the pace of her words at a New York strut. Ordered and paid, she moves over to the waiting area, glancing up at Irene with a wry smile. "I am waiting for a boy to call. Like I am in junior high or some shit." It isn't work related. "Honestly, work calling with an alert would be greatly preferred."
"Are you sure you need a triple shot?" Irene, on the other hand, judges. She judges hard, eying her partner with unveiled concerns. Not all of the concerns are for Vega. How much walking is she going to need to do to calm down after that? The expression lingers on her face for a bit, even when they move to the waiting area. Then it shifts a little, her brows raising a touch, which is like a silent 'go on'. "No one is worth checking your phone for that much," she points out.
"Yes." Vega is very certain in her choices. Sliding her arms down behind her back, she winds her fingers together with a pop of her shoulders. It will be fine. She is fidgeting less at the moment. "Probably not. I don't even know if I want to go out with him if he does call?" This is admitted with a shrug of her shoulders at her partner, hand tipping from side to side. "He was kind of refreshing though. Flirty, but refreshing."
"Okay, but don't break your chair rolling around in it when we get back to the station," Irene warns in that way where the subtext says 'I am not saving you from the consequences'. Because she's a great partner like that. "You are checking your phone a lot for not knowing if you even really want a call," she points out. The description she can't quite parse the meaning of. "Oh?"
"Yes, sir." Vega… Vega salutes, like a smart ass. Irene is not really the kind of woman to save someone from the consequences of their own mistakes. "It's been awhile since anyone asked me for my number." Hands in her pockets, she leans back on her heels. "Yeah. Not a flinch at the whole 'cop' thing. So that was kind of refreshing, even if he was a bit pushy? I have a suspicion he's younger than I am." A shoulder lifts in a shrug. Whatever.
Irene rolls her eyes. Smart ass. "That's probably because everyone assumes you're in high school." Which probably does happen, if not as much as she is making it seem at the moment. Some jokes are long running, though. "Maybe he's just excited you already come with handcuffs," she says with a perfectly straight face. "Do you have Pushy's name?"
Standing straight and tall and official as she can, Vega flashes an unamused look at her partner. "No they don't." Yes, yes they often do. It is a lasting joke, along with short jokes. Sputtering, she shakes her head with her ears turning almost as pink as her hair. "No!" Maybe? "That is not the case." Irene earns a gentle shove. "Yeah. It's Finn." There is a pause before she adds, "McLowry." Since Irene will just interrogate it out of her.
It's a lasting joke, so Irene doesn't feel the need to refute Vega out loud. She just gives her a small, nearly invisible smile. Yes they do. The expression quirks in a more distinct smirk as Vega sputters. But what she says is, "You'd be surprised." It is not said with amusement. She hardly budges when shoved. "Unless you already asked." Probably not. "I might need you to spell that later." Ominous.
Sighing audibly (and pointedly) Vega rolls her eyes like the teenager that she purports not to be at all. It is a little overdramatic for how she actually feels. A brow lifts at Irene's comment, the tips of her ears remaining as pink as her hair. "I think they just called our order…" She offers, heading up to the front just before the electronic speaker in the cafe audibly announces it. Her timing is perfect and their coffee is collected before it can be set down on the counter. "Please tell me you're not going to do a background check on a guy I haven't even gone out with yet?" Is requested as Irene is brought her coffee and Vega is already two sips into her own. Please.
"Careful, they'll roll right out of your head," Irene warns, a Mom scolding her Teenager. Their coffees being ready can't really save Vega because it only stalls the conversation, it doesn't really derail it. It does stop being about handcuffs, though. At least obliquely. "It isn't helpful to do a background check after you've already gone out with him," she points out, which is neither a 'yes' or 'no' answer.
"You know that is a physiological impossibility then, right?" Vega calls back over her shoulder, escaping to collect their coffees. It does stop being about handcuffs. That is enough for her ears to return to a more human color by the time she has returned. "He did challenge me to do one." This is admitted after another sip of coffee, while they wind their way towards the door. "It just seems rude. Is an internet search not enough? He'd have to call me anyways." And he hasn't.
"The mouth on you." Irene just shakes her head. She puts up with a lot more mouth from Vega than she would an actual teenager. "That's weird," she says, sounding genuinely confused for the first time in this conversation. "Maybe he's very proud of not getting caught for crimes." She is speculating. Heavily. "So don't be rude. I'll be rude." Which she has no problems of moral twinges with being, apparently.
"You like it when I talk science to you." Vega bats her lashes at her partner. Hey. Idris would never be able to be quite as mouthy as Vega is. Most of the lip that goes Irene's way tends to be playful, at least. "Or self-assured that he has done nothing wrong and has nothing to worry about? Technically twenty-something year old males do tend to think they are immortal and unchangeable," she remarks with a lift of her lip. There is another roll of her eyes. "Irene." Ruffling a hand through her hair, she holds the door open for her partner. "You're going to check regardless of whether I protest or not...aren't you?" Shouldn't have said his last name.
"No, I don't understand it when you talk science to me," Irene corrects, which is partially true. Vega does spout some very technical science at times. "Have you ever known a twenty-something," she waves, meaning 'or about that age', "guy who hasn't ever done anything wrong?" She does otherwise nod at the assessment of that age. "Thanks, she murmurs, walking out the door while sipping her coffee. "Pretty much."
Flashing Irene a brilliant smile, Vega offers, "I know. I am bettering your vocabulary by the minute." With science. Or at least overly technical, isolated science. "Wrong? No. Illegal? Yes. People don't just go out and commit crimes willy-nilly, Reenie." This point is made with a gesture of her cup. At least not all people. At the admittance, her sigh is audible and really more of a groan than a sigh. "Just… Only tell me if there is something wrong." Since there is no stopping her.
"Crime scene would still rather talk to you." Because Vega can actually talk the talk and Irene just knows enough to do her job--and maybe a little more after years of being partnered with Vega. "People commit crimes all the time without really thinking about it. Drunk driving, trespassing, drugs...jaywalking." Okay, the last is a joke. "You and I know how quietly mutant abilities get used sometimes too." That is not a joke. But it also may not be relevant. She has no idea. "How wrong is wrong?"
"That's because I occasionally remember to bring them coffee." Vega can talk the talk well enough, but it isn't a major point of pride. The coffee does help sweeten their temperaments. "Ah… Jaywalking. The most felonious of crimes," she teases with a laugh that is large enough to cast wrinkles at the corners of her eyes. "We do." That sobers her, softens her, even if it may not be relevant. "Shit. I don't know. Actual criminal record? No jaywalking or speeding tickets." Shaking her head, she sips at her coffee.
"There is that," her partner agrees with a tip of her head, then takes a sip of the coffee, silently savoring it. "It is easy to do," says multiple jaywalking committer Irene. Among other things. But none of those things are on /her/ record, either. The sobering is enough, she doesn't belabor the point. "How about overdue library books?" The worst of crimes. That does not show up in police records. Which they both know. "How little about Pushy do you want to know?"
Having fallen silent for a span of sets, Vega snerks and almost sputters on her coffee. "You'd be checking more than backgrounds for that." Overdue library books. "Are you going to go to the branch for it?" Excuse me - I need to see if this young man has any overdue fines. "I don't know." Wordlessly, she lifts her shoulders in a shrug. "It's not a big deal. He probably won't call. All hypotheticals."
"I think I'd have to check my own background." She's pretty sure she doesn't have anything overdue /now/, but it has happened. "Too many branches. That's a lot of legwork." Though she could probably narrow it down. "Uh-huh." Irene leaves it at that for a time that is long enough it seems like she's dropped the conversation entirely. But no. "I'm going to tell you something I read every time you check your phone."
Vega is more than content to let it rest as they walk back to their HQ, occasionally sipping her coffee. She is mid motion to check her phone again as Irene speaks, sputtering a little. "/That/ is evil," she accuses, tossing her pink hair back over her shoulder. "And unnecessary."
"It's clearly not unnecessary," Irene points out dryly, slanting a look over at Vega. She can see you checking.
"I could have been checking Facebook," Vega counters, stepping to hold the Department door open for Irene. That happens. Sometimes. Except she hates Facebook.
"Were you checking the Facebook?" Irene asks even though she assumes she knows the answer already. She nods and once back inside the station says, "I'm running that name now."
"The Facebook?" That is not really answer the question, Vega. "It was hypothetical." Really. "At least run it when I'm not sitting next to you," Vega requests, following her partner like a puppydog. Again. Come on, Irene.
"I don't have one," Irene says like that prevents her from knowing how to say its name. "Hypothetically you've checked your phone more times today than I think I did the entire time I was married." This is probably untrue, but it seems for a moment like she just might be enough of a dinosaur about tech for it to be true. "Don't look over my shoulder," she counters without any signs of remorse.
"That doesn't mean you get to escape proper nouns," Vega counters with a quip. "Also I know for a fact that that is bullshit." She wags her finger at her partner. No telling lies. "You just tried to be really sneaky." Tried. At the counter response to her request, she just sighs. "You are going to be worse than this when Idris starts dating, aren't you?"
"Nouns use 'the'." No, she does not get to escape proper grammar. "You checking my records, Zhang?" Irene slants a look over at her partner that is a bit of a challenge. Yeah? You have proof of that? "At least I tried." Unlike some people. "What? No," she answers quickly. A little too quickly. After a beat she admits. "No, I'm going to be worse."
"Don't need to, Atwell. Eyewitness reports." Vega taps just below her own eye in demonstration, laughing a little at Irene's slanted features. She saw it with her own two eyes, Lady. "Point taken." Her fingers splay out in the air, hands up and off of electronics. Well… one of them does. Her other one is still holding the coffee cup. "You really, really are." Grinning, she lightly slaps Irene on the back. "Arlight. Back to work with both of us.""Eyewitnesses are often unreliable," Irene reminds. "They remember things incorrectly all the time." True, but not true enough in this case to matter. "Ugh. I still have some years before that." Not as much as she'd like, though. "Right, work," she says seriously, with every intention to get back to it. But she can multitask.