|Location||Sloppy Pony - Mutant Town - New York City|
|Summary||Vega visits Sierra's office. The cop and the owner of the Sloppy Pony enter into a quiet agreement.|
A KNOCKING. There's no immediate response for the knock at her 'office' door, but a loud thud can be heard upstairs, followed by a few clatterings, a muttered curse, and finally, some more thudding down the stairs concealed behind said door. Someone sniffs loudly, and the lock clicks open, one mussy-haired proprietor peeking her head around the door warily. "Yeah?"
The face that meets her is pink-eyed, dark-eyed, and /definitely/ a cop that Sierra has run into before. "Good Evening, Miss Olivia," Vega greets. "We're conducting an investigation, not pertaining to your business, and I was hoping you could answer a few questions. May I come in?"
Sierra kisses her teeth at the sight of Vega, opening the door just a smidge wider and snaking a hand up to scratch at her neck and up over her scalp, mussing her hair some more. She grimaces. "I dunno, not sure I got anything to say tonight, officer. Place is in a bit of a state, hey?"
"I just want you to look at a picture, Miss Oliva." Vega discreetly nudges her toe in the door. "We'll overlook any elements of things being a 'state' tonight, alright?"
Reluctantly, Sierra lets the door swing open, gesturing for Vega to enter. "Yeah, alright." Her tone suggests anything but. Nevertheless, she doesn't wait to afford the pleasantry of visitors first, pushing to jog up the stairs to her dingy little studio. There's a couch that looks like it serves as a bed most nights, given that there's a well-worn pillow and a ratty blanket resting there. Sierra takes a seat on the none-too-sturdy-looking coffee table across from it silently, and waits.
"Thank you." Vega shuts the door gently behind her, cutting off half of the noise from the bar. She follows Sierra up the stairs, feet heavy as she walks. Since the couch is so offered, she takes a seat on it and fishes a photo out of her pocket as she does. "This man look at all familiar to you?" The image is a man who looks a bit like an orangutan, brown facial hair giving the distinctly similar impression along with a reedy smile.
Sierra exhibits the usual nervous twitches; constantly mussing her hair, rubbing at her cheeks, scratching at her wrists whilst she waits for Vega to get settled. She scrubs again at her jaw as she leans in to inspect the photo routinely, but her answer is the probably-anticipated: "Nope." She doesn't even bother to shake her head about it, instead leaning back onto her hands behind her. "That all?"
Waiting patiently, Vega seems content with Sierra's answer after her inspection. "This one's human. We got word he was sniffing around here. He likes to jump mutant kids." She barely manages to get that out calmly, mouth thinning will ill-veiled anger at that. "Will you call me if you see him?" Sierra is offered a card with her name, station address, and direct line on it.
Sierra sniffs again, arching a shapely brow at Vega's elongated description of the fellow. "Yeah," she says, nodding curtly as she takes the offered card and plonks it on the table beside herself. "If mine don't get to 'im first. What's his name?"
"Baker." Not a full name there. Vega shakes her head, rising with a slide of her hands on his pants. "You see him. You call me, alright?" She gives Sierra a hard look, eyes dark and focused. "I don't want you or any of yours getting dragged down because of this, Sierra." Her jaw tenses, a hand sliding back behind her ear. "He needs to be behind bars, but it needs to be by the law. You step in, the heat gets taken off him." And that's the last thing she wants.
"I got it," Sierra replies as she stands up, an old credit card pasted to her ass. It falls off after a second or two, clunking back onto the coffee table quietly. The bar owner winces slightly, but tries to ignore that. "I'll tell the kids to keep an eye out. He comes by, you'll know. Yeah?" She even sticks her hand out for the shakin'. Now that's a sight, ain't it?
Politely ignoring the falling card, Vega dips her head in a nod. "I appreciate that," she says honestly, tone less dry than Sierra has ever heard it. The offering of a hand shocks her. Enough that it takes a moment for her to extend her own in kind, giving it a solid shake. "You have a good evening."
"Yeah." Sierra clears her throat. She is not going to see Vega out. She might mumble, "Piss off," once she thinks the officer is out of earshot. Old habits.That would be weird. Vega makes her own way out.