To be entirely truthful, his night had been awful. He was stuck in a damn squad car, he was bored out of his mind, and he hadn't even gotten to shoot anyone yet! That, and he'd had to deal with plenty of drunk people already.
O'Brien gave a look to the young girl in the woman's arms, and then lifted his eyes back up to Leah's face with a smile. Bran-Bran. Thank God his nieces and nephews didn't call him that. Uncle Brannon was good enough.
His eyes fell back to her hand, when she set it against the window. She was touching his car. He didn't usually like it when people touched his car. And yes, tonight, this fucking squad car was his. "Huh," he let his focus linger on her hand-- she was still touching it. "Leah." He nodded, glancing back up toward her, "I've only just met you, and I already like you better than Stone." Brandon. Whatever. She knew who he was talking about.
Brows furrowed- whoa, wait, wait, wait. She had been mugged??? "Mugged?" He moved to give a look around, "where?" He reached to open his door, "are you alright?" What? He couldn't be an asshole and be concerned for a pretty woman and her kid? Or maybe it was her younger sister. "Are you hurt or anything?"
He got out of the car, straightening his jacket as he looked Leah over from where he was, and then to Marigold, "how about her?" He nodded toward the little girl. "Is she okay?"
He motioned over his shoulder, "I can page your brother. In the meantime, you're welcome to take shotgun--" he paused, "the passenger seat? Just.. don't touch anything."