KC (doingmything) wrote in low_tide, @ 2010-01-30 19:47:00 |
|
|||
Current mood: | working |
Entry tags: | connor reilly, kris michaels |
New Face
As much as everything had changed with the revelation she was a Slayer a lot had actually stayed the same for Kris. She still had a day job and on occasion night job, a lazy partner, a good family and brilliant friends. Hopefully Whistler would be in touch shortly with what she needed to do next, especially as she hadn't been free to attend that party during New Year's, but she felt spending time with her marine on leave brother was more important. Family always came first in her book.
She was currently walking a neighbourhood that she knew like the back of her hand, reassuring the public that in spite of all the recent gang violence the police force was still out there and wanting to keep them safe. It was after all what she'd signed up for, back in the day when she was younger and a whole lot more ignorant than she was at this precise moment in time.
Kris had considered the cross idea, but it went against a lot of things she believed so she settled for always carrying a sharp piece of wood that could be turned into a weapon if needed, hopefully it wouldn't, but as Whistler had pointed out you never could be too sure.
It was only the sound of raised voices that pulled Kris out of her self reflection, frowning as beyond a fence and scattered across two driveways were two arguing men. It wasn't hard to tell that it was going to get physical sooner rather than later, especially with the way they kept pushing one another.
"Dammit," she muttered quietly before she covered the distance quickly. "Hey, hey," she muttered as she slid in-between and placed palms on two chests, shoving the men apart. "How about you guys calm this down, huh?"
The brunette looked at her, took one look at the badge and decided to drop the hand that was rapidly curling into a fist. "He hit my car!"
"He nearly hit my kid!" The other man, blonde, argued right back.
"Woah," Kris muttered calmly, deliberately keeping her voice low. "Let's just calm down and talk one at a time, okay?"
Connor was on his way home, intending to eat something and then take a shower. He was off work that night, and he wanted to spend it patrolling, checking out random trouble spots just in case. Better to stay mindful, no matter how quiet the place usually seemed.
His bike made a rumbling sound as he rounded the corner, and he spotted a child's bicycle lying half in the gutter and half in the street as he slowed the Honda to cruise past a single-story house and the two men arguing in the driveway. There was no little boy or little girl in sight, but someone was going to run over that thing if it kept laying there. The Destroyer throttled the motorcycle down, pulled it to the curb on the other side of the street. Those two idiots were too busy bumping chests to notice, and the policewoman was having to play referee. Somebody had to do the other thing.
The frame was light, and the training wheels dragged the ground before he hefted it higher. The bike was red, dark blue tassels dangling limply from the handlebars. "Somebody lose this?" he asked with an attempt at being good-natured. The moment's pause when he recognized the person in the uniform came and went, and he quickly looked down at the ground to compose his facial expression into something resembling neutrality.
"Officer." There, that was better. "Which yard does this belong in?"
By this point Kris had managed to seperate the two men quite effectively, putting herself between like like a deflective shield. If they wanted to hit one another, they'd have to hit her first and no way would two rational men hit a cop let alone a woman, sometimes it helped to be a woman in a uniform.
She looked up at the address and made eye contact with the brunette. "It's the one behind you, to the left. Blue door." That was how well she knew this neighbourhood and the people who lived there.
Kris turned back to the men and continued to speak to them in low dulcet tones. "This isn't getting you anywhere and I don't think either of you want to cool your heels in a cell overnight now do you?" There was a resounding no from both men. "Good, didn't think so." Kris turned to the brunette. "Now, sir, please take more care when reversing out of your drive. You need to remember that you live in a family orientated neighbourhood and there are going to be kids around. I doubt you want a child's blood on your hands."
Ever the mediator, Kris turned to the blonde. "And I strongly advise you to keep a better eye on your children or at the very least get them some high visible clothing so drivers can see them better in the dark. Trust me, you don't want to risk this."
Connor put the bike in its designated yard, taking the time to lean the object up against the house where it wouldn't be in the way. There was a woman peering out at him through the slats of the Venetian blinds, and he waved at her somewhat awkwardly. The blinds snapped shut, and he walked back to the driveway The situation seemed to have been defused, and he put both hands in his pockets while both of the other men went grumbling back to their homes.
"It's kind of early for so much beer," he remarked to Kris - Officer Michaels - as he jerked his head towards one of the houses. "Good thing you didn't suggest a breathalyzer."
Kris let out a breath when the two men went their seperate ways and shook her head, lifting a hand to rub at the back of her neck. She was so glad it had ended relatively peacefully because she was having a pretty good night and she might actually go home and not pass out straight away.
She looked up at the stranger's comment and gave a small laugh, lips curling into a smile. "Yeah, lucky for him." Kris gestured in the direction that the bike had gone. "Thanks for getting that out of the road, it would have been my next task if you hadn't."
"You were already occupied," he said mildly. "I figured I could do my civic duty and save the kid from getting upset when their bike got backed over by someone not looking where they're going. It seems to be going around."
What could he tell her, or maybe just how much could he tell her? Connor dragged the toe of one shoe across the concrete of the sidewalk, pondering that, letting it sift through his consciousness. If he just said he knew Whistler and left it at that, would that be enough to classify him as one of the good guys?
"I thought cops patrolled in squad cars," he said instead, looking back towards the street as if expecting to see a vehicle marked with the city logo parked nearby. "The economy's not that bad yet, is it?"
Kris snorted and shook her head. "Not that bad yet." She shrugged her uniform clad shoulders. "I prefer doing the occasional foot patrol, get to places you can't get to when you're in a car." Her fingers lifted to tap against the radio attached to her shoulder. "Besides, my backup is never that far away."
She shifted and rested her hands against her hips, fingers curling around the heavily ladened belt that all officers wore when on duty. "Gotta say though you're a new face, haven't seen you in the neighbourhood before."
"I moved down here from Chicago just before the new year," the Destroyer said. "Me and my girlfriend did, we got a place on the beach. Got tired of all the cold."
It was the partial truth at least, and loose sand gritted under his shoes as he shifted his posture. "It'll be nice to swim once summer comes. The water has to be cleaner here, even if there's no surf. Are you a native, Officer?"
"Chicago," Kris repeated. "Always wanted to go there." Maybe one day, it wasn't like all her life would be spent in one city and it wasn't like she couldn't visit.
She nodded her head a moment later. "Born and bred right here." Kris glanced over her shoulder before she decided to step out of the driveway and back onto the sidewalk. "It's not a bad place to live. Not at all."
"Also? The water's great in summer."
"I guess you could say I'm in private security," Connor said modestly. "Just as a bouncer, but I think it's important to watch out for people. Sometimes trouble is a little more subtle than you'd expect."
He could tell her something, he decided, but not very much. It was the wrong setting for it. He pointed at the holstered service revolver she was carrying. "Ever have to use that?"
"I have a friend in that business," Kris shared. "She's pretty into it and most people underestimate her because she's a woman. Works at the 'Sunset Beach' bar."
She glanced at her belt and more importantly the firearm she was licensed to carry and trained to use. "More times than I care to repeat." She scratched behind her ear and lifted a shoulder. "I'm not a big fan of guns as ironic as that might seem given my occupation."
"Guns don't solve everything," Connor said with a shrug, then added more soberly, "There's some things that guns don't even work on. They slow things down, sure, but sometimes stopping is what you're after, not just slowing them up."
He showed her his palms, the calluses on them darkening the untanned flesh in several places. "I'm not crazy," he said with a half-smile. "The guy in the hat mentioned you, said you were around. I'm guessing you've already had one head-on collision with one of those...things. Right?"
Kris lifted an eyebrow and almost immediately her body language changed, from open it turned to closed, arms folded across her chest. "The guy in the hat?" She repeated, narrowing her gaze on the brunette. "Whistler?" The mention of the man's name did nothing to ease the tension now present in Kris' form, just because this brunette knew the hatted man and the hatted man had felt the need to share information with him didn't mean Kris was going to trust him right off the bat.
"I'm not sure this is the best place to be discussing this," she pointed out as her gaze slid to her radio and the fact she was still very much on active duty.
"It's really not," Connor agreed, and he stepped aside off of the sidewalk so she could pass him by. The days were gradually getting longer, and rays of sunshine splashed across the concrete and the darker asphalt beyond. He had a brief sense of unreality about the whole thing. In another time, another place, he and Kris had met under more stressful circumstances than these, but her sense of distrust was still present. Some things transcended dimensions, apparently.
"If you have some time, Officer, I could explain a little better. I wasn't going anywhere."
Kris looked at the brunette and lifted an eyebrow. "I need to finish my shift." She tapped her radio again and offered a wry smile. "Pretty sure my partner is expecting me back so we might have to pick this conversation up at another time seeing as I have another two hours left behind I can call it a day."
She rubbed at the base of her neck and gestured. "You got anything you can take my number with?"
He found a pen, wrote down his phone number and email on a piece of scrap paper. Trading information made him feel like he was doing something, even though she might see him as a weirdo at first. Networking was always better, just to keep allies and possible allies alerted.
"I usually answer, but if not you can just leave a voicemail."
"And here I thought I was giving you my number," Kris muttered as she took a hold of the scrap of paper. "Guess not." She tucked the paper away into a pocket and noted his comment with a nod of her head. "I'll remember that." If she called him that was, she still wasn't entirely sure about this networking thing, especially as she still hadn't come to terms with the fact she was a Slayer yet.
She glanced in the direction of the houses before she turned back to the brunette. "Never did get your name."
"Connor. Connor Reilly."
He would have to walk carefully if she followed up on a phone call, at least for a while. Life was difficult enough without realizing you'd had a destiny with a capital 'D' handed to you. If Kris had yet to come to terms with things, it was not his place to offer advice unless she asked for it. And maybe not even then.
"I'll let you get back to your work, Officer. Have a safe patrol."
"I'll do my best," she remarked with a smile. "Take care, Connor. Have a good day what's left of it." She gave him one last lingering look before she turned on her heel to continue her patrol, hoping Leon had finished his section so they could meet up and finish it off together.
Some days she wished she had a better partner.
Some days.