Who: Jen and Daryl What: Daryl has a present for Jen Where: The police station When: Thursday, around lunchtime Warnings: Diabetes-inducing adorable.
It was strange, how an agitated emotional state spurred Daryl to be more productive than usual. Though she was usually very efficient and rarely wasted time, she found herself positively swimming in activity. She managed to find time to perform tasks she never did at home - paying bills, filling out paperwork she usually made Jane do - while still completing the puzzles Tim had sent her and designing and running a social experiment on her own. And now, for reasons she had yet to uncover, she found herself in the aftermath of Christmas shopping. Usually, Daryl’s holidays were limited to herself and Jane. Anyone else received flowers or a fruit basket - impersonal, polite gifts. But this season, she found that it was appropriate to invest her valuable time and finances in something purchased to delight other human beings.
Several times this week, she had considered the possibility that she had fallen prey to prion disease.
The officers and detectives at the Seattle Police Department had grown used to her presence by now. As she entered the station, few people even looked up - she was commonplace. As usual, she carried her messenger bag with her badge pinned to it, identifying her as an official consultant. A few officers glanced her way as she made a beeline for Detective Warda’s office, tiny shoulders thrown back and head held high. She had a purpose for this visit, and it showed in every step she took.
Without knocking, she opened the door, finding the other woman engrossed in paperwork. It could wait. “Detective Warda,” she said in cordial greeting. She didn’t ask if she could come in. She didn’t ask if this was a bad time. If it were a bad time, it would soon be a good time. Because Daryl had a purpose. “What are you working on?” She let the door close behind her as she entered the office, taking a seat opposite the detective’s desk and balancing her messenger bag on her lap. The gift was inside there, hidden, but it wouldn’t stay that way for long. Jennifer had been at her desk for hours. She’d spent more time at the police station since the week prior, the stir of Creation-related crimes affecting her perhaps more than she realized. December was always this way. Sharp spikes in criminal activity, too many people asking for vacation time--it was often a prime opportunity to completely drown herself in work. This strategy of avoidance played out as it always did, for a time.
Only, two days invested and Detective Warda had felt increasingly...restless. Something had changed. Something was pulling her away from the endless piles of paperwork and the idiotic criminals screaming down the hallway. It was an uncomfortable feeling, and she decided almost immediately that it was unacceptable. Nothing had changed this year at all, in fact, and she would work as long as she damned well pleased (and it damn well didn’t have anything to do with the maddening amount of women currently flooding her personal life). It was several hours after this unpleasant observation when Hockney came storming in.
So much for grand denials. Jennifer set aside her pen with a quiet sigh of hesitation. Not that the detective wasn’t glad to see her, of course, as ridiculous of an entrance as it was. She sat back in her chair, hands moving to rest across her lap. “Nothing important,” she replied, the corners of her mouth pulled back for a moment in a resigned smirk. It wasn’t so long ago that she remembered a very different scene in this very same room. Jennifer attempted to ignore how the difference in moods pleased her, somehow. “Do you need something?” Strangely enough, Daryl believed her. Though Detective Warda was prone to hiding and disguising emotion, Daryl was usually competent enough to notice when something was remiss. But right now, it seemed as if there was nothing out of place. She had to believe that, for whatever reason, Detective Warda really wasn’t terribly upset by her appearance and was capable of accommodating her easily.
Dismissing the creeping feeling that something very wrong had happened here, Daryl straightened up in her chair at the other woman’s question. “No,” she said, voice the slightest bit smug. “I, in fact, have something to give to you.” She wasn’t sure why she felt so superior simply because she was giving another person a gift, but she did. Without further explanation, she opened her messenger bag and reached inside, pulling out a small box. It was flat and square in shape, wrapped in plaid paper with gold ribbon and a bow. Looking from the gift to Detective Warda, Daryl promptly held it out to her, elbows locked.
“As the holidays are a difficult time, I thought it appropriate to give you this early at a time that would be convenient for us both. I would appreciate it if you opened this now rather than waiting on reasons of sentimentality.” Though her tone was even, there was the slightest bit of anxiety in her expression. She wasn’t exactly sure why. “Give me something?” Jennifer asked, eyebrow raised. She was thinking evidence, or something case-related, as her mind was still partially focused on the unfinished paperwork in front of her. Leaning forward in her chair as Hockney removed the package, she realized it was something entirely different. She noted the shape, the careful wrapping and the gold ribbon adorning the top.
Hockney was giving her a Christmas present?
Jennifer didn’t immediately know how to feel about this. It wasn’t an emotion she could readily pinpoint. Taking the gift from the other woman’s hands, she turned it about a few times, carefully inspecting it. “I see,” she managed to respond after a time. Physically, she could see the gift just fine. Understanding any part of what was currently unfolding was just a bit beyond her. To her credit, she didn’t so much as frown despite her current confusion.
Rolling her eyes a little at Hockney’s insistence--Jennifer was pretty sure these sorts of things required some kind of etiquette under normal circumstances, all of which probably didn’t apply to them at all--she carefully began to undo the wrapping. “If you’re going to insist,” she mumbled. It was a quick, neat effort, the paper and bow set aside on her desk in a few short moments. Jennifer opened the box slightly, her gaze flicking between Hockney and the gift. She continued to be surprised. As the other woman took the gift, Daryl sat back in her chair and began to fidget. She didn’t like this waiting - she was very impatient, after all. Waiting meant prolonging the end, and she didn’t like to prolong things when it wasn’t necessary. She wanted to see Detective Warda’s reaction now, fully-formed, without all this horrible anticipation. As she watched her open the packaging, Daryl began to think back to the selection of this gift. She hoped that it would be adequate. She realized that her experience in giving gifts was so limited that perhaps she was incapable of choosing a proper one.
Once the paper was pulled away, Detective Warda opened the box, revealing the gift to them both. It was a handsome bracelet made up of several black leather strips braided together to create a smooth circle of medium thickness. It was held together by a silver clasp and a short chain of links to allow for some customization of the fit. Attached to the root of the clasp, right beside the black leather, was a small charm in the shape of a pistol. It was attached by the bottom of the grip, dangling down almost vertically. Small engravings gave the charm a sense of authenticity, making it truly look like a miniature firearm.
Sitting up straight in her seat, Daryl leaned forward just slightly, gaze locked on Detective Warda’s face. She didn’t dare say a word - she just waited, watching for her reaction. Jennifer opened the box and placed it on the desk for the both of them to examine. It was a bracelet. A very well-designed bracelet, she admitted, removing it from it’s package and dangling it between her fingers. She found no obvious flaws in the leather braiding, the clasp or the tiny link of chains. Setting it in her palm, Jennifer used her other hand to inspect the small, detailed charm attached to it.
Her expression remained thoughtful, and for most observers it would’ve been difficult to ascertain her reaction. As she quietly undid the clasp and worked about setting it across her wrist, only the subtlest of hints gave away the smile she was trying to combat. Jennifer liked to remain composed, especially in circumstances so--unfamiliar. Unexpected?
Once the bracelet was fastened securely, she looked up to meet Hockney’s gaze. “A good fit,” she noted, and whether she meant the size or the design seemed curiously unspecific. “Didn’t know you were experienced in gift-giving, Hockney,” she added, the tone of her voice settling somewhere between compliment and gratitude. Even if Jennifer didn’t approach it outright, the sentiment was the same. Reading Detective Warda was extremely difficult. Daryl was on the edge of her seat, doing her best to find something - anything - to go on, but there was nothing. For all she knew, the woman could have been inspecting the growing rates of different grasses. For a moment, she thought that maybe - just maybe - there was a hint of a smile on her lips, but then she reconsidered. It was maddening, this uncertainty. Just maddening.
Her response was equally cryptic. Was it a good physical fit, or a good fit in the metaphorical sense of its design? Daryl shifted in her seat, craning her neck just slightly as if stretching would allow her to see something she’d previously missed. For the record, it didn’t help at all.
“I’m not,” she said. “I simply thought that it was appropriate. It is common practice for people with an alliance as longstanding as ours to give gifts such as this.” She wasn’t sure why she felt the need to justify and explain her gift, but it made her feel a bit better about the anxiety she seemed to be feeling. Hands placed neatly on her lap once more, the gift now very much in Jennifer’s possession, she took a moment to consider the response. It was true, their alliance had successfully lasted longer than even the detective had expected. She’d thought near constantly that once Hockney had devised a proper plan to be rid of her presence they’d part on some explosive terms and that would be the end of it. Shots fired, probably some kind of explosion.
Strangely enough, here they were--sitting peaceably across from each other in Jennifer’s office, both in one piece. Better than that, if she thought on it. This alliance of theirs seemed to have done a lot for the both of them. Jennifer pursed her lips slightly. It was something to think more on...at another time. “Guess you’re right, it does seem appropriate.”
There was also the point of another gift tucked somewhere safely in the recesses of Jennifer’s apartment--something she planned not to share until the proper time. She gave the situation some consideration, her hand moving to touch the bracelet instead of the oddly-shaped scar on her wrist. “Do you have plans this afternoon?” Detective Warda’s gaze settled from somewhere across the room back to Hockney. There was a small hint of curiosity in her voice. Seeing the other woman purse her lips, Daryl stiffened as if waiting for a blow. Perhaps she was going to say that she didn’t like it. Why did she bother? This anxiety and anticipation was not good for her. What was the point? Just as she was about to leave out of sheer annoyance, Daryl was stopped by Detective Warda’s voice. “It is,” she replied, voice clipped.
She hesitated, noting how the other woman touched the bracelet. Daryl had long since observed the way Detective Warda touched the scar on her wrist, and she found herself oddly intrigued by the way she seemed to substitute the bracelet for the scar. At her question, Daryl paused, looking up at her face. “No,” she said cautiously. “I haven’t planned that far ahead in this day.” Was this a customary question after one was given a gift? She wasn’t sure. She should have done more research. Jennifer straightened in her seat. Good, that was the answer she’d been wanting. Even if she wasn’t about to start handing out presents so early, there were other ways to reciprocate their--renewed alliance or whatever it was. “If you’re interested,” she offered, “I haven’t taken a break in--” She looked over at the clock on her computer screen.
Alright, so it had been a while. There were reasons people thought she was some kind of terminator. “Well, we could go for lunch?”
Truthfully, she’d been distracted for quite a while and her work wasn’t getting completed as well as she’d liked. Clearing her head for a little while might improve matters greatly. Jennifer leaned forward slightly, waiting for a response. Raising a brow, Daryl tilted her head. In how long? Probably an obscene amount of time. She didn’t press the issue, knowing that the exact number didn’t mean anything. What mattered was that Detective Warda hadn’t been away from her desk in some time, and it seemed that they were going to remedy that. It was progress.
She hesitated, trying to think of nearby places that catered lunch. “There is a deli two blocks east,” she said, gesturing in the correct direction while still looking at the other woman. “There is an Italian eatery that likely serves a lunch menu on the other side of the next street over, west. And I am aware of a new Indian restaurant three blocks beyond that.” Jennifer took that response as a very practical yes. Rising out of her chair, she walked over to where her coat was hanging and gave the options some thought. “Haven’t been to the deli in a while,” she decided, pulling on her overcoat and gesturing for Hockney to follow her. “Come on, I’ll pick up the tab this time.” Opening the door, she looked down at her ally with a subtle grin of affection. As the other woman moved about the room, Daryl watched her carefully. She wasn’t sure why she was still on pins and needles, but she was. Perhaps it was sleep deprivation. Perhaps it was that prion disease she had feared earlier. Either way, Detective Warda was putting on her coat, which was a good sign. As she gestured for Daryl to follow, the petite private eye stood, slinging her messenger bag over her shoulder.
Though Detective Warda’s smile was subtle, Daryl noticed it. As she moved to the other woman’s side, she felt her own mouth doing something very strange. It wasn’t a smirk, but it used similar muscles. There was something almost painful about it, but she didn’t try to destroy it. Instead, she just looked up at the detective, gray eyes containing some strange semblance of humanity. “Thank you.” The tone of her voice suggested that she wasn’t just appreciating a free meal. And with that, she left the office, stride infused with a pinch less arrogance and a dash more confidence.