Nobody is smart but Daryl Hockney (the_automaton) wrote in musingslogs, @ 2011-06-03 01:37:00 |
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Entry tags: | lois lane, sherlock holmes |
Who: Max and Daryl
What: A Very Civilized Lunch
Where: A cafe near the Seattle Times HQ
When: Last Tuesday
Warnings: Mild language thanks to Max, but otherwise nothing. This actually is a very civilized lunch. They deserve blue ribbons.
After the events of Monday evening, Daryl was quite eager to use her time productively. She could have determined that the “bomb” was a fake after mere minutes, but the Bomb Squad spent so much time hemming, hawing, and picking its nose that no resolution was found. It was quite frustrating, especially since the whole thing could have been avoided if only the police had listened to her. So few people seemed to, which was an absolute mystery: she was, after all, always right.
But she had to remind herself that people didn’t appreciate being reminded of that fact. Lately, she was becoming much more attuned to that fact. It explained why she had asked to meet with Maxine Main of all people. When she stopped to think of it, it was a bit absurd. After all, Ms. Main was consistently biased and therefore unreliable. She was incapable of acting diplomatically or neutrally, which made her difficult to pull information from - it would always be tainted. But Ms. Main’s emotional tendencies could be useful in some scenarios, she had to admit. And her intimate connection with this case meant that she would be a much better ally than an enemy. Daryl simply needed to place her in the correct spot.
Sitting at an empty table at the cafe, she checked her watch. It was 11:57, three minutes before she agreed to meet Ms. Main. She had already chosen their table and ordered drinks for them both, with a menu for herself and set out for the other woman. Everything was going smoothly, which she quite approved of. She looked out the window coolly, watching pedestrians pass. People were so predictable. She could tell when one member of a duo was interested in the other, when someone on the phone would rather be doing anything else, and when a woman shopping was trying to think of ways to hide her purchases from her husband. People watching had once been her favorite pastime, but it had lately been a bore. She blamed Adam. Everyone was bland and one-note in comparison to him.
The waitress - who was in an abusive relationship and refused to acknowledge that fact - approached with a tray of drinks, smiling at Daryl as she set them down. “A beer for your friend,” she said as she set the beer down in Ms. Main’s empty place. “Black coffee for you,” she said with a raised brow, setting the cup down in front of her. “And waters for you both.” The glasses were set down in tandem, earning a half-smile from Daryl. Ordering a water for Ms. Main showed that she cared about the other woman’s state of hydration, which clearly suggested that she was interested in a true symbiotic partnership. It was a foolproof plan.
“Thank you,” she replied softly, leaning forward to smell her coffee. The beans were South American, roasted off-site and stored for at least a week. Not an ideal cup, but not horrid. She leaned back in her chair, stirring the coffee absently with her spoon. She had requested it lukewarm, but it was still far too hot for her. And so she would wait, hoping that her drink would reach an acceptable temperature by the time her lunch companion arrived.