fandomtownies | Trooper Station; Monday [ 11/03. ]

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Trooper Station; Monday [ 11/03. ]

Daisy found herself to be a really lovely mood when she came into work that Monday, having found the weekend to be a great step in starting to make things feel a bit more like home, a bit more like her life back in London, save for the severe lack of metropolitan luxuries. Like cars. And multiple dance clubs.

At least the place had a karaoke bar.

She even had herself a nice cup of tea this morning, figuring that it was a good alternative to help dance around that sticky little coffee issue.

[[ *is finished spamming your FL* open station is open! Pings will be delayed until a more proper Monday EST hour as I go sleep now! ]]

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"Hey, Daisy!" Ray greeted, flinging himself at the chair in closest proximity to her with the kind of careful slacker cool that kinda had to be rehearsed.

Which, Ray was proud to say, he had. Over many, many years of bullpenning. "How're you settling?"

Daisy blinked, feeling a bit flummoxed by this. Daisy at Work and Daisy Outside of It were still two very separate entities, and the concept of casualty and exchange of details about Daisy Outside of It while being Daisy at Work was still a little over her head.

She blinked again, and shook her head. "Kowlaski," she greeted him back, with a nod, getting a grip on at least one Daisy so that he didn't think that either one had completely left the building. "I'm settling in well. How...was your weekend?"

She frowned a little at the question; they seemed like foreign words to Daisy at Work. No one asked about your weekend at Work.

Huh. Weird reaction. Oh well. He could roll with that. He was a champ roller. Watch him roll.

"Empty, kinda," Ray said, with a bit of a reluctant shrug, "This place is deader'n a doornail. Heard there was a wedding, some guy got left at the altar, but that was just down the, uh, squirrel grapevine."

And back home, that wouldn't even have been gossip, let alone anything grapevine-worthy.

"Reception, actually," Daisy corrected. "The marriage was completed, but she changed her mind by the time the reception came around. Straight from the official who performed the ceremony."

And that wasn't gossip, either. That was merely establishing the fact.

Well, he really only had one response to that. "Oh," Ray said, like it didn't matter much, "Well, there's my point. Deader'n a doornail. Runaway bride's going to wait until after the wedding? What's that?"

"A chance to capitulate on free gifts," Daisy said. "I've seen it quite a few times; usually, the bride and groom are in conjunction with each other, intending to take the items received, sell them, and make with the money from it. Very rarely does any conman, or conwoman, worth his or her salt try to pull that just on their own; in any court, spoils are far more likely to go to the party that didn't try to get out of it. Guests, on occasion, try to reclaim the gifted property by shouting fraud, and I'm the one who has to tell them that a gift is a gift, and outside the sort of law they're hoping to use to their advantage. Ethically and morally decrepit, of course, but outside the not-as-long-as-they'd-like arm of the law."

And a rather nasty thing to do to people, which was why Daisy didn't feel one lick of a moment bad for all the alcohol she'd consumed when she crashed the thing.

"...Huh," Ray said, after having taken a moment to let that stream of words pass straight over him. She was like a female Fraser or something. Weird. "Think I fell asleep. Anyway, I dunno, I don't go to a lot of weddings." He shrugged. "Drinks any good? For a con, I mean."

"Very good reception," Daisy allowed with a faint, sad sort of smile. "If it was in fact a con, at least they made sure the conned guests had a good time. Of course, that's a good way to make them not care so much that they were conned."

"Considerate cons. That's nice. Got to hand it to the island," he mused, fiddling with something in his pocket before he finally pulled out the gum and popped it in his mouth. "Real considerate about everything."

Daisy frowned a little at that. "What has the island got anything to do with it?" she asked.

Ray paused.

"I actually don't know," he offered, "But that's not the point."

He didn't know what the point was, either.

"You all moved in yet?"

Daisy eyed Ray a little oddly, wondering exactly what the point was, but then deciding that, if it was important, he'd have let her know.

That still didn't seem to stop her from thinking it was more bizarre and confusing that Ray was here because he was either interested or bored, and not just to give her more work or bitch about the work she'd been doing so far.

She nodded. "Ta. Have been for a bit here now. Nice apartment, pretty cozy. A bit odd not having a flatmate, though."

"You, uh, used to live with somebody?" Ray asked. If someone had asked him, he'd have mentioned he was there because a), he liked the rolling chair, and 2) Daisy was a beautiful policewoman, plus he was kinda bored.

He was just not gonna go back into the whole Fraser comparison.

"Well, I could hardly afford a London flat on my old salary," Daisy pointed out. "Here, they've compensated me a bit for having to jump all the way across the pond. Her name was Carol; always complained about my cooking her porridge, but she always ate it anyway."

Daisy did allow a faint smile as she shook her head. "Girl's health is going to go to shit without me there looking after her."

"She need a lot of feeding, huh?" he asked, fiddling with something on his desk for a minute. And then with the cushioning of his chair. "Never really had a roommate. Well, my ex-wife, but that's not really a roommate." He laughed. A little. For about two seconds.

Sparing another odd look for Ray (she had a feeling she'd be doing that often), Daisy wondered if that was the sort of reasoning that lead her to being his ex-wife, but it barely mattered.

"You were married, then?" she asked. This whole sharing personal lives and stories with your co-workers thing was new to her, but she figured it wouldn't hurt to give it a bit of a try.

"Yeah. But that was a long while ago. Doesn't really matter." He shrugged.

Except for the part where Stella had done nothing but matter for a long time. Past tense now, though. Definitely. Ray kicked off, spinning in his chair once. "So, um. Mustang give you any clue as to anybody getting partnered up?"

Not that he had any vested interest in keeping far away from Cooper and his bizarro-world obsession with coffee.

"For marriage?" Daisy asked, head tilting, and being far, far too streamlined on topics for the conversation at the moment. But, hey, it was a small town. As far as she knew, something like one wedding to the next when the place wasn't being invaded by dragons or aliens or weird clown balloon animals was what people tended to focus on.

"Nah, not marriage," Ray said, snickering again, "But that's funny. No, like red ships, green ships, cop ships..."

"Oh." Daisy grinned a bit, with a small laugh. "That makes a bit more sense. Uh, not that I've noticed. But things continue to be calm, it seems, with the exception of a few reports on relatively harmless balloon animal attacks." She shifted, slightly, through the things on her desk, pulling on that particular file that she'd been reviewing earlier. "Nothing," she commented, "that a good sharp object on hand can't take care of."

"Hey," he said, grinning, "I popped a couple of balloons over the weekend. Think the Sheriff'll let me clock that as overtime?" It was a joke! Kinda.

"Might not hurt," Daisy said. "Or you could just scratch it off as going above and beyond the call of duty. I definitely understand that 'above and beyond' won't get the rent paid on time."

"We should look into that kinda thing," Ray mused, "I mean, it'd be, what's the word-- prudent. There's gotta be some kind of hazard pay for the whole, one two three, dinosaurs invade thing."

"I can only imagine," Daisy mused, "that we must have a very good workman's comp. Pay here isn't look too bad where it stands, though."

"Beats Chicago," Ray said, grudgingly, "At least I don't trip over any winos if I take a hike through the park at night."

Ah, delightful little racial slurs. Daisy did well not to wince, an art of hers practised to near perfection. "Instead," she offered, "it appears you just trip over ducks and squirrels."

"Hey, a squirrel I can deal with," Ray argued, spinning his chair again. He took the wrapper of his chewing gum and fiddled with it. "Ducks, eh."

"I hear they're excellent with sage," Daisy offered, head tilted slightly at Ray. Fidgety fellow that he was.

"Ever tried any?"

"Not with sage," Daisy admitted with an amused shake of her head. "But Peking duck's always good, or even with just some fresh ginger..."

Daisy couldn't help stealing a quick glance toward the clock for an estimate on her lunch break. There was that Chinese place in town, wasn't there? It was starting to sound good.

"I've, uh, I've had some," he offered, "It was not so good."

Ray followed the line of her glance there for a minute. Huh. Yeah, not long now. "I think I owe you a newbie lunch one of these days," he continued. "Even if I'm kinda new myself."

"No on the duck with sage, huh? And I didn't know newbie lunches were a part of the deal," Daisy observed. "I certainly wouldn't say no, though."

"It's tradition!" For him, anyway. Good, good memories. "You catch me on my shift again sometime this week, we'll go for lunch, Day."

"Tradition?" It would have sounded like nonsense back at London. Daisy shook her head. "Clearly, I joined a force on the wrong side of the pond at first. All right, though," she nodded, grinning a bit. "We'll do just that, Kowalski."

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Trooper Station; Monday [ 11/03. ]

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