2007-03-21: Advantage Parkman


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Summary: In Central Park for lunch, Detective Parkman engages in a light spot of psychic interrogation.

Date It Happened: March 21, 2007

Advantage Parkman

Central Park, NYC

It's just past noon on this Wednesday here in New York. People are out and about in the park, although clad for the colder weather. One of them is a twenty-something brunette. She's wearing jeans and a muted red winter coat; gloves on each hand have enough fingertips cut out for one of her favorite activities. It's being engaged in at the present time: Jane's seated on a park bench with her guitar case open by one foot. A backpack sits by the other, and next to her on the bench is an amp.

Rather than work through his lunch break, Detective Matt Parkman has decided to take a stroll through Central Park. He holds a sandwich - salami, cheese, lettuce, tomato, and pickle on wheat - as he walks down the path. While other park-goes have that dreamy look of appreciation for the world around them, Matt seems otherwise occupied. It's a good sandwich. A /very/ good sandwich. When he nears Jane, however, the detective slows to a stop, munching as he listens to the music.

It's a classic rock tune she's playing, seated there as the detective eats. She glances in his direction, acknowledging with a nod, and at that point she is playing directly to him rather than the mass tactic of making it seem so with a larger crowd. A smile lights her features, suggesting she's indulging in one of her greatest passions, something which for her chases away darkness. Which allows her to vent rather than be consumed by it. At the same time, however, Jane's scanning the area for dogs and their owners, because the combo may mean dog whistles. Thoughts to this effect enter her mind. 'I hope there aren't any ultrasonic whistles today, but then again I hope there are. Can't get control over it without exposure.'

It's not terribly cold for some - even Parkman is only wearing a jacket of 'medium' thickness over his button-up shirt and trousers. And since it's the middle of the day, of course there are people in the park with their dogs. A shepherd mix barks joyfully as it darts after a frisbee in the grassy area across the path from Jane and Parkman, but the latter's sandwich distracts the young dog. Desperate to control the animal, which really /should/ be on a leash, the young man who three the Frisbee pulls a small whistle out of his pocket and brings it to his lips in an effort to get his animal's attention. Parkman turns a bit when the dog starts toward him with his smiling jaws, but as soon as the whistle is blown, the dog snaps it's head around and looks wildly at the source. The /hell?/

And the guitarist reacts. She spots the animal going after her detective audience's food, and the owner seconds later as he raises the device. Too late. It's already been blown. Jane winces visibly. 'Damn,' she thinks. 'I should've been more ready for that. But they're a fact of life, I'll just have to get used to it and deal. At least it doesn't make me scream and shatter street lamps like that one time anymore.' It's a fairly loud thought, given its connection to unpleasant sound and desire to adapt. At around the same time her voice falters slightly, and fingers miss a chord due to her reaction.

It's the wince that first draws Parkman's attention. With the dog on his leash again, and it's owner apologizing profusely even as he pulls the animal away, but the detective is looking at Jane. The thoughts cause him to narrow his eyes into a squint, and teased with the treat of a mystery he might just be able to actually solve, he digs for more. He won't speak until the song is over. Munchsammichmunch.

She, for her part, has no idea the audience is a psychic detective. Trying to cover, to act as if nothing happened to interfere with performing, she carries on playing guitar. It's a Beatles tune from Abbey Road, in fact the back end of She's So Heavy/Carry That Weight, where the guitar plays on after lyrics for a minute or more and suddenly stops. No fadeout, it was done on purpose to toy with their fans. She plays it faithful to the original.

Stuffing the rest of the sandwich into his mouth, Parkman pulls out his wallet and tosses two dollars into the open guitar case. "Nice tunes," he says once his mouth is clear of lunch. "One of the better things I've heard in awhile." Parkman squints a bit, listening for any sort of mental response that might be different from anything the musician might answer verbally.

"Thanks," she replies, looking up at him as he contributes. "It's the purest form of professional music, playing in the open, either they like it or don't." Jane thinks much the same, but as she watches him something else comes to mind. 'Maybe that wasn't too noticeable, he doesn't seem to think I heard anything I shouldn't be able to hear. I'm fairly certain he saw the dog and the guy, he's got to know a whistle was used.'

"Dangerous though," Parkman continues as he puts his wallet back into a pocket and slips his hands into those in his jacket. He glances over his shoulder in the direction that the dog and its owner went off in. "You don't like dogs? Cause he wasn't going for you. I think my lunch looked tastier than your guitar."

"I don't hate dogs," Jane answers with a chuckle. It's an honest statement, one that draws up a matching thought, and something else. 'I just hate hearing the whistles. They hurt. Oh. Crap. He saw. But at least he doesn't think I heard anything he didn't. I hope. There has to be a way.' She runs her fingers lightly over the strings and frets, entirely unaware she's undergoing psychic interrogation. "Why would you think I hate dogs?" 'Yes, find out what he saw, or thinks he saw.'

But Parkman plays his cards close to his chest. With a smile, he shakes his head. "No reason. Take care of yourself. You've got a good ear for covers. Maybe next time I see you in the park, you'll play something of your own." Nodding, the detective starts to move away. Sure, he could give the girl Mohinder's contact information, but with the doctor working with the Company…well, Matt wouldn't wish that fate on anyone.

Advantage Parkman. Jane just nods as he speaks of her own music and begins to move away. "I've been working on some. Thanks for stopping, sir." Inwardly there's a thought of relief, that he didn't in the end appear to notice anything supernormal, and some snippets of things like band names and song titles. 'Ultimate Soprano. Brunette Canary.'

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