2007-05-16: Bullet With Your Name On It


Viola_icon.gif Namir_icon.gif Ethan_icon.gif


Namir attempts to apologize to Viola for shooting her. He comes bearing gifts.

May 16th, 2007:

A Bullet With Your Name On It

Holcombe Apartment

Slowly transitioning back into the office, Viola has been showing up for half days off and on for the past week or so. It's been incredibly frustrating because she wants to be /back/ there in full capacity. Luckily, her leg has been healing pretty well and she's mostly back to normal with her walking, though she still has a limp and is carrying around a cane. Mostly it's so she can hit people with it when she feels like it, though. Today, she's relaxing with one of the case files she's taken home with her, a plate of her favorite chocolate cake within easy reach.

Since it has been more or less determined that Namir's reasoning for shooting Viola in the stadium a month ago was "kosher", so to speak, charges against him have been dropped. It's a small victory, but it has the potential to lead to many others. It looks as though his suspension will soon be lifted and he'll be allowed to come back to work. Then he can start rebuilding his reputation. Which is why he's here now. It took a little digging around, but he got hold of the lieutenant's address, and now he stands just outside the door holding a small white, lidded box. It is entirely lacking in any adornments of any sort. After a couple of deep breaths, the Muslim — dressed in a dark blue button-down shirt and black slacks — lifts a hand and quietly knocks at the door.

It takes a little while for Viola to get herself up from her comfortable position. Curses, where is Holly to do assist her every whim when she actually needs him? Closing the file, she grabs her cane and makes a slow walk over to the door. Really, the cane is just there in case it's a family member she needs to beat back physically from entering. She doesn't even use it as she walks over. When she peers through the peep hole, though, it's a completely different expression that falls over her. Opening the door only slightly, she stares down the man who shot her a month ago. "Dayan." It does not sound all that welcoming.

Nor did Namir expect to be welcomed. He doesn't even make an attempt at a smile. How could anyone smile at someone they'd shot? His expression is not nearly so cold, but in fact quite blank save for a hint of apology somewhere behind his eyes. "Lieutenant Holcombe," he returns the greeting with a small nod. He doesn't hold her gaze for long, dropping his eyes to the box in his hand. "I just wanted to apologize for what happened. I would have come sooner, but I was advised against it until after things had been cleared up." The box is not offered just yet.

From her position in the door, Viola studies Namir and the present he brought her. "Any contact you would have had with me would have gone on your record and would have reflected negatively at your trial. In fact, it's pretty much a breach of legal negotiation and you could be jailed for it." Not that she looked that up or knew that or anything. "Just so you know." While her voice isn't exactly /cold/ it's not warm, either. If what Parkman said is true, then it's possibly he wasn't acting of his own volition. "Alright. You've offered your apologies. I assume that white box thing has something to do with it, too."

No matter what Parkman said, Namir has given his official story, and in the interest of keeping his job, he's sticking to it. He will continue /officially/ sticking to it until long after he's retired. When the box is mentioned, he smiles just faintly and extends it toward Viola. "I, ah, thought that if ever you wanted to return the favor— " he trails off, allowing the present itself to finish that thought.

Inside the box, there is another box — a black velveteen one much like those that usually contain jewelry. This one, however, contains a shiny new 9mm bullet the casing of which has been etched with the name 'Namir Dayan'.

Whatever helps Namir sleep at night. Either way, Viola isn't really about to trust to have the man watching her back in the near future. Who knows when he'll suddenly think she's someone target worthy. Dubiously, the lieutenant takes the box from Namir and opens it. And then opens the second one. What she sees makes her eyebrows raise. "You have a sick sense of humor, Dayan." Snapping the lid shut, she leans against the door for support, but still doesn't offer the man in. People who shoot her do not get offered cake or coffee.

Namir would probably refuse them anyway, having no guarantee as to where they've come from. They could contain or have touched things previously used for pork products, rendering them inedible. His smile grows a little, but it's neither proud nor pleased. It is wry. "It seemed more appropriate and thoughtful than flowers." Granted, he doesn't know she dislikes flowers. He might very well have made that mistake had he come earlier, before he had time to think about things.

Not having to worry about kosher or halal or anything of the sort, it's highly likely that there is nothing for Namir to eat in the Holcombe household. Of course, Viola isn't about to offer it even if it is there. "I hate flowers. They're too goddamn happy." If Namir didn't know her dislike of flowers, he does now. "Look, you've been shot in the leg. Here's something that epitomizes happiness to mock you and your pain. Have a great day." Though her tone is bitter, it's not at all directed at Namir. It's at all the people who have tried to give her flowers to make her feel better for the past couple of days.

Oh. Well, then. Namir is /very/ glad he didn't bring flowers, then. He can't help but smile a little wider at her opinion of flower-giving. "I think the intention is to brighten up an otherwise gloomy room and situation, but that is only one interpretation," he chuckles. "I am not particularly fond of flowers either. They wilt and die after a time and then leave a mess to be cleaned up later." Presents should be useful, meaningful. Bullets with names carved into them are so much better. He lets out a quiet exhale and adds, "It's fortunate that I did not bring flowers, then."

"Empty sentiment doesn't interest me in the least." Why is she talking about this with him? Viola frowns and tilts her chin up slightly. She's got to keep her dignity, after all. So, it would reason that an etched bullet resonates more with her than a bouquet of roses. Luckily for Namir. "Quite. I'm getting very adept at wielding this cane." Ah, Viola's is the driest of wits.

Very fortunate, then. Namir grins, stuffing his hands into the pockets of his slacks and glancing down the hall outside the Holcombe apartment. "Good to hear that you are adapting, at least." He glances at Viola again, frowning at the face he can see in the small opening of the door. "Though, of course, I wish you had no reason to adapt to such a thing." Just in case she misconstrued that.

Of course, Viola didn't think that Namir meant it any other way. Even if he shot her in the leg, he came all this way to give her a named bullet and to apologize. If he mocked her now, she'd simply have to shoot him in the face. And claim self defense. Not that she ever would. That'd be a gross breach of justice. "Sort of. Having to be on part-time duty is killing me."

"Duh duh duh, duh duh duh duh.. Smooooke on the waaaater!" is heard belted from the direction of the stairwell. (Elevators are acting up again!) The door leading into the hall opens noisily as Ethan slides on out of the stairwell, accompanied by a little air guitar. Or the best he can manage with a sack full of Chinese takeout in hand! "A fire in the sk… woah, what the hell!" That impromptu rock out session is brought to an abrupt halt as he sees Namir standing in his doorway. A dark expression creases his face as his steps hurry in the direction of his apartment.

"Try not being on duty at all," notes Namir with a wry little smirk. "Especially after having come off three weeks of forced medical leave." Yes, he definitely knows the feeling. Had it not been for William and the ever-patient Samantha, he might have been climbing the walls of his apartment. When Ethan makes his rather musical appearance, the Muslim's smile disappears and he glances over at the other man, taking a small step backwards when he notes Ethan's expression. It doesn't take a genius to realize that this person is Viola's husband.

Awkward? Well, yes this would be awkward. For Namir, maybe. Viola finally breaks into a smile when her husband appears down the hallway. "Hey Holly. That dinner?" She may have splurged and have dessert early. "I'd rather not," she responds to Namir wryly. "Ethan, this is Dayan. I'm sure you've heard of each other." Obviously. "He came to apologize for the events at the stadium."

Ethan looks angry, is angry, he found out about just who put that bullet in his wife's leg. But seeing as he's not the physical type, being the resident geek/forensics brain, he'll settle for looking pissed off at Namir's presence. Thank you very much. He edges around Namir and angles in to kiss Vi on the cheek. "Yeah, it's dinner." His tone is less than warm as he answers his wife, and looks over at Namir. A nod of acknowledgement is made as the introductions are given. Pardon as he's really not thrilled here, even if an apology is involved. His wife. Was. Shot. In. The. LEG. Legs that he's very fond of as a point of fact.

That nod is also returned, though Namir does remove a hand from his pocket in the event that Ethan wants to shake it. He doesn't. Namir can't rightly blame him, either. He smiles just a little, glances at Viola, and then shakes his head as he steps back more. "I should be going. I am sorry again, Lieutenant. I hope your recovery goes quickly and smoothly." And with that, he turns to start back toward the stairs. Stairs are better for his health anyway; he'd take them even if the elevators worked.

Not about to stop Namir from leaving, Viola just gives him a curt nod. He did what he came here to do and she didn't slam the door in his face. A successful night all around. Letting the door shut on Namir, she turns around to face her husband. "So, what'd you get me?" Taking the cane, she uses it to try and hook Ethan and pull him closer. See? It does have appropriate uses.

Ethan certainly does not wish to shake hands with a fellow NYPD person.. who shot his wife for no good or valid reason that he can discern. /Anyway/. The most Holly chooses to do now is sort of put himself in front of Viola best he can manage in the doorway there and glower at Namir in the wake of retreat. A glower that disappears when the door shuts and his wife hooks him in. Now he's smiling again! "Roast cat I think. Just kidding, duck with orange sauce."

"Mmm. Roast cat in orange sauce. I love it." Viola gives Ethan a kiss once she's hooked him and then lets the cane drop back to ti's intended purpose. "Stop looking like you just got a whiff of something sour. It's over. He gave me a bullet with his name on it." She holds up the box that she still has in her hand. "Weird guy."

Ethan returns his wife's kiss quitely firmly, but can't exactly shake that sour look on his face. "He what? Okay, that's officially creeped me out." He eyes the box that Vi holds up and simply shakes his head. "I won't go looking for his precinct and filling his cubicle with styrofoam peanuts or anything.. but he /shot/ you. What was he, drunk at the time? I'll drop it, but I still don't have to like the situation."

"Whatever he did, the charges were dropped." Viola's smile is faded and she shrugs her shoulders, heading back for the couch. "I didn't identify myself as a cop and I shot his partner in the leg for trying to take out civilians. So, he returned fire." That's the official story, anyway. "It was stupid of me, baby. Not saying I'm accepting his apology, but I doubt he meant to."

Ethan's response is a gruff sounding 'harrumph' as he gives his wife some assistance back to the couch. Once Vi's seated, he goes into the kitchen to dole out the Chinese onto plates. "That whole situation was messed up. Still. They were shooting at /civilians/. What the hell. Seriously. Someone, cop or not, was bound to take offense at it!" Not that he's still bitter about the whole fiasco. Not in the least. "Maybe he didn't mean to," he adds as he brings his wife her plate, a napkin and utensils. "Still. It's all messed up."

"Not saying it's not messed up," Viola replies as she sighs gratefully for being back on the couch. "The whole thing was. Is. Whatever. The apology is out of the way and we can go back to recovering and me getting back to the precinct. And where the hell I put a bullet with someone's name on it. It's weird."

Ethan parks his butt down on the coffee table as he regards his wife. "Yeah, I guess. Sure as hell ain't the same around the precinct with you not there to kick ass and take names." He cracks a smile for Vi, then jokes, "Maybe we can get it made into a pendant and you can wear it. Or incase it in some kind of paperweight."

Viola makes a face. "I'm not about to wear a bullet with Dayan's name on it. That's just…morbid." Though funny. Hm. It has it's merits, that's true. Something to think on later. "I like the paperweight idea. That way I can use it as bludgeon should someone try to test my authority. I like the poetry of that."

Ethan laughs and rises to his feet. A kiss is planted on Vi's forehead before he says, "Then a paperweight it will be. I think I know just the place to have it done too." Another kiss is given to his wife, this time on her lips, then he straightens up and gestures to the plate. "Eat up before it gets cold and we have to nuke it. It never tastes right after reheating!" Then he's off to claim his own plate from the kitchen.

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