2010-07-14: Detective New Age-y



Date: July 14, 2010


It's Yusef's first day at the Police Department and the welcome is mixed.

"Detective New Age-y"

Downtown, NYC - Police Station

It's a rainy day in New York City, which has little bearing on the indoors — save for the mood of those shuttered inside while the summer sky decides to split open outside from ominous clouds. Here at one of the city's police precincts, that mood is naturally running a little grey — but that doesn't stop the fact that there's work to be done. There's a certain hum in the air that interrupts the usual din every now and then, speculation and expectation among the masses — and comments such as "new blood comin' in" and "who said we needed another detective anyway?" and "hope he fares better than the last one".

The negative crowd is always more vocal than the positive.

Belonging to neither crowd is Detective Powers. The particular mood of this member of the force, as she strides away from the busier bullpen into a quieter zone, is, by and large, hard to read. The worn brown leather jackett and the drops of moisture flecked on it say she's been out and about recently, as does the faint, disorderly curl to her damp ponytail. She's rarely in the same place for long these days. One thing that can be said of the woman's neutral expression is "thoughtful" — and it's seemingly lost in this thought that she heads to the dim corner of the station known as the break room, with its single wooden table and tightly arranged amenities. It's not particularly cozy — probably so no one lingers too long.

She isn't alone in the less than homey environment; two blue-clothed officers have put their heads together in front of a coffee maker that needs some 'gentle' encouragement to work every morning. "Don't know why they keep bringing them in, when they could be promoting from within their own ranks," complains the one, fingers curled around a mug that has no liquid. Officer Joe Parker is the other, and he's more bent over the machine with a look of teeth-biting-lip concentration than the conversation. "Uh huh." "It's disrespectful, that's what it is."

"Obviously, they do not think the… pool of prospective candidates is worth their time. " The words are calmly spoken and extremely blunt in their delivery. And while they are accented, there is no mistaking what he said. "So sometimes, fresh blood is necessary." Dark eyes move from one officer to the other, before settling on Maggie.

The dark man stands behind them, holding a mug in both hands, black curly hair falling to brush the dark blue jacket he's wearing. Moving closer to the coffee machine, the mug is sets down on the table as if waiting for it to be freed up. "If you are unaware of why they are bringing in new people, then I suggest you look within yourselves for your answers." A hand motions between to two in uniform, his expression staying neutral, showing nothing that his words might be conveying.

While caffeine seems too shallow to be the all-encompassing thought on Maggie's mind, it's the coffee maker she makes an unerring beeline for, until she comes up short, realizing — through the sounds of gossip and those familiar uniforms — that it's already drawn a crowd. She seems ready to slide in amongst them anyway, and would have, if it weren't for the new voice drawing her attention; she turns toward the accented voice, the unfamiliar recruit's face getting a deep study by the bright-eyed detective. After a slow, steady, possibly approving stare and blink, she steps to the counter.

"More promotions within the ranks would require more people to pass their detective's exam," Maggie tranquilly points out, the smile she gives the complaining officer unassuming and without particular mockery. Noticeably, however, she doesn't cast a glance in the direction of Joe. "Excuse me, officers— " she switches the coffee maker's illuminated switch off, reaches behind it, unplugs it from the wall, plugs it in, and switches it back on. "Sometimes it just needs a little boost."

Seeing the counter space become much more popular has Joe Parker nudged off to the side, and he's fairly content with that. His hesitant administrations on the coffee machine yielding little anyway, and now some kind of personal bubble keeps him from approaching where Maggie is. A hand darts, though, at his companion, when the more disgruntled person mutters something not quite inaudible enough about how he'll be looking at whose ass is being kissed — and something to the effect of "detective new age-y."

The next time he speaks up, it's with a pointing gesture at Maggie, herself, as she exercises that most basic of machinery techniques — turning it on and off again. "Maybe they ain't giving anybody a chance; don't we keep hearing about how there's not enough room anyway, Joe, don't we. Hey," a nod at the blonde, "You ain't from around here, neither." A sort of companionable glance, again, at Joe, who is unwilling to meet it still, "See how well that turned out."

But enough making friends; once the coffee maker's plugged back in, he goes right to seeing if it works. He was first in line, after all. There's a bit of an irritated gurgle but then — ahh, fresh brew. (Okay, 'fresh')

"And that gentlemen is why she is a detective." The 'new blood' offers with a hint of a amusement showing, a hand motioning to Maggie as if the reason was standing right there. "Observe and learn from her example and you will be enriched for it." Now whether he believes his own bullshit is another thing. "If the detective is not from around here either, then I say that clearly speaks volumes for the level on which they think you are.

"I am Detective Yusef ibn Dib." Though it's offered more to Maggie then the others in the room. "Are they all like this?" It's asked curiously, as a thumb is jerked in the direction of the uniforms.

A reserved smirk lying in wait just under the surface for the comments of the newcomer, Maggie spaces herself from the uniformed officers once she's sure the coffee maker has sprung to life, taking several paces away from them — an invisible barrier. "It's turning out just fine," she replies to the more vocal officer with a calm, contented voice to counter all the disgruntled mumblings.

She situates herself parallel the other detective, though at a fair distance even in the small break room. A glance — faintly critical, a little harder — is rolled to the officers. "Like what?" She gives Yusef a small, knowing smile, nearly a smirk. As if she doesn't know how they can be; she knows too well, but seems rather unbothered by it. She extends a hand toward the newly placed detective, a narrow wrist escaping the leather cuff of her jacket as she has to turn, step closer and reach. "Detective Maggie Powers. Welcome aboard. Where are you from?"

Grumpy drifts off to get back to his beat, and his pointed look and impatient hand-gesture suggest he'd be taking his buddy with him, but Officer Joe detaches from the grouping of 'like that' to, instead, awkwardly but determinedly approach the two conversing detectives. The invisible barrier keeps him hovering and shifting his weight at a distance, but it's still clear that, hands broaching his back pockets to keep them out of the way, he's aiming to contribute with a sign of permission he's too shy to actually ask for.

Turning slightly, Yusef's darker hand wraps around her lighter one, giving it a small gentle squeeze as he inclines his head just a little, strands of black curls sliding into his view. "It is a pleasure." Her hand is released, and his mug retrieved, the desire for coffee forgotten at this point. "Originally? Iraq." The smile he gives her is a small one, that doesn't reach his eyes. "However, I have been in the United States for quite some time now."

It's not something he'd like to discuss, so he turns to the man waiting ever so patiently. "Yes?" He asks, brows twitching upward with curiosity. The officers reluctance to speak seems to amuse the Iraqi.

Conversely, the grip of Detective Powers is strong, firm — professional as it is friendly, but she returns her hand briskly, almost abruptly. "I meant where did you transfer in from," she clarifies with a quick, good-natured grin of amusement.

Meanwhile, she isn't, for a second, unaware of Officer Parker's hovering; she ignores it at first, throughout a growing stiffness in her posture (tense muscles that are half-hidden, at least, under that durable, slightly oversized jacket). Even as Yusef acknowledges the guy, Maggie doesn't — not until, several long seconds later, she folds her arms and sends stark stare the officer's way.

This officer in question gives all to Maggie that she gives to him: nothing. She might as well be invisible, even when she looks his way. Joe's purposeful maneuvering to never glance her way makes him stare twice as much at the floor or at Yusef's face, creating an unnatural length of time on both these subjects. "I just wanted to say welcome, detective," he announces when prompted, shifting to the other foot for the billionth time and then tugging his hand from his pocket to offer it to the higher ranking officer.

"Parker. Officer Parker, um, obviously. Anyway," yeah, this is pretty damn awkward. But not without its attempt at friendliness. Joe even smiles when he looks at Yusef again, after he spares a glance to where his less amiable 'buddy' went. "Good luck and all. You'll, uh, probably not need it… you look capable and all. But, hey," he shrugs, "this job surprises you." A cynical flavor thins his smile, but it remains as he gives a sort of waving-salute and then moves to stroll around him. Not them. Because Maggie doesn't exist, see.

The detective takes the mans hands firmly, looking all the word amused. "A pleasure." Yusef offers. "And thank you." The amusement probably stems from the surprise comment, since their ideas of surprise might possibly differ. The wave of farewell, is returned in kind, before Yusef turns that dark gaze to Maggie.

"There is hope for that one, yet." There is a hint of a smile. With the coffeemaker free, Yusef heads straight for it. His head bows a little as he pours the black concoction into his rather plain mug. "Any I should be particularly aware of?" While his head doesn't move, his eyes lift to look at her from underneath equally dark brows.

Hope … no comment. Maggie strides through the space the very awkward officer left, squaring her shoulders, pushing away some feeling or memory. Her destination: one of the small cupboards, where she reaches up above her head (albeit not far; she's far from height-challenged) to retrieve a mug, one emblazoned with the dark blue NYPD logo mugs.

"Aware of. Of your new colleagues?" No wait for clarification — Maggie cooperates good-naturedly with an answer, "Yeah," says the detective as her hand draws down from the cupboard, looking over to Yusef. Her voice turns deadpan: "Me." But it's countered by a flickering mild smile and a hint of a shrug. "Apparently." She heads for the coffee maker. "I'm not in the habit of speaking ill of anyone." Usually. But she's not in the habit of listing any exceptions, either.

That actually gets a chuckle out of the man, his head shaking slowly, the coffee pot returned to it's station. "So no heads up, hmm?" Yusef gives a short stiff nod of his head. "Fair enough. I will learn the hard way." Not that he even really sounds all that concerned about it.

Taking a step away from the machine, his mug is gestured her way. "But I will make sure to stay aware of you, detective." His amusement clearly stating he doesn't really believe it's necessary. Turning away from her, Yusef takes a sip of the still black coffee, watching out of the break area. "I am looking forward to seeing what cases are being worked on currently."

Maggie, at the coffee station, looks briefly over her shoulder and back. "As long as you're not too aware," she warns while finally pouring her coffee. It isn't left as black as Yusef's — she busies herself adding this and that to it, though not enough cream or sugar to make it remotely weak — she has to stay awake. When she turns around, she's gesturing with a spoon. "Homicide?"

With being turned away from her, she doesn't get to see the corner of his mouth tug up on one side. Not too aware? Impossible. Another longer sip of his coffee is taken while he watches officers talk, unphased by any glances sent his way. Her question does end up making him turn back towards her, eyes going to the spoon in her hands.

"Yes." The answer is simple and clipped, gaze snapping up to her face. "I hope that isn't a problem?" He watches her response carefully. "I've devoted my life to chasing dangerous people… killers some. Narcotics… not so much."

One detective's face studies the other — Maggie watches Yusef just as he watches her. "That you're on Homicide? It shouldn't be a problem, detective." But then, Officer Parker did have some wisdom back there — this job surprises you. The largely unreadable expression she walked in with has returned, quite serious next to her wielded spoon. She turns about, giving her coffee one last stir, if the clink of metal against the mug is any indication. "You never said where you transferred from…"

"Just figured I'd make sure, since many seem unhappy with me merely being here." His black brows lift a little as he adds, "And I transferred from the west coast." It's offered without hesitation, another sip of coffee taken before supplying, "LA to be exact," before she can pry further. "What about you, detective?" It's asked out of politeness then anything else, he watches her over the top of his mug.

"Well you don't need my approval to work the division," Maggie comments easily. And: "You're an awfully long way from California," she notes also before she turns around. Not that she has any room to talk, as her answer, the one quiet words that follow, place her from an awfully long way away as well. "… Wyoming. Two years ago." Now that her purpose in the break room has been taken care of, she doesn't seem inclined to loiter — her boots already begin to carry her toward the door, coffee firmly in hand.

"Yes… I am." Yusef say with a small nod of his head. " It just about as hot, crowded and noisy as LA. If anything, people around here are louder." He states plainly, swishing around what coffee is let in his mug, thoughtfully, his eyes watching the liquid. "But I was a long way from New York when I went there… So… I guess you could say I am returning in a way. Though last time I lived here I was not a detective." The lies just flow from his mouth in practiced ease, it's almost scary how easy it is to lie anymore.

There's no particular indication that Maggie either believes or disbelieves the smooth lies coming from the man — but her eyes are certainly attentive when she slows at the break room door, turning with a hand on the frame, to regard him. Hers is the kind of gaze that misses nothing, that catches what's often overlooked. "I'd say welcome back… but… I can't claim the city. If you stay here too long— " Here, the room they're in; she gives it a quick glance, " — they'll think you don't want to work." Another hint of a smile eases her statement, and getting to work herself, she pushes off the doorframe, heading off.

"Mmm… Can't have them thinking that now can we." Yusef comments a touch blandly as she leaves, watching her with curiosity. It will be a challenge to see if he can fit smoothly into detective work, since investigation is not much different then he usually does. Glancing down at his cup, to see what little is left, the Company agent can't help but think… Thank you, Angela Petrelli.

Yusef always did like a challenge.

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