2007-06-16: Drive-By Storm

Starring:

Niki_icon.gif Evelyn_icon.gif Dorian_icon.gif

Guest Starring:

Cocky Drug Dealer, Drug Dealer With Gun, The Other Guy

Summary: A drug dealer in the East Village has his eye on Evelyn; Dorian has his eye on revenge; Niki just tries to stop people from… you know, dying. Things sort of blow up in everyone's faces. So to speak. (No explosions, though, I swear.)

Date It Happened: June 16th, 2007

Drive-By Storm


East Village, New York

The streets of the East Village are busy today with traffic, while the sidewalks are less congested; people stroll casually from point A to point B, for the most part. It's overcast and dreary, but a few stores are having sidewalk sales and panhandlers are out in full force. Down in a less-than-upstanding part of the Village, however, cutting through an alley, is Niki. She has her arms wrapped about herself in a less-than-comfortable hug as she slinks between the dirty walls with their rickety fire escapes and boarded up windows, but it's not her surroundings that have her feeling nervous. The shortcut will, gradually, take her to Enlightenment Books. And going there does not feel like the best idea ever.

Last time Evelyn came around this way, at least with any time to spare for browsing, it was Enlightenment Books having a sidewalk sale. Today, she weaves her way through the people on the concrete, slowing down to survey one of the few tables that catches her eye. The teen apparently isn't intrigued enough to do more than look at it, however, and continues on her way before too long. For once, Evelyn is without her backpack; she wears a short-sleeved hunter green tee, light blue jeans, and as always fights a losing battle to keep her hair out of her eyes.

Stepping out into the relative lighter sidewalk, almost half a block from most of today's sidewalk sales, Niki takes stock where she is; it's getting easier, now that it's been a few months, to realize what street connects to what. She holds up a hand to shield her eyes - cloudy though the sky is, it's bright in comparison to the shadows. She begins the treacherous process of trying to cross the street.

Meanwhile, a middle-aged man paws over an assortment of knickknacks at a table set up on the sidewalk behind Evelyn. His clothes, green sweatpants and a blue-and-grey plaid shirt, are stained and tattered; his auburn beard hasn't been shaved for who-knows-how long. He may very well be homeless. He holds up a tiny crystal rabbit and inspects it, frowns, puts it down. He follows along behind the teenager several feet behind.

Having been in New York for the better part of a year now, Evelyn has reluctantly become accustomed to sharing the sidewalk. So she pays less attention than she might to those around her, looking ahead instead to where she's going. Coming up to an intersection, the teen offers the guitarist who's set up shop on the corner a neutral smile, stepping around the handful of people lingering nearby to listen. Since the light isn't yet in her favor, Evelyn pauses there, shoving stray hair back out of her face again and finally giving up on it, digging in her pocket for a hairband.

Niki steps up onto the curb not far from the guitarist where Evelyn and the small crowd gather. She barely gives them a passing glance, instead just slipping past unobtrusively, a blonde in a long-sleeved lavender shirt and a pair of tight, dark jeans. It's obvious that she's on her way somewhere, stepping into the alley between two nearby buildings, keeping en route with her shortcut. Much like the other alley, it's typical, dark, dirty, and cramped, only this building is more run-down.

Across the street, the shabbily dressed man clutches onto the black knapsack he has slung over one arm and watches Evelyn even after she's crossed. He raises a hand as if to get her attention, a worried look on his face, but a pickup truck with a tall cab ambles by in the traffic and blocks him from sight. Meanwhile, in the alley on the /other/ side of the building, a younger man steps out. He's just as scruffy, but a lot more on edge. He sneaks into the crowd, hands in his pockets, and chooses to hover near Evelyn. "Hey, sugar," he says lowly, threateningly, "You like to buy a perfect high?"

Suddenly faced with a stranger nearby and addressing her, Evelyn shies away. More so at his tone and choice of words. "No, thank you," she replies, the words polite but her voice flat and definitely leaving no doubt the teen really means it. She's not interested in the least. Evelyn moves to continue on her way, not taking her eyes off the young man as she goes. Her hair problems have been forgotten, band still looped around two fingers, though the black strands whip freely about her face in the strengthening breeze.

A young man approaches from mid town, the warm air blowing through the blonde curls of his hair. He digs around in his pockets and produces a pack of cigarettes and a chrome lighter. With a quick flick of his wrist, a yellow flame emerges from the Zippo and he lights the end of his smoke. As he takes his first drag, he leans up against a red brick wall and keeps his eyes open for potential business. He spies a drug dealer talking to a young lady and his eyes narrow a bit, almost as if he is familiar with this particular dreg of society. The young man spits on to the sidewalk and glares over at the dealer, "HEY DICKHEAD!" he shouts as he pushes himself off of the wall and goes to chase after him. Years of smoking leave him slightly winded as he catches up with the man and without any hesitation lands a right hook to the dealers jaw, "That's for Rain."

"Well, I think, I think you do," the man insists, jostling his hands in his pockets. There's a frenetic energy about him that suggests he probably has whatever it is he's selling already coursing through his veins. He eyes the other pedestrians, tips his head down and starts following Evelyn. His steps are brisk, but not out of place on a New York street. "Pretty little thing like you, I think you wanna—" Whoa! Suddenly, he's whirling around just in time for some curly-haired kid's fist to just barely miss his right jaw. "Who the hell is Rain, you little bitch!" His hands emerge from his pockets to shove Dorian angrily. For now, he's forgotten about Evelyn — but his friends, in the building beside them? They open their door. Loom, loom, loom.

Niki, as it turns out, never quite makes it through the alley; the shouting behind her on the sidewalk draws a glance over her shoulder, she stands there, torn. These kinds of things happen a lot in this city, and it's probably nothing… still, she finds herself back ath the mouth of the alley looking out after a moment, looking hesitantly down the street.

Dorian lands on the sidewalk and wipes a spot of blood from his lip, "The blue haired, /girl/ you sold that dirt to last week," he growls as he pulls himself back up off of the ground. Still shaken, he looks around realizing he might be out numbered by the drug dealer's cronies.

As the druggie talks after her - follows, too - Evelyn's pace quickens, until she's just shy of running. Not that it does her much good, until that voice shifts to cursing. The girl whips around to see what's happening behind her, silently thanking the blonde for the distraction provided. The open door hasn't eluded her notice; Evelyn keeps to the very extreme far side of the sidewalk, just barely short of the parked cars along the gutter. Still thinking she can walk out of this and leave it all in her dust.

"She /wanted/ it," the dealer spits back at Dorian. "She's a good customer. Begging on her knees. Tell her, I have a special deal for her next time." He lifts a foot off the ground as if readying to kick the young man, who is just about the same age as he is, but it's just a fake-out, trying to get Dorian to flinch. "Stay outta my business, punk," he threatens and starts ambling backwards toward the door of the building. He was all on his own when it came to tagging Evelyn, but his cohorts aren't about to stand for anyone messing with one of their own, so they keep doing their looming-in-the-doorway thing. One of them fingers something in his coat.

Niki watches all of this, frozen - and she's not the only one, since others on the street are gaping, too. Most of them just cross the street to avoid a mess. Have any of them thought to call help? Probably. Have any actually done it? Probably not. The blonde stays where she is, save to duck back into the cover of the alley ever-so-slightly, waiting it out a bit longer. It looks like it's breaking up, right?

Dorian clutches the sides of his head as he starts to shake slightly, "She didn't deserve it, she was so close to getting out," he yells. He catches the guys in the doorway, but doesn't seem to care that they could do more than beat him, ten to one they could just kill him. He takes a deep breath and a few beads of sweat drip from his forehead.

Evelyn watches the dealer retreat to the door, eyeing the cluster standing just inside. In theory, they'll all go inside and this little episode will be over… until Dorian yells after them. There goes that idea. "Are you suicidal?" the teen hisses at the blonde man - never mind the fact that, in taking time out to do so, she probably just put herself in the same category.

Maybe, just maybe, Dorian is not suicidal after all. The dealer just holds his hands up - 'what can you do?!' - and grins. "Not my problem, man!" he shouts back. Waving off off the young man, he heads up the steps into the building…

…when a beat-up Camaro slows down at the curb, coming from the direction Evelyn is facing. The backseat window facing the sidewalk is already rolled down, and when it gets just close enough? Someone in the back takes a shot at the cluster of drug dealers. The first shot -just barely- misses Evelyn, whizzing past her head to hit the cocky dealer in the shoulder. The second shot lodges into the brickwork of the building, creating a spray of dust. Hello, drive-by!

In the alley, Niki cringes and backpedals all too swiftly. Every gunshot elicits the same wincing response. She's had more than enough of that sound. The second shot is close enough that the dust from the bricks drifts in front of her face, too close for comfort, but there are, at least, things to hide behind. "Hey!" she calls out, waving toward the relative safety of the alley for those caught in the crossfire: Evelyn and Dorian. "In here. Keep down!"

Dorian takes the advice of the blonde woman and runs towards the alleyway, he isn't stupid and prefers to keep shrapnel out of his diet. After diving onto the dirty ground he watches with glee as the dealer takes a bullet to his shoulder and can't help but chuckle to himself. "SERVES YOU RIGHT, ASSWIPE!" he shouts across the street, of course at this point he is merely trying to get the attention of the dealer's friends, not really considering anyone else around him.

The gunshot that goes whizzing past her ear paints the matter in a whole different light. Evelyn yelps, raising her arms in a pointless attempt to shield. What she doesn't do is run or duck, a different instinct taking over. Dorian's timing is impeccable, as he dives into the alley just ahead of the gust front - a tornado-force wind that starts at Evelyn's position and blasts outward in all directions.

Windows shatter. Bricks fracture. Any people within fifty feet are likely to find themselves suddenly on the ground at best, and not gently pushed. The car beside Evelyn is relatively safe, but others within the same range are lifted; close ones even thrown. Many of the little trees planted in an attempt to make the street look nice snap like toothpicks. At a hundred feet, branches break. At a hundred and fifty, people just find their hair mussed by a freak breeze.

In the wake of the microburst, Evelyn seems more dazed than anything. The chaos around her does not compute; neither does the trickle of blood the teen wipes from her nose.

The drug dealer with the bullet in his shoulder goes down with an angry cry, his heel slipping on the steps. One of the two behind him catches and holds him, cursing at the top of his lungs at the car while he tries to haul his pal in. The other man whips out the gun he was fingering and is about to pull the trigger to return fire when a FREAKIN' WINDSTORM COMES OUT OF NOWHERE.

Seriously, what's up with that?

The wounded dealer flies backward into the building, knocking both of his partners down behind him. The man who was about to fire accidentally lets his bullet fly and it passes through the window of a storefront across the street. The windows on the drug den rattle and, unstable in their fittings, shatter. The rivals in the car start swearing. They take this opportunity to fire more shots in the chaos, but only add to the chaos, gunshots going wild. The car revs, preparing to speed off.

A bullet ricochets off of the fire escape. "Do you want to get us killed?!" The blonde seems to be thinking along the same lines of Evelyn as she says this to Dorian - he voice is much more hushed, but no less intense, than the young man's. She hurries her way further into the alley, sliding down the wall to crouch behind a dumpster, sandwiched by that rusting metal box and the bullet-dented fire escape beside her. She leans ahead on her heels, staring out into the street with a fifty-fifty mix of horror and worry, especially as she hones in on what she can see of Evelyn. After a moment's hesitation, she pushes back up to her feet, running with heeled boots onto the sidewalk and wordlessly holding a hand out to Evelyn.

Dorian doesn't seem to listen to the either one of the ladies as he runs back out of the alleyway, not really sure about the weather here in the north east. He crosses over the street back to the wounded dealer and throws another right hook at the guy, vendettas tend to make people act in the strangest way.

Preoccupied with confusion and the matter of blood on her hand, it takes Evelyn a moment to register that there's someone /else/ coming at her. After recent events, she takes an automatic half-step back, long black hair snapping in another gust of moving air. But this one is no more than a breeze; no repeat of the devastating blast ensues. The teen finally looks at Niki, then her outstretched hand, and back up to her face - and, equally wordlessly, sets her clean hand in it. She's too bewildered to do otherwise.

This is one drug dealer who is not having a great day. First, some indignant kid tries to interfere with his business and stops him from getting the girl he had his eye on, then he's shot, knocked over, and now he's punched in the face. Dorian's fist graves down his jaw and hits him in the chin, sending his head flying to the side. "Motherf—!" His friends are clambering to their feet by this point. They took quite the spin onto the floor. When they comprehend that Dorian is beating on their cohort, they try to scramble up faster, one of them on the hunt for his gun that went flying. "What's your deal, man?! Get the hell outta here before my friend plants one in your skull!"

Niki offers the teenager a soft, encouraging smile - I'm trying to help you, it says without so many words. "You're bleeding," she points out with confusion as much as concern. "Are you hurt?" Now that they're hand-in-hand, she gives Evelyn's a reassuring squeeze and starts jogging back to the alley, but stops halfway there, looking over at the young man and they drug dealers. "Go into the alley - you look like you should sit down."

Anger starts to turn the young man's face red as he looms over the drug dealer, "I'm thinkin' I would rather avoid that," he says, "But what the hell, I've had a good life." Dorian takes another swing at the dealer and then produces a switchblade from his pocket, he presses down on the button, letting the blade unsheathe and slices at the dealer.

"I don't… think so," Evelyn replies to Niki, her tone at least as confused. The nosebleed has already stopped, leaving just a slight smear on her face and what's on her hand. Unlike everything else in the street, Evelyn seems pretty much untouched by the freak weather. The teen follows the woman readily enough, blinking when she stops and glancing back towards Dorian and the dealers. Oh, right. Them. Violet eyes return to Niki at her words, and Evelyn nods readily. That about describes how she feels. Releasing Niki's hand, she turns back to the alley, which probably means her murmured "Sounds good." doesn't carry well to the person it was meant for.

The drug dealer's eyes light up with an incredulous variety of fear; obviously, he didn't expect so much from this boyish young man. "Punk is crazy!" As he uses the doorframe to haul himself up with his good arm, he can't avoid the slashing switchblade. Luckily for him, he's wearing a bulky hooded sweater (good for concealing things that need to be concealed) and the blade catches in the heavy fabric, grazing him. But his wardrobe's not going to save him for much longer, considering it's ripped open.

The drug dealer who has found his gun and moves to stand in the doorway, however? "Well then, say your prayers."

Niki looks back into the alley where Evelyn seeks sanctuary, then in turn to the escalating fight. Someone's going to get killed. Getting close? A bad idea, because then she's among the people who could get killed, and she just got over getting shot! Bad. Idea. Conflicting thoughts rush through her mind until time is getting thin and Niki is running toward the drug den. First things first, she grabs for the back of Dorian's shirt to pull him off of the drug dealer. Second order of business? Try to haul him away before someone gets shot. Which is, you know, any second now.

Dorian pulls his shirts out of Niki's hands, "Watch it lady," he growls, then hears the loud BANG sound of a pistol. He drops back down to the ground as the bullet barely misses him. This time he seems a little more shaken than the first couple of times he put his life in danger today. Trying to keep his cool and hide the fact that he is starting to hyper-ventilate, he collects himself on the ground. His hands are obviously shaking as the blade of his knife rattles back and forth in it's case.

The armed dealer rumbles when he's a split second too late. Meanwhile, his pal drags the wounded man through the threshold all the way - *bump*. "Stay out of our business, I'll kill the both of you here in the street before the cops can blink," the man with the gun threatens. It's not an empty threat. He fires.

… *click*. Nothing happens. "Ramirez!" he calls out behind him. "We need more guns, man!" In the meantime, he tosses his into the building and starts advancing. Despite his words, sirens sound in the distance. Someone must have called after all.

Bad. Idea. "I'm just trying to stop this from getting worse," Niki hisses through her teeth to the shaking young man, never letting her intensely anxious blue gaze leave the doorway for more than couple of seconds at a time, if that. "You really wanna get yourself killed? Or go to jail for manslaughter? 'Cause that's what's gonna happen. And I dunno what's worse. Just come with me!" Less violently, but just as forcefully, she tries to grab the guy's arm to run down the street.

Short breaths fill his chest as the red color in his face dissipates and changes to an unhealthy shade of white. In his weakened state he doesn't have the strength to pull away from the blonde woman again and is slightly dragged down the street with her. His skin is clammy to the touch as cold sweat starts to pour down his back and he feels his legs start to get rubbery. As he tries to calm himself down he feels his eyes roll into the back of his head, hypoglycemia and near death experiences don't mix well and he falls back down to the concrete with a heavy thud, splitting his lip again and leaving a small pool of blood under his mouth on the ground.

From her place in the alley, Evelyn leans against a wall and listens. Sirens slowly make their way closer through New York traffic. Voices carry - mostly people yelling about the damage to their cars, or the buildings, cursing freak storms. Or whatever that was. She hears no more gunshots, which is a relief. Not enough of one for her to go back out to the street quite yet, but a relief all the same.

Niki, for one, can't afford to be anywhere near the scene of a crime. The blonde woman wastes no time in charging toward the alley with Dorian - she's focused and in one hell of a hurry. That said, she doesn't even notice the guy is about to pass out on her until he's on the ground. Her steps catch on the sidewalk as he's suddenly no longer attached to her. She spins to stare down in surprise, but kicks back into gear in no time, crouching and pulling the man's body up. She pulls him over her shoulder, wraps her slender arms around him, pushes herself up and starts for the alley again. He's slight, so it's not as awkward as it could be. Everyone just ignore the fact that dead weight like that should be making the slim blonde stagger more than it is. In the alley, she falls into a slightly breathless crouch in the process of setting Dorian down by Evelyn, propping him up against the grimy brick wall carefully. "Are you okay?" she asks of Evelyn, falling into a slightly breathless crouch. "He just passed out on me."

As Dorian's body shakes his eyes start to flutter open and his pupils try to focus on the sight of the two women. In a weakened southern voice he asks, "What the hell? Why did ya'll let him go?" He wipes his wrist across his mouth, clearing away some of the blood and wiping it on the front of his shirt, "Shit," he says as he looks down at the crimson stain left on his arm, "How'm I suppose to work now?" he asks, not to anyone in particular. He reaches into his pocket, not realizing he left his only blade at the scene, and pulls out a pack of cigarettes and a Snickers bar. He opens up the candy and takes a large bite out of it, slowly chewing, trying to get his blood sugar to go back up. Being the classy guy that he is, he lights up a cigarette mid-chew and takes a drag just as he swallows the piece of chocolate.

Having never carried or attempted to carry quite that much weight in her life, Evelyn wouldn't think twice about how Niki should be carrying Dorian - even if she were more in a state to be noticing such details. "I'm all right," the teen affirms, nodding slowly. She looks down at Dorian for a minute, then glances towards the street. "I'm just… I don't know. Confused," Evelyn admits. And tired, but she chalks that up to the fact that her system's no longer flooded with adrenaline. She still jumps when Dorian suddenly speaks up, stepping away from the wall.

"The police'll take care of him," Niki says with a one-shouldered shrug as she watches the awaking Dorian with concern. It's probably a lie, unintentional, but she knows it. Those guys probably wouldn't still be in business if the police could get involved as much as they want. When the woman stands up and folds her arms across her body, her furrowed brow takes on a sentiment other than worry. "Look, you don't wanna go… taking things into your own hands like that. Just… trust me. You'll only wind up regretting it." Blue eyes look from Dorian to Evelyn and linger there, perceptive. She'd be confused, too. Sirens scream and blip as patrol cars roll down the street to the site of the drive-by. Niki holds herself a little tighter, shifting from boot to boot.

A cloud of bluish smoke escapes from Dorian's lips as he looks up at Niki with his own baby blue eyes, "Yeah right," he says with just a slight bitter tone in his voice, "That douche bag killed my friend. the cops won't care, they'll just see it as one more dead tranny hooker." He rubs the sides of his temples while clutching his cigarette between his lip, "They don't really see working girls and guy as contributing members of society, so we end up at the bottom of their priority list." He pulls himself back up, still a little shaky from his fainting spell, and alternates his cigarette for another biter of his candy bar.

Evelyn blinks as Niki looks at her; apparently made self-conscious by the woman's observation of her, her own gaze soon falls to her hands. Which reminds her of the hairband she never did put on, still caught on her fingers. The girl gathers her hair and proceeds to wrap the band about it as the patrol cars pass their alley by. She then makes a futile effort to wipe the drying blood off on her jeans. Dorian is given a sidelong glance… but Evelyn makes a visible decision not to weigh in on that subject. Instead, she studies the destruction beyond the mouth of the alley, brows drawing in.

"Yeah," Niki says in matter-of-fact agreement. She doesn't blink an eye. "You know, you're right. I know where you're coming from. Really. I /do/." She sounds pretty damn serious, too. She shakes her head, subtle, barely jarring her straight, blonde hair. "But what would happen if you woulda killed that guy? You woulda had to live with that for the rest of your life. Probably in jail, where he should be instead of you," she concludes with a one-shouldered shrug. She glances to the street. "I'm about to get out of here, do either of you need … help? Getting home?"

Dorian shakes his head, "I don't see how jail is any different from this," he says motioning around the dingy alley. "I'mma try to salvage this night and see if I can make some scratch. Besides I wanna be here in case he comes back," he the southern accent in his voice makes it really hard to tell when he is angry, since almost everything he says sounds singsong. He leans up against the filthy brick wall, letting the red light of the cherry on his cigarette halo his face as he looks out to the street.

Looking back at Niki as she addresses the both of them, Evelyn doesn't immediately answer. She looks out at the street, around at the alley, then to the woman. "I can get home okay - but, if you don't mind the company, I'll walk with you for a bit?" Because being alone here no longer seems like a very good idea. Violet eyes flick back to Dorian. "Good luck."

Everybody has to fight their own battles. Niki just purses her lips into a concerned sort of frown for the Southerner. "Just…be careful." She steps through a haze of Dorian's cigarette smoke to walk with Evelyn, who she offers a kind, if somewhat troubled, smile to. She touches a hand lightly to the girl's back, a protective gesture, as she heads down the alley - the opposite direction from which she came. "Where're you headed?"

Dorian politely nods back to the two women as the leave, "Never really needed it for work, but thanks," he says, looking back at Niki and shyly says, "And, umm, thank you too." He puts his back up against the wall and tries to wipe away any obvious signs of blood on his shirt and mouth.

Offering Dorian a reflexive smile before she turns away, Evelyn follows after Niki. "Hm… any given subway, really; eventually down to the Bronx." She glances back over her shoulder towards the street they came from. "Hopefully Mom isn't home yet," the girl says under her breath, as she turns back around.

Niki looks back over her shoulder, and though she doesn't say anymore, she does smile very slightly before turning the corner onto the street. Walking with Evelyn, she eventually drops her hand, but watches the girl sidelong. "It… got pretty crazy back there, huh?" she begins on a casual note, but… there's no hiding the caution in her voice. "You ever see anything like that happen before? The crazy wind, I mean," she clarifies, "Not the… drive-by. Though I guess that's a good question, too."

Quiet is fine by Evelyn, as she takes the time to reflect over the day's events. Niki's smile goes unnoticed. In fact, Niki's presence seems to have fallen by her mental wayside altogether, up until the point where the woman reinitiates the conversation. "Hm? Yeah, you could say /that/ again," the teen says emphatically, shaking her head. "No. I've seen crazy /weather/, sometimes, but nothing like that." She smirks faintly. "Or the drive-by. But at least I've /heard/ of those." Evelyn looks sidelong at her companion. "I take it it's news to you, too? Not normal New York summer weather?" She can wish.

"I'm not from New York, but it seemed kinda outta place," Niki replies, humouring the girl with a smile. "It really wrecked some branches and caused some … serious damage." She tucks a strand of pale blonde behind her ear as she walks. "I think there's a subway up that way," she points before letting her arm fall casually to her side. "You know… you were right in the middle of it. The wind," she comments, leaving that statement hanging.

Evelyn smiles crookedly, and shrugs. It was definitely out of place. "Where are you from, then?" she asks into the pause, before also looking around the street. It's not a very familiar one. "Probably is," the teen agrees. "They're just about everywhere." She pauses as Niki resumes speaking, gaze returning to the woman. "I know. It was… very strange," she concludes, rather lamely. Evelyn frowns again, thinking, her thoughts troubled.

Niki leaves Evelyn in silence with her troubled thoughts for a little bit, a few moments, before she answers. "I'm from Nevada," she eventually says. "Well. Mostly." There's another pause before she speaks again, growing thoughtful herself as she watches the sidewalk. The subway station is nearing. "I'm Niki, by the way."

Brought out of her thoughts, Evelyn looks up at Niki. "Oregon, here," she supplies with a smile. "Nice to meet you. I'm Evelyn." She glances down the street, spotting the sign for the station. "Guess this is about my stop. Thanks for walking with me."

"It was nice meeting you too, Evelyn," the blonde woman says as she comes to a stop, smiling with sincere warmth at the teenager. There's still that edge of caution in her expression; a wariness. It's as if she's continually on the verge of saying something important but never does. "You're welcome. Be… careful. Okay?"

Odds are, Evelyn assumes Niki's caution has to do with the scene they just left. She simply returns the smile. "I will. You, too. Have a -" 'Good' doesn't quite seem appropriate. "- better day!" she adds, before heading into the station.

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