2010-01-28: FB: It Wasn't My Fault



Date Set: April 27, 2009


Cop and robber are interrupted by a car crash.

Nine Months Ago…

"It Wasn't My Fault"

New York City

What looks like an elderly, well dressed gentleman stills, a gasp escaping. Its a tribute to Quinn's acting, because her gift doesn't cover her voice, that the gasp does have the hoarse, shaky sound of an older man. "What are you doing?"

However good an act it is, it isn't doing anything to make Matt look less annoyed about the situation. "Let's take a walk, all right? We got some security footage that I think you'd find real interesting." It's totally a bluff - he's not about to admit how he really knows the man is up to anything - but maybe it'll shake him up enough to draw out a confession. Yeah, he should be so lucky.

The man shoots a surprisingly clear eyed, rather amused, skeptical look. "Really?" keeping the sound of his voice appropriate, "I would love to see your security footage." straightening a little more than he should be able to.

Matt smiles faintly. Gotta keep up appearances, for the sake of the hosting family, if only to keep them out of his way. (There are plenty of others besides the father who could get in the way of things here.) "The booth's out back," he continues, smoothly directing the old man away from the crowd and out of the house.

The old man follows peacefully enough. He probably figures.. he can get away more easily outside the house anyway.

Once the pair have reached the sidewalk there is a squeal of tires. A car somewhere down the street is going just a tad too fast. Looking down at the cd player, Hallis shakes her head a little and attempts to switch the song. She always hated that song. Mostly because she hated its singer, a worthless tramp of a woman that tried to get in between her and her boyfriend. It worked. As the silver beamer zips down the roadway, she's not paying too much attention and the second she looks up there's a boy looking directly at her. A boy that just wasn't there before. Then came the crunch as he hit the windshield. And the blood that blinded her vision… Then…


One silver BWM convertible nearly bisected against a traffic post.

And just like that, the policeman's priorities are upended once again. "Crap!" Letting go of the old man's arm, Matt turns and takes off at a run in the direction of the noise… it may mean the thief will get away scot-free, but the likely need to go save a life or two takes precedence. Unless he's an honorable enough crook to stick around and help?

Quinn is really tempted to dart out. But after a moment, the older man rushes toward the accident scene, way too fast (not supernaturally so, just not like an old man), saying in a voice that sounds disturbingly.. female now. "What do you need me to do?"

The horn is blaring due to the young and unconscious blonde's head on the steering wheel. The hispanic boy who literally appeared out of nowhere lays in a crumpled heap in the middle of the road. Dead. The hour isn't late enough for traffic to completely stop, yet it does, before the boy gets run over more than he already is.

Lucky for Quinn, the noise and the glare of headlights is enough to keep Matt's attention focused forward; he just assumes that one of the other party guests was nearby and just ran up. "I don't know yet," he calls back to the unseen assistant, "just stay close and don't get hit yourself!"

Making his way over to the boy first, he kneels down and checks for a pulse, then shakes his head. "Call an ambulance just in case, but I think he's already gone. I'm gonna check on the driver."

Quinn finishes the shift as she kneels beside Matt. She nods, now a delicate looking brunette in a pair of jeans and t-shirt, blue eyes looking worried as she pulls a cellphone from a pocket to call 911.

Matt glances back and nods to Quinn in turn, before going over to peek through the driver's side door. It's hard to tell for sure without a flashlight, but the young woman has her seat belt on, and otherwise looks not too badly injured. "Hello, can you hear me?" he asks, rapping knuckles against the glass - carefully, in case it turns out to be near to cracking.

Quinn gives the emergency services the address, and as many details as she can. She walks over, offering the phone. "Its the 911 operator."

The horn, the rapping on the glass, the yelling. It's all too much noise for the headache that's taken over in Hallis' head. "Unnnfff… Make itstop…" she groans, rolling her head to the side. An action that just so happens to ease the pressure on the horn. When that stops, she opens her eyes to see the man outside her window. "What… what happened? How…?" She fumbles, trying to release herself from the restraint and free herself from the destroyed little car.

Matt works at the door handle from the other side for a few seconds. "I don't know, we were too far away." Then he reaches out to take the phone from Quinn, moving to switch places with her. "Detective Parkman," he responds, walking back toward the boy in the middle of the road and listening for his thoughts to double-check. No, either he's dead or he's at least firmly planted in a coma.

Quinn moves back from the accident. She'd really be no help there. Probably a good time to sink into the crowd and escape, but.. she can't leave this here, not if she can help.

When the car door opens, the little blonde spills out like she's made of liquid. She doesn't reek of alcohol, for once in her life, but she's definitely not all there. Once she's picked herself up off the sidewalk, she examines her car and lets out a small wail. "Oh no… my car!" Then she turns toward the black haired boy in the road and frowns. "Where did he come from?!"

Sorry, Hallis, can't help you there. Matt offers the blonde a helpless shrug, pacing back and forth as he fills 911 in on a couple more minor details. With the pedestrian clearly a lost cause, he returns to the hunk of metal formerly known as Hallis's car, ready to lend a hand in case she collapses or hurls or anything like that.

Quinn moves back a little. She says, uncertainly, "I.. you probably don't need my help anymore." hopefully.

Hallis grabs the woman, the witness. "No! No you can't go! You have to tell them it wasn't my fault!" Of course it's not her fault, nothing is ever her fault. The little socialite is in tears now, her car has been destroyed, there's a body on the road. "Please please, you have to stay and tell them it wasn't my fault!"

Matt grits his teeth. What is it about old money that turns people's narcissism up to eleven, anyway? Not that empathy would help the body on the road, but its absence is still really grating.

He may not have been an eyewitness, but he can at least dip into her recent memories… It seems like the guy really did come out of nowhere (because he literally did), but on the other hand, didn't she take her eyes off the road for a few seconds right beforehand? Those few seconds might have changed everything. And she's hyped up even more than he'd expect from pain and shock; a familiar and not too surprising variety of hyped up, in fact…

"I'll stay," he replies, "but I have to tell them the truth. And the truth is? It doesn't exactly look good for you."

Quinn tries to tug away. The hand seeming to grow smaller, fingers longer.. fingernails shorter as she reverts more to her original appearance.

"No no… No it wasn't my fault!" The tears spill down the young woman's face in rivers as she leans back against the hunk of metal that was once a beautiful car for support. "He jumped out in front of me or something… I didn't mean to… It wasn't my fault!" The tears turn to sobs and those turn to loud hiccups and the hand is finally let go as she presses both of them to her face to let out an over dramatic bout of crying.

Matt shoves his hands into his pockets, going back to pacing. There isn't much else to be done, it seems, until the ambulance shows up; he doesn't berate Hallis any further, but neither does he offer any words of phony comfort. He'll follow her to the hospital to get checked out by the experts, and then it'll be her time to face the music.

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