Date: May 7, 2010
Sam meets the DA.
"Who's on Top?"
New York County Supreme Courthouse
Tall, monochromatic, judgmental; this isn't a description of a person but the looming facade of the gray pillars and carved reliefs of the New York County Supreme courthouse. Though those noble stairs are oft tread by fellows of similar constitution. The mild, somewhat cloudy day puts a colorless air over an already stark image, leaving much to be desired from those bland dress shirts and black women's pantsuits moving up and down to accommodate the lunch hour.
Sticking out of this crowd like a beacon is a strikingly pink scarf. It winds around the neck of District Attorney Jocelyn Danvers as she braves the front stairs in strap heels that bolster her already notable height. The trim cut of her pale gray suit coat, open just enough to let a lacy blouse front peek out underneath her silken accessory, has a tiny black belt pinching off a tight waist. That strict skirt is made a little less so as it reveals legs from here to there.
Clip-clopping towards the front door, the woman checks an antique pocket-watch with the urgency of someone who already knows she's running a bit behind.
Running after her, carrying some papers in hand, Sam traipses up the steps, "Danvers!! Ms. Danvers!" Frowning, Sam knows that he won't get her attention unless he catches up. Face-time with a DA isn't a common thing, particularly one like Jocelyn Danvers. Unlike a lot of detectives, he's dressed in blue jeans and a blue collared shirt. Finally catching up to her, he falls into step and pulls out his badge. "Detective Sam Wright — NYPD." He flashes her his most charming toothy-grin.
"Ms. Danvers — " he smirks. "Can I have a minute or two of your time. I promise it's not for questioning," his Southern accent drips with extra charm, yup, he wants something and he knows it.
The woman isn't utterly emotionless to the sound of her own name; she just expects that she'll be followed up the stairs because in the middle of them is not a great place to park yourself. Other harried clients, annoyed workers, and late prosecutors flee its length on by them, likely to let anyone they hit go bowling back down if that means not stopping. "A minute," she declares immediately before even glancing Sam's way. "Maybe half."
When she whips her head to the side, her blond hair drifts over her shoulders, settling nicely. The detective's less conventional attire seems to move her none; she's the one wearing pink to an apparent black and white ball here. "Usually guys who don't make appointments don't even get that much. But what can I do for the NYPD today, Detective Wright?"
"All the time I need — " Sam smiles smugly while the papers are thrust towards Jocelyn, "Look. I know you know the current gang situation that's taken over around here." His eyes narrow into small slits while he runs a hand through his hair. "Look, Ms. Danvers, I need your okay to question the Takahashis. We need information, more information — plain and simple. One of the vics in Battery Park had their tattoo. We know its associated with them. I propose that we bring Natsumi Takahashi in for questioning; we need to get the bottom of this." And then, in a borderline sarcastic tone he tacks on, "Ms. District Attorney."
Jocelyn's lips make a fine thin across her attractive face as she regards him a bit more wholly than the cursory glance he was given upon arrival. Carefully, she collects the pocket watch and tucks it into a suit pocket. "First of all, Sam Wright," she replies, in a firm but not entirely humorless tone, "You can use my name and title in a proper manner, or I expect you to call me Your Majesty with that tongue. Second of all," this she prefaces by taking a hold of the papers she's given. She does each line of text the credit of being scanned over with all the seriousness she takes to her job. "I don't feel that a single tattoo is enough to bring in a name as powerful as Takahashi. We pull her in, the press is all over it."
Sam smirks at the Your Majesty comment. "Sure, blondie, Your Majesty, it is." He winks before crossing hers arms over his chest. "How can you suggest that the tattoo isn't significant? Honestly, we'll be lucky if we can find anything else. I'm tryin' to pin this on them. We know they did it, but if I can't question her, how am I supposed to be able to ever make an arrest?" He clucks his tongue and leans agains the railing. "Let the press all over it, who cares about the press?"
"Let the press all over it?" Jocelyn deadpans at him, "So you're one of those cops. Look. Sam Wright." She steps to look him straight on, pulling her shoulders to a taller stance that is, indeed, quite tall for a lady. Those heels, man. "That tattoo is more than likely significant. It is not, however, indisputable proof. It's a tattoo. They aren't exactly contraband. For all I know, you have a Takahashi tattoo on the ass you're so willing to hang out to dry in front of the press."
"You can see my ass, any time, Your Majesty. You won't find a Takahashi tattoo there. Maybe the name of an ex or two — crossed-out." Sam smiles that charming toothy grin he wears so well. His weight is shifted to his left. "Or are you harbouring a Takahashi tattoo on your ass, Majesty?" He smiles sweetly now before holding his arms behind his back.
Perhaps beyond all common sense in the situation, Jocelyn can be seen grinning at his replies. "Only crossed-out? What, too much of a baby to get them removed, or do the girls you date not notice any difference anyway?" She holds out the papers for him, polite as can be, instructing him to take them, do better, and come back when he has. "You'll be glad to know you didn't waste your half a minute arguing your case. My regards to the NYPD, Detective Ass." Clip-clop, she takes the next stair and the couple of steps onto the main ledge.
"Nah. It's my version of notches in the bedpost. Why get it removed when I can keep a permanent record on my ass," Sam smacks his own behind while half-smiling slyly and then pursuing the DA, papers in hand. "Oh grand Queen of the DA, what kind of evidential offering would be worthy for ya?" his tone drips with sarcasm. "I'd hate to waste your time again." He winks.
Upon being pursued, she eyes him perhaps more generously, though Jocelyn's pace slows not an ounce to show for it. The clicking of her heels is constant as they head towards the doors to the inner sanctum of the written law. "You… remind me of someone," she admits, shyly looking away for the first time and taking comfort in the familiar structure ahead. It must be this realization of familiarity that finally stalls her; she stops walking, abruptly, and spins to face him. "Something that'll stick. If we take her in for questioning she can plausibly wiggle out of, the family will stuff so many complaints, suits, and jokes down our throats, the office will never want to touch her again. You either have a case or you don't with these people."
"So to even bring her in for questioning we need to have records — phone, bank accounts, some tangible connection to the vic?" Sam's eyebrows furrow. "So it can't even be something as simple as the people around the vic recognized Takahashi associating with him? That's not enough?" His eyes narrow a little as he shoots her another smirk. "I just hate wasting your time and like to stay on top of my cases. I'm betting you're the same way."
"When is it ever that simple, detective?" Jocelyn poses, a bit more sympathetic seeing as how, phrased so, his job isn't exactly the walk in the park he's dressed for. "Define associating. We're associating right now. That guy there," she gestures around Sam towards a man on his phone who glances at them as he strolls by, "Could recognize us talking together. Would the defense tear that apart in a court of law? Holy shit, yes." Tossing her head back, her shoulder shifting before she brings a hand to tuck it behind her ear, she evaluates that smirk: gives one as good as he does. "It's a good thing you're talking about cases, detective. Can't both be on top in all things."
"Well theoretically, I'm under you already, Your Majesty. You control how I proceed in all ways at all times. Must feel good to be the woman on top," Sam clucks his tongue as he shoots her another charming grin and straightens his collar. "Alright, so what if we can peg multiple associations, Majesty? Is that adequate? You and I are having our first-ever association here and now. But say, if we associated another time… like tomorrow, 7 PM, at Starbucks down the street. Would that hold up in a court of law?" His eyes glimmer with mischief.
Jocelyn's arm come up to slide past each other as she crosses them under her chest for what is the third and finalized examination of the detective in front of her. "Multiple associations," she repeats, affirming, and most definitely in all serious reference to the case. "Multiple associations and proof of illegal activity and/ — because you seem like such a go-getter — why don't we include Ms. Takahashi on tape incriminating herself. You come up with a game plan to get me these things that doesn't suck, and I'll even pay for your first Frappucino, gunslinger."
"Right. I'll get you a game plan and you get me an arrest warrant. And maybe something even better." The DA earns herself another smile from the police officer. "To a beautiful friendship, ma'am." His smile grows. "It's a date, Majesty," Sam winks again as he takes a step down the stares. "You'll get your plan, and I'll get my frap. A woman on top always manages to stay there."
"You're right," Jocelyn's voice follows him merrily, "You might even get a search warrant." Suggestiveness tips up the corner of her smile, those arms braced underneath her chest only aiding the cut of her jacket around her body as she seems to stand there, just for him. Then click of her heel as she begins to prepare her first step. "Play your cards right, you'll get that Takahashi tattoo on your ass after all. I have upmost faith in you, Detective." Clip-clop— she's off to apologize to whoever had actually scheduled their time right.