nevegallus | (no subject)

Entry tags:

(no subject)

The Second City of Darrow spits her back out as unceremoniously as it had accepted her, and Neve doesn't even take the time to wipe the ash off her clothes before she goes to Darrow's Precinct 2. She steps in and the same officer is behind the counter as the last time she'd been, and this time she throws him a bone.

“Neve Gallus for Daniel Sousa,” she says, and remembers not to sit in the uncomfortable chairs lining the wall. The officer looks at her wide-eyed before hesitantly asking, “Are you okay, Miss Gallus?”

“Never better, why?” she asks, canting a wry smile his way. He doesn't seem like he wants to point out the soiling of her clothes and hair.

“A-are you here to report a crime?” he presses. He looks her over again slowly, almost pointedly. Even her metal leg is diminished in shine by the ash settled into its carving.

“I've told you why I'm here,” she points out. He hesitates again, so she sighs softly. “Look, just call him, won't you? He's expecting me.”

Finally, the officer turns to his phone and lifts the receiver to his ear.

Flat | Top-Level Comments Only

Daniel was elbows deep in beginning of the month paperwork at least in a figurative sense since most of it was on the computer these days when Sergeant Woodward called back to tell him that his 1100 appointment was here. Daniel didn't actually have an 1100 appointment in his calendar, but the situation became clearer once Daniel found out it was Neve.

He agreed to come up and get her, then moved most of the remaining actual paperwork off his desk. That meant it went into a file drawer and he'd have to deal with it later, but he liked a fairly clean desk when he had guests, especially guests who were as observant as Neve. She could almost certainly read upside-down while not appearing to do it.

He pushed open the door to the lobby and glanced at her. She was nearly always perfectly put together, so to see her covered in ash, well, it explained why she was here. She must really have something to tell him.

"Good morning, Miss Gallus. Did you get a new job cleaning chimneys?"

"Neve," she reminds, and reaches up to brush a smudge of ash off her nose. "And would you guess? The hook's great for gripping the brickwork." She twists her thigh to show off the severe hook at the toe of her prosthetic. "I told you you'd be seeing me again. We should talk in your office."

"Wouldn't have guessed that, but good to know."

Daniel signed her in quickly and then held the door open so she could step into the non-public areas of the precinct. She got a few interesting glances as they walked to his office, but he ignored them and he was sure she did too.

Once they were safely inside his office with the door closed, he motioned to the chair in front of his desk.

"Are you alright, Neve?"

She doesn't sit, though, remaining standing behind the chair so she doesn't get ash all over it. She doesn't pace, either, even though she wants to.

"Sure," she says easily. "I've just got back from a jaunt to a second Darrow. Wouldn't recommend it — not much to look at. Also, the population are monsters."

"You can sit - that's Naugahyde, which means it wipes clean," he told her as he went around his desk to his own chair, which was also made of Naugahyde. He had no idea why it was called Naugahyde, but it was. There certainly wasn't any creature called a Nauga.

"Monsters? You're gonna have to be more specific."

He believed her immediately, but he needed more details.

Neve doesn't hesitate to sit this time — she's not going to presume to know Daniel's furniture better than he does. She settles into the seat and shifts her right leg, taking the weight off it. She's been walking for hours, and it feels good to just sit, even if she doesn't totally relax.

"Monsters," she repeats. "Creatures that aren't human, elf of dwarf, some without arms, most without faces. All of them ready to kill you at the first sound you make."

It wasn't exactly an expression, but there was a shift in her face that Daniel thought he recognized. Getting off a prosthetic after being on it for too long just felt like a relief.

"Oh, that does sound pleasant," he replied wryly. "I see they didn't succeed in killing you."

He was glad for that. If no one had known she'd been in that second Darrow, no one would have known to go looking for her when she didn't come back.

"I'm a mage," she says. "It takes more than a couple of monsters to bring me down." Certainly Daniel knows nothing about Aelia or Minrathous or the Venatori, but Neve's been through a lot more than a second Darrow that wants to kill her, and while she knows better than to get cocky, she's also confident in herself. "But in this case, I mostly avoided them where I could. A friend noticed they avoided places of worship. Not sure why. I couldn't sense any magic that might cause it. But it's clear that the ash we saw on Valentine's Day is from this place. Somehow, it was coming through. Probably the same way the monsters have been, and the same way I did."

"And that way is what?" he asked. "Or where, which is probably more useful."

If they needed to arrange for a patrol to be lurking somewhere watching for monsters, they needed to know where to do that and how. He was glad she'd survived and that she knew sometimes it was best to avoid the monster instead of directly confronting it.

"It was gone by the time I crossed through," she says. "Which isn't to say it won't be back, but it seems unlikely. Still, I've already marked it on my map, if you're of a mind to keep an eye out."

She reaches into her jacket and pulls out her journal. Inside she has loose pages, and one of them is a map of her own. It's not the one that came with her packet, but one she'd purchased after the fact. It's been scrawled on, her cramped handwriting stretching down streets and over buildings. She opens and re-folds the thing up until she shows him the stretch of city she'd been walking when the rift had appeared.

"Here," she says, handing it to him so he can take note.

He took the map from her carefully, since she'd clearly spent a lot of time making her own notes on it. Her handwriting was small, but he could mostly read it. It was interesting to see what she considered important enough to note on her map. Some things were obvious but others he wasn't sure about. He wouldn't ask, though. If it wasn't related to their discussion today, he didn't need to know about it.

He jotted some details about the location of the entrance or portal or whatever it was in his own notebook, then looked at his own map of Darrow, which was under a glass desk mat. The desk mat kept things he wanted available at all times clean, and he almost always wanted a map of Darrow available. There was also a very small piece of paper that simply read Safe Harbor. Most people assumed it was from a fortune cookie, since it was the same size and shape. It wasn't, and not just because most fortune cookies weren't printed on an actual typewriter.

"I don't think anyone has reported anything there before. That's Precinct 1, though, which means I'll need to talk to someone else to be sure."

Edited 2025-06-16 16:16 (UTC)

"The boy on Valentine's Day," she says. "I'm confident now that it's related to this other Darrow. Have you gotten any reports about attacks like that?" She hasn't been assigned to this case, not exactly, but she wants to know all of the details she can. The more she knows, the better prepared she can be.

"Not exactly like that, but there's definitely been a few more reports of things that make even less sense than usual," he replied. That wasn't breaking OPSEC, since some of those things had been in the paper here. The really detailed stuff wasn't, of course, but the generalities were sensational enough that reporters were happy to cover it.

"People who said they saw monsters that weren't there, people who say they were attacked by something that our sketch artist said was gonna give her nightmares, things like that. Sound familiar?"

"It sounds like the right track, anyway," Neve agrees. She shakes her head, sending soot cascading to her shoulders and the arms of the chair. "I don't suppose I'm allowed to see the sketches?" she asks. Daniel seems more by-the-book than Rana ever was — or maybe Neve just hasn't found the thing that makes Daniel decide the book isn't always greater than justice.

She looked like she was getting ready to consider wheedling him, if a leading question wasn't enough. He didn't have a particular issue with letting her see some of the sketches, but if he could get a little more information for the case in general, he'd do that too.

"I don't suppose you'd be willing to sit down with the sketch artist to see if the things you saw were the same or different?" Daniel returned. This felt like a verbal version of the swordfight that had been in one of the movies Tom had suggested they watch last weekend, which wasn't a bad thing.

Neve looks quietly pleased. She can work with quid-pro-quo. It will help her and Daniel develop a foundation of trust in their working relationship. Neve doesn't trust easily, and she suspects Daniel is the same — but if they can come to rely on each other for information, they'll both learn they can trust the other over time. This will be a good start.

"An hour or two of my time in exchange for shared knowledge?" she says. "I think I can handle that."

He thought he was starting to understand what motivated Neve, or at least what the best way to work with her was. She preferred an exchange, so far as he could tell, although he was sure if he left this office she'd start snooping, at least visually. That was why there was nothing in particular for her to snoop right now, which she had to know he'd done.

"I appreciate that," he replied, because he did. "Do you have any preference for the gender of the sketch artist?"

They had a few on contract with and he didn't truly know if Neve would prefer any gender for whatever reason, so he'd offer that and let her decide.

"I'm not picky," she says, half flirty and half serious. "Do you want me to sit with them now while it's fresh?" She knows the importance of immediate evidence gathering. The fresher the memories are, the more likely they are to be accurate. Even going home long enough to wash up and chance could interfere with that. She doesn't mind another hour or two of discomfort for the sake of accuracy.

He was fairly certain Neve flirted because she was breathing rather than actually thinking it would work on him. If she was thinking it'd work on him, well, she was wrong. He'd never been susceptible to that, even before he was taken.

"Let me find out if someone's available," he replied, and picked up the phone. He punched in a couple of numbers and waited for it to ring.

"Good morning, Micah. I've got someone who might need to sit down with a sketch artist. What's your day look like?"

He listened for a few moments then nodded. "Alright, thanks. I'll let them know."

He put the phone down and looked up at Neve.

"Micah's available now and until 1500, in case you'd like to go home and change and come back."

"If your Micah is available now, then I'll do it now," she says decisively. "And then you and I can work out the quid-pro-quo once I've washed up." That seems fair enough to her, and she's willing to trust Daniel to hold up his end of the bargain after the fact. "Work for you?"

"I appreciate that," he replied. "And then we'll make an appointment for you to come back and take a look at some of the other sketches. Don't try to wheedle Micah into telling you, either. Micah will tell me if you try it."

Micah was immune to wheedling, so far as Daniel could tell. The man drew amazingly well and was very good at coaxing descriptions out of people, but he was not at all interested in anything related to cases other than making his sketches.

"Daniel, you wound me," she says, not sounding very wounded at all. "I'm a professional. I know when and when not to play my hand." Besides, she's very good at reading people. It's possible Micah will give away something in his expression, whether he means to or not. So far, only Daniel seems to be especially good at schooling his features.

"I'm sure I do." His expression and tone indicated that he was sure he didn't, since her voice sounded very much not wounded as well.

"Do you want to stop by the ladies' room and maybe wipe your face down? It's up to you. Micah won't care, but if you do, we have time."

It only seemed polite to offer that to her, since she'd said she didn't want to go home and change.

"Sure, may as well," she says with an easy shrug. A few minutes to wipe her face down won't be a problem for her memory, at least, and it'll make her feel just that little bit better. "I suppose if you have a tea or coffee I won't say no, either," she adds, giving him a little wink. He seems to understand she's harmless when she flirts, at least, and there's probably a reason for that, but she's glad they're on the same page.

"I wouldn't personally recommend the coffee, but it's hard to screw up hot water," Daniel replied. She was flirting again, but not with intent, and he was ignoring it anyway.

He stood up and went around the desk to hold the door open for her. She was a lady, and he held doors for ladies.

"Ladies' room's the third door on the left," he said. "I'll wait for you outside. Also, there's no window in there and the air vents don't go anywhere interesting ."

He doubted she was planning to flee out the window or go into the vents, but he'd just point it out.

"N'aww," Neve says, really laying it on thick now, complete with a pouty little smirk. "I'll bet you say that to all the friendly material witnesses." She ducks into the bathroom and tugs a paper from the dispenser, then wets it at the sink. She takes in her reflection and realizes, now, why Daniel offered so many times to let her go home and come back after changing and washing. The warm brown of her skin is streaked in sickly gray, ash clinging to her — the valleys where her nose meets her cheeks, the dip below her lower lip, the cupid's bow beneath her nose, the creases of her eyelids. On the rise of her cheekbones and the flat of her forehead, she's got a fine dusting of the stuff, like the powders a street performer might wear.

"Kaffas," she whispers, and she shakes herself. She uses the towel to wipe herself down, then grabs another and repeats the process, until she looks a little more like herself — saving a few ruddier streaks where she'd pressed a little harder against more stubborn ash. That done, she bends to drink some water direct from the faucet so she can rinse her mouth out a couple of times.

She straightens and takes in herself again, then goes so far as to let her hair down and shake out some of the ash. It snows down onto the floor and she doesn't even care. Well, she cares a little. Whoever cleans up the precinct isn't going to have a fun time with this. But it feels good to get some of it out, and her hair is closer to its glossy black than 'old crone grey' when she returns it to her twist. All of that done, washes her hands and then finally exits again.

"There, see?" she says, affecting that same playful tone. "No escape attempts. Mark it down for the record, won't you."

While she'd been in the bathroom, Daniel had stepped into the sketch room next door to make sure it was ready to go. It was not an interrogation room since people who were providing sketches weren't suspects, so it was a little more comfortable. It was still a police room, but it wasn't that bad.

That didn't take long, so he was waiting outside the door when she opened it again. He made a tally mark under an invisible column when she came back out looking a lot more like herself. He also made a mental note to ask Katarina to clean that bathroom soon, since he was going to bet there was ash on the floor now.

"I appreciate that," he said. "Micah will be here in just a minute, but the sketch room's right here."

"Thanks," she says. "I'll make myself comfortable, and you can get back to your duties." Her smile is more sincere for a moment, and as she saunters in to go sit, she pauses and turns to look at him.

"Daniel... just how many people do you bring in that try to escape through the toilet?" A curious grin dances around her mouth, wondering if the number is especially high that he felt the need to tell her of all people.

Daniel made a non-committal noise. If they were really flight risks, they didn't get to go to the bathroom themselves. There had a few people through here who had tried the bathroom trick to get out from under the eyes of someone, though. He wasn't sure which movie had convinced them that was going to work, but it pretty much never did.

"Thanks for being willing to help out with this. Let Micah know if you need to talk to me after you're done," he said.

At that moment, Micah walked in with his sketch pad and supplies. The man was medium height, blond, slim, and had a very prominent brow ridge. He was as distinctive as the sketches he tended to make.

"Have a good day, Neve. Micah, I'll be interested to see your sketches."

Flat | Top-Level Comments Only