2019-09-13 - The Captain is NOT Amused

It was loud, Shauna would say that much about the cell. That incessant rattling of the tin cup over the bars at all hours. More than once she'd yelled out a complain or two in the night. Needless to say she didn't sleep so well. After spending a good portion of her day swapping one liners with Rick, the prisoner was seated alone on the concrete slab with the thin mat covering it. Dressed in black and white stripes she looks the part of the criminal with those crappy slip on shoes kicked off. She's leaning back against bars, knees bent and her forearms resting there on her knees. The song she's whistling is the opening for Patience by Guns N Roses.

It's well into the second day of Shauna's confinement, that the cop who picked her up in the first place makes an appearance. There's a bzzzzt as the armoured door at the end of the hall opens, then bangs shut after him. Though he might not be immediately identifiable at a glance, given his attire this afternoon: a dark, trim suit and tie, with a crisp white shirt worn underneath. He looks considerably less the thuggish cop, and at least a little more legit without all that ink on display.

"Miss Carrick?" His voice is unmistakeable. Mexican gutter trash with a thin veneer of something almost Southern atop it. He's accompanied by a big black cop with a good 40 pounds on him and a set of keys, which he's currently fumbling through to find the one for her cell door.

Shauna continues her whistling even as the door opens down the way. Her brows lift though when she realizes who it was. The whistling stops the song and goes to that sharp sexy whistle. "Home boy cleans up real nice." Not that she's flirting. She's not. She's just being an asshole. "Welcome to my office, have a seat anywhere. What can I do ya for today?" There's not much movement from her, staying there on the mat. "Look. Just to be clear, I did not have sexual relations with that woman. And I didn't inhale!"

She can flirt or not; it doesn't look like the Hispanic captain is taking the bait either way. Hands pushed into his pants pockets, his ID and badge are likely visible at eye level, given where Shauna's sitting. Captain J. R. de la Vega, the former reads. His gun, too, casually holstered at his hip. He waits for the cell to be unlocked, and for his buddy (who appears to be a Sergeant Moretti) to clap a pair of cuffs on Shauna, before gesturing to the interrogation room across the way with a hitch of his chin. "Get you a glass of water?" he asks before they step inside.

"Fancy." Shauna says after reading his name. "A Captain." There's no missing the gun or the man himself. Or even the man with him for that matter. Her hands are given over for the cuffs, "Buying me jewelry already. Shiny." Girls got a mouth on her. She follows wherever they lead without any trouble. "I'd love a glass of water." Stepping inside, she takes a look around but really, if you've seen one you've seen them all. "Is this the part where good cop bad cop comes in? Can I place a wager on which is who?"

Not even a hint of a smile, when Shauna points out his rank. If he's amused, the man hides it well. His buddy seems a little friendlier, and actually makes some idle conversation as they traipse down the hall to the interrogation room. Yes, he's heard about that tin cup that's allegedly being banged against the bars all night, and he's terribly sorry she hasn't had a good sleep.

"I don't think that'll be necessary," the captain points out though, once Shauna's been offered the uncomfortable-looking chair on one side of the table, with him settling in on the other. The reason being? Moretti's got other shit to do, and promptly takes his leave, after flashing Shauna a good luck sort of smile.

The glass of water is slid closer, leaving a streak of dampness on the tabletop. Ruiz sits back and watches, and waits.

Leaving little doubt which was the good cop and which was the bad, Shauna even smiles back at the more understanding and quite larger cop. "Thank you Sergeant, it's been a pleasure." There, see what niceness gets you?

He leaves though and that leaves her face to face with Captain de la Vega the Fancy. So he was going to play the staring game. Two could do that. She rests her forearms on the table, one over the other, and she just watches him back. And waits. The water remaining where he had slid it.

Fancy? Not particularly. The suit fits well enough, but it's off the rack. Nothing an average working class salary couldn't afford.

He'll give her a minute to take a sip of the offered glass of water, but if she doesn't reach for it, there's a flickered smile before he starts speaking. "I'm required to inform you that you have the right to a lawyer, first off. Is there anyone you'd like to contact before we begin?" His posture is languid, but not quite lazy; there's a subtle tension in his bulky frame, and a sharp quality to his dark-eyed gaze as he meets the brighter greens across from him.

Idly, Shauna taps the pads of her fingers on the table. Her nails aren't particularly long, her hands are hard working with a callous or several on them. The water is finally reached for when he starts talking and she takes a sip.

"Do I get my one phone call?" This asked as she slides her glass back on the table. There's no hint if she is calling her attorney or not, but she calmly asks the question without any rejoinders. Her fingers begin to tap again as she continues to look at him.

"This isn't the movies, Miss Carrick." He looks briefly amused at that. "You're entitled to inform your family, if there's anyone you need to notify of your whereabouts. And as I just said, if you have a lawyer you'd like to speak with, you're certainly welcome to call them, too." A glance to her fingers, then back to her face without a shift in his expression.

"Then I will take the phone call, if I'm so allowed. I need to pass along the information of my arrest." Shauna says, just leaning back in the chair as she watches him. Lacing her fingers together on the table, she just watches him. "I realize this isn't the movies. If it were then I'd be out on bail already."

The glass of water is left there between them, and he eases back in his chair a moment to tug his cell phone out of a pocket, and slide it across. Must be a burner or at least his non-personal device; there's no password to get in, and no contacts to be found if she goes snooping. Inked fingers clasped atop his stomach, the cop waits patiently for her to make her call.

Without a word, Shauna takes the phone and for once she doesn't snoop through it. A number is dialed and she waits. One ring. Two. Then an answer. The voice sounds foreign. Not Irish like Shauna but ... Chinese? "Mr. Kao. Yes I will wait." It's not long about 20 seconds when the voice comes back on the line. "I want the Sesame Chicken, One eggroll and a Large tea." She'll go on about delivering it to the jail if he doesn't take the phone away from her though, and she'll just stay on. "Anything for you, Captain?"

Nope, not even a hint of a reaction to the little stunt. He may as well be a brick wall, for all he seems to give a shit that she's fucking with him. He will however reach for the phone when it's clear she has no intention of making a legitimate phone call. Probably about halfway through her instructions for where to deliver it. Maddeningly calm as the thing is lifted to his ear, and a brief apology offered, and request for the order to be canceled. Assuming, of course, that she doesn't fight him on retrieving the phone.

There's no fight, there's no reason to fight. Shauna gives it up easily. "Have you even tried the food they serve in here? By the time I get out I'll have lost any muscle mass I've gained and my boxing and hand to hand is going to go to shit. I need some good carbs." Again, she reaches for the water and takes a sip. "I have no lawyer. I have no family here. There's no one to call." The words are delivered with a clipped tone and no apology. So, it's a standoff with neither one talking. She does watch him though, in silence.

The phone is hung up eventually, and tucked back into his pocket. He's brought with him a file folder of some variety, and slips a pen out of an inner pocket of his suit jacket. "I can arrange to have you connected with pro-bono legal advice, if you like. It's not your first offense, so I'll warn you that if it goes to court, they're going to be less lenient on you. Might get off with a fine. Might not." He scrawls something down on a notepad. "So no family in town at all? Nobody I can contact for you?" His dark eyes tick up again at that.

Shauna knows her list of offenses. At least he doesn't read them off back to her. "If I take pro-bono legal can I or can I not bond out? I assume if I had the money to bond out they'd assume I had money for an attorney." Someone's been there, done this before. "So if I take Pro-bono, I'm stuck here until my court date." It's something to consider. Green eyes look away at the question. "My family is in Ireland and the one shot I had at a job isn't hiring. I'm fucked."

"You can be released on bail at my discretion, actually. Yes." He regards her steadily at that. The implication being, he can choose to be lenient, if she gives him reason to be. "Where are you staying currently, Miss Carrick?"

Damnit. It was a question that Shauna didn't want to answer. "I'm not a flight risk. I'll show up in court." Eventually she realizes he is going to hold out for her response. "In between my home that's in impound currently and the shelter." Her eyes flicker away as she hears that tin cup on the bars and she flinches. Was that laughter?

Ruiz jots something else down on her file, eyes flicking up occasionally to the girl, particularly as she seems to get distracted by something. "I need to be able to vouch for that with a little more than your word, I'm afraid, Miss Carrick. I'll look into a few things though, and get back to you. You're sure there's no-one you'd like to call?" A touch of compassion in his voice there. Just a touch.

Oh damn don't feel sorry for her! "I made my choices. My circumstances are of my own making." Kind of. "The only thing I have of value is my vehicle and you've already got that. And my knife." Her only means of protecting herself. Against anything serious anyway. "There's no one I can call."

There's a pause, and then a nod from the veteran cop. The contents of the file folder are gathered up and shoveled back inside, and his pen slid into that inner pocket of his suit jacket. "Then I'll be in touch." With that, he pushes to his feet and prowls for the door, which is nudged open in advance of a brief conversation with the big guy waiting outside. "Ready to go?" asks the Sergeant, and unless stopped, the Captain is headed off to other business.

That leaves the Sergeant to return her back to her cell and Shauna doesn't put up a fight. Once there, she holds out her arms so the cuffs can be removed. She doesn't stop the Captain, she just goes back to the cot and goes back to whistling her song rubbing her wrists as she whistles this time.