2019-10-05 - Meanwhile, At The Station

Apparently it's never too late to call a DA to the station. Or someone is just over-eager. Cassidy stands behind the main front desk next to the officer receptionist. She holds a very large tumbler for coffee in one hand and uses the other to flip pages in the bookings log. Resting on her face are very large and very dark celebrity-style sunglasses.

It's getting pretty late in the afternoon at the precinct. You can tell it's getting late because the investigators who usually bring the place to life aren't present. They're either done for the day or they're out in the field.

Haven is neither of those things. She's in the investigative area, not too distant the front desk. Instead of her uniform, today she is wearing a grey pantsuit and a baby-blue button-down shirt. Shuffling papers, she gets up and heads towards the front desk and the large fax machine there.

When she pops out of the hallway and spots Cassidy, she halts. "I thought the DA's office kept banker's hours," she says with all the dreamy awe in her voice she'd probably have if she saw a unicorn wandering the streets. "Can I help you?"

Nevermind the receptionist. Who has probably already helped the Assistant DA.

"It's my week for the pager, and the way it's been going I thought I should stay close." Cassidy answers without looking up from the log. She takes a long sip from her coffee container while those sunglasses are still pointed at the paper. She turns a couple more pages with her left hand and then huffs and closes the book. "This town must set a record for disorderly conduct per capita."

She turns to point those giant lenses at Haven. "Are you a detective?" she asks, noting the civilian wear.

"For the moment," is Haven's answer to the question, a smile playing across her lips and breaking up the powerful RBF she tends to wear. "I usually work a beat, but they needed a few extra hands on the Kruger case." She moves her suit jacket /just/ so and reveals her badge in a case next to a new looking leather-holstered Sig Sauer.

"Do you want some coffee? Perhaps... a unicorn donut?"

Cassidy shakes her tumbler of coffee and takes a sip. She shakes her head while doing so to answer about the donut.

A slender hand reaches behind her and pulls a pager with a clip off the waist of her pencil skirt and shows it as her own 'proof' to Haven.

"They haven't gotten anywhere on that, have they?" She takes another sip and returns the pager, then offers that hand toward Haven, "I'm Cassidy. The new ADA."

Haven gives Cassidy a long look at the refusal of the unicorn donut. What strange creature is this? Who refuses a donut? This doesn't compute.

Her brain is only just starting to recover when the pager is offered as proof of public service bondage. She glances down at the pager, then back to the ADA. "I'm sure a few of the officers working the case would think so. While we do not have a viable suspect yet, I think it is only a matter of time. There's some forensic evidence we're waiting on getting back from the lab."

And then as an afterthought: "I am Penelope."

"Well, Penelope, please do me a favor," Cassidy says with tilt to her head and shifting her body weight just slightly. "If they do come up with any persons of interest, let me know..."

Cassidy turns back to the reception desk to grab a post-it. Using her left hand she jots down a phone number, clicks the pen closed and slaps it on the desk, turns and holds the post-it between two fingers toward Penelope.

"I think I can do that," Haven reaches up and snags the post-it note, holding it between her own fingers. "Hopefully, between the PD and the DA's office, once we get our person we can put them somewhere they'll never hurt anyone ever again. Especially not like they did to those people."

Smoothing her hair with her free hand, she looks up from the post-it to the ADA. "Is there anything else I can do for you, Cassidy? I mean, if you wanted to just nap or whatever, I could babysit your pager. As a recovering creature of the night and graveyard shift junkie, I'm used to being awake all night."

"I'm napping right now." Cassidy says as she lifts that giant tanker of coffee to her lips for another long drink.

The DA pulls the shades off her face, now, to reveal deep blue eyes bright and alert. The tautness of her brow gives her gaze a hard edge eventhough she is relaxed and easy. Looking intent is her baseline. "I'm not allowed to hand it off, but thank you just the same. Where is your usual beat?"

"I wouldn't tell, promise." Haven grins. An evil grin, even. "But I understand." When the shades come off, the grin turns less evil. "I usually work the industrial areas in the southern part of the city and Huckleberry Mobile Home Park in the southwest. The parts the salty dogs don't want any part of anymore. I'm still new, so everything is still an adventure they tell me. Early and often."

"You are a remarkably verbose sleepwalker," she notes. "I've got to learn your secret."

"Medium roast with a shot of espresso and no sugar." Cassidy imparts as a secret.

"Those are dodgy areas, aren't they?" Her shoulders rise into a shrug, "The whole town is, I suppose. I have had the perpetual creeps since I moved here. I'm back to almost a pack a day."

"As dodgy as Gray Harbor gets," Haven confirms, though there's something in how she says it, a slight hesitation and then she adds, "There's definitely plenty out there to support a pack-a-day creep habit." Her lips twist as if she wants to say more about that, but she rolls her shoulders instead. "The bumps in the night here tend to go full seal-clubbing instead of the usual noseflicks."

"Have you seen anything strange? Mothman? Sasquatch? Wendigo?"

"Yeah well I'm trying to quit." and there is a sudden realization in Cassidy's eyes and a quick turn to her purse followed by furious digging. Then a sudden sense of relief as she finds her box of Kools and reveals two left. She exhales. "I thought I left them at the restaurant."

There's an amused glint in Haven's eyes as Cassidy goes spelunking in her purse. "You're a little strange, y'know?" Then she notes in an obligatory fashion, "There are healthier stress outlets." It's softened with: "Like huffing kittens. For instance. You could fit one in your purse, easy."

"I'd probably strangle it." Cassidy murmurs, a now placed cigarette bouncing up and down as she does. She collects her glasses back onto her face and takes her coffee tumbler. A little bounc brings her purse strap back to the top of her shoulder. "I'll see you later, Penelope. Don't forget to call me about the Kruger case." And away she begins to clack, the heels of her pumps playing a heavy staccato as they cross the epoxy flooring.

Joking or not, there's a furrowing of her eyebrows at the thought of strangled kittens. Haven watches the ADA walk away very carefully indeed, then pulls out a small notepad from inside her jacket pocket. The post-it is stuck to it, then with flair, a pen is produced from the same pocket, it's cap flicked off haphazardly to the side and almost winging the desk officer in the face. The number is transcribed. Cassidy is written next to it. Turning away, she heads back the way she originally came, completely forgetting about the fax machine. Speaking to herself, she shakes her head and mumbles, "Danger, Will Robinson, Danger."