2019-12-15 - Oopsie

Bennie's almost done working a double, once more back to cramming in as many work hours in a week as is physically possible. It's taking its toll though, between that and the excessive partying she's doing in her few off hours. It leaves little time for sleep. But! Through the miracle of makeup, she's managed to banish the worst of her dark circles and by god she's keeping that peppy smile plastered to her face as she delivers a tray of sodas to a table of high school students who have obviously ditched their families on a Sunday.

Business has been slow this afternoon, between the high school students and the whole lotta nobody but an old guy sitting at a corner table, meticulously portioning sugar into his coffee. So Bennie'll probably be glad to see a pair of cops show up, right? Big black guy with 'S. Moretti' on his nametag, along with his Hispanic sidekick, none other than 'J. R. de la Vega'. Both men are in uniform, and chatting about what sounds like baseball as they shoulder their way in and belly up to the counter to place an order.

Bennie's shoulders sort of bunch up as she hears that familiar voice behind her, her hand frozen for a split second with a lemon lime soda half way delivered to the table. It must stretch on noticeably, because one of the kids clears his throat before saying, "Ma'am are you having a stroke?"

It's enough to reanimate Bennie, who plops the plastic cup down forcibly enough that a little volcanic spurt of Sprite ruptures upwards. "I'm FINE. And save the ma'am for your momma." All without that smile disappear, though it becomes a little tight. "Your food'll be up in a jiff." With tray tucked under her arm, she starts heading back to the counter, head lowered slightly so she leads with her forehead.

The pair of cops are having a laugh about some boring ass shit that seems to concern who was traded for whom, and why the current crop sucks so much this year, yadda yadda. Moretti looks over as the waitress returns, and favours her with a big grin as he leeeeans in close and pushes the menu toward her. "Strawberry shake and a double cheeseburger, please. My Mexican friend will have the clam chowder, because he's allergic to fun." Which elicits a grunt from said Mexican, and a flick of his eyes to Bennie, accompanied by a twitch of his lips that doesn't quite qualify as a smile. His radio crackles, and he turns away to speak into it, low-voiced.

Bennie doesn't bother to greet the cops, she just merely keeps her eyes downcast at her pad of paper and starts scribbling down the order made from Moretti. Her jaw seems to tighten, just coincidentally along with the notion imparted that 'he doesn't like fun', but the real clincher is when Ruiz cracks that little tug of an almost smile at her. As he turns back from answering that radio chatter, he's met with a very sharp open palmed SMACK square across the cheek from the blonde EMT/Waitress. "How. Dare. You."

Normally, de la Vega's a little more on the ball. He has to be, to deal with the types of people he deals with, in the situations that warrant an armed officer of the law. But he really never sees that slap coming, and it cracks him across the side of the face, audibly enough to draw more than a few glances from the other patrons present. One of the teenagers swears, and another starts guffawing uncomfortably; one part amused (that cop probably had it coming) and two parts scared shitless of what's going to happen next.

"Ma'am, I'm going to have to ask you to step back," Moretti's telling the blonde, hand to her shoulder as if to stave off any further assault. The captain, meanwhile, touches his nose - which looks recently bruised - finds no blood, and shakes his head to his partner. "It's fine." Eyes on Bennie, he's got that slouch-shouldered, wary old dog look about him right now. "You want to have a word about this? We're going to have to step outside." Doesn't sound like a threat.

Bennie isn't listening to any of it. Not the order for Moretti or the bid for Ruiz to take this outside. In fact, it looks like she might come right over the top of the counter and go for Ruiz some more. Her finger is deployed, stabbing at the air between them. "Your life so miserable you have to go around wrecking other's joy? Did you even like it? Do you even remember it? Well I will. I get to remember it forever. You ruined my goddamn LIFE."

To his credit, the captain looks plenty chagrined by the accusations being thrown at him. Each one cuts a little deeper, and he simply stands there and takes it, jaw tight, while Moretti tries to snag the woman's arm and start hauling her outside. The teenagers, of course, think this is all a great show; one of them gets his cell phone out, before the bigger cop gives him such a look that he grudgingly shoves it away again.

As Moretti catches her bicep, Bennie tries to jerk away, no doubt jostling him in the process of attempting to get free of his grip. "Stay out of this!" She tells the taller cop, not that any sane person would actually expect the man to do so. But one could argue she's not in her right mind at the moment. "How could you!" Bennie's voice cracks.

"Outside," Moretti snarls, giving his boss a look that clearly says, what the fuck is her problem, and why aren't you defending yourself?

De la Vega, meanwhile, just continues to stand there stupidly, all bristly tension and aggression held at bay by virtue of wearing that damned uniform, no doubt. Once he's recovered his wits enough to move, he heads for the door and shoves it open, holding it for the other two.

Bennie continues in her little tissy of a struggle as she's hauled outside by Moretti, but by the time they are out in the parking lot, she's resigned to the fact that she's not getting that paw of a hand off her arm without upping and summoning her glimmer. She nearly hangs by the hitch of it, her blonde hair all disheveled and her breathing coming out in agitated huffs. "You're lucky I don't claw you goddamn eyes out!"

I'm sorry doesn't quite seem to cut it at the moment, so Ruiz doesn't even bother to insult her with an apology. He will, however, wait for her to finish getting the rage out of her system while he watches her with that aggravating cop face of his. Whatever's going on under the surface, he keeps it shoved far enough down that one might almost wonder if he's even being affected by this.

Moretti's still trying to talk her down, reminding her that if she keeps this up, he's going to have to bring her in to cool off for a while, and that assaulting a police officer is against the law.

That rather stoic reaction from Ruiz only incites Bennie further. How dare he barely blink an eye at her pain! So when Moretti explains she needs to cool off, the Blonde launches at Ruiz again, ready to pummel that name tag on his chest with her tiny ineffectual fists if the taller cop doesn't restrain her. "I hope you rot in hell!"

The cop at the receiving end of Bennie's ire may be unreasonably calm about this whole situation, but he most certainly hasn't let down his guard. The instant the blonde launches herself at him, he attempts to catch her wrist and give it a sharp tug. Enough to unbalance her, though she won't go sprawling. Mostly because he's still holding onto her. His buddy's on his radio, explaining the situation to dispatch while the surly looking Hispanic cop lowers his voice to a rough murmur: "You touch me again, and you're cooling off in a cell at the precinct tonight, Miss Oakes. Or you can calm the fuck down, and we can discuss this when I'm off duty. Which is it going to be?"

Because Fate delights in fucking over cops so very often....and former Marine cops most of all, it's now of all times that there's a voice he hasn't heard live in sixteen years comes drifting into the altercation. A slow southern drawl that used to belong to a completely obnoxious fighter jock, all shit-eating grin and good ol' boy attitude, back on the USS Carl Vinson. It's only a little deepened by age and the occasional unfiltered Lucky.

"De La Vega? Zorro? That you, you motherfucker?"

It better be, or else Joe just insulted a cop.

Talk about timing.

Alison strolls down the street nonchalantly to start a shift at the diner, actually a bit early for once! Maybe to take over for when Bennie gets off. Regardless, the little shouting match between Bennie and the cops gets her attention in a hurry, and she goes running towards them in defense of her colleague. "Hey. Bennie! What the fuck?" If she manages to slip past Moretti, she'll put her hand on the woman's back, "Bens, he's not worth it. Chill out."

The redheaded waitress is in the know enough to know that there's been a Situation brewing with Bennie, or rather, several Situations with her and hers, but not exactly who the players are other than names, so probably doesn't recognize either of the cops aside from incidental encounters at the diner.

Bennie feels the staying hand on her back, the words of Alison in her ear. She really should calm down. She really should take a breath and think things through. But she just has an Image in her head she can't shake. One that's been haunting her weeks now. One of Ruiz giving Easton what he needed. And it's not about the sex, not really. It's that Easton found comfort, no matter how momentary. With someone else. And then she puts all her might into slamming her foot down on top of Ruiz's with a chipper little, "Oopsie!"

In all fairness, there's no shouting from de la Vega. Bastard's cool as a cucumber in the face of Bennie's vociferous onslaught, much as that brutish looking man obviously knows how to take - and give - a good hit or four. Aggression bleeds from every pore, and she's probably lucky he's in uniform, and less inclined to haul off and introduce his knuckles to her face.

Moretti's in the process of trying to restrain her, arms behind her back, so he can cuff her when her foot's driven into his partner's with enough force to summon a sharp snarl of pain from the Hispanic cop. This happens roughly simultaneously with Joseph strolling up with that greeting for him, and he's confused as fuck for an instant. Confused, and irritated. He could've been driving a desk today. But no, he's doing a ride along with Moretti, and getting assaulted by jilted blondes, and running into guys he served with back in, "Afghanistan? Cavanaugh?" That's hissed between his teeth, dark eyes squinted at the man as he tries to process this in the face of his fucking foot being stomped on.

Clearly, it's some kind of altercation happening....and while initial surprise had him intervening, well, he can hardly help. "Yeah, that's me." A glance at Bennie, Alison, Moretti, then back to de la Vega. "Been a while. I see you're on the job. 'll catch you soon - stayin' down at Bayside." But Joe doesn't immediately slope off. Curiosity's too much of a spur.

Alison grits her teeth a little bit as Bennie goes ham on the cop's foot. "Bennie." she says, in her most commanding voice. Which is not very commanding. Her voice is soft, and small, like the tiny woman she is. Which she realizes! So out come the big guns, damn the consequnces.

Alison uses her glimmer to send calming, neutral emotions towards Bennie. She cannot, of course, determine what Bennie's angry about, aside from the fact that she's angry and her innate ability to put one and one together. But she can send her general vibes of 'hey, girl, fuckin' relax'. There's no particular message, just the emotions gift wrapped in a nice little bow for Bennie to unwrap inside her head with the intention of deescalating the shitshow before her.

To Moretti, the redhead says, "Hey, I've got her. Leggo." Nothing in terms of glimmer towards him or Ruiz, though.

Bennie's hands are craned behind her back and when she feels the cuffs clipped onto her wrists, it's like reality hits. It doesn't help she feels the familiar fuzz of someone messing around in her head, disconcerting as she can't pin down who is doing it, but it calms her nonetheless. Her shoulders droop, all the fight wilting out of her sails as Moretti palms the back of Bennie's head and directs her into the backseat of the police cruiser. "Sorry, ma'am." Moretti rumbles to Alison.

"Alison, tell Gina not to bother firing me." Bennie plops down on the seat and just closes her eyes against the gathering knot of onlookers. "I quit." Her head tilting back just as Moretti closes the door.

Ruiz directs a look to Alison. And that look is not one that most people in their right mind tend to ignore. "Step aside, please, ma'am," is his brusque directive to the redhead. A long look goes to the ex-pilot, dark eyes snagging blue for a beat. Two. And then with a long-suffering sigh blown out his nose, and a brief confirmation of something spoken crisply into his radio, he pops the passenger side door and climbs into the cruiser. Nothing to see here, folks.

There's only a rueful shake of the head from Joe to Ruiz. Proof that this town has it in for everyone. Then that guileless blue stare goes to Alison, as if surely she's the one to let him know what caused all that. "What was that about?" he asks her, mildly. "You know?"

The redhead's mouth drops slightly in astonishment. "What, no, she won't fire you, she.." She stops mid-sentence, not really sure where to go from there. Turning towards Moretti, then Ruiz, she glares, a look of her own - though she can read well enough that the Hispanic man is not fucking around at this point. And then her expression changes into one more befitting the color of her hair, cheeks flushing red, brows furrowing in anger. "Fuck's sake." She'd really thought that calming Bennie down would have a chance at getting her out of this one. But rolling her stuff on cops is a scary prospect that she's not willing to venture at this point unless weapons are being drawn.

Alison backs up to let Ruiz into his squad car, but then lets loose a snarl, kicking the same door that just closed behind him. Not because she's able to tell that he's in charge, but it was simply the closest object to vent her frustration. "Fucking pigs here, no different than SPD." Following that, she'll turn to storm off into the diner. Joseph's interrogative is met with nothing but a frustrated dismissive wave of the hand.