2022-03-24 - Cookie Delivery

It's mid afternoon, and an unfamiliar redhead is standing at the reception desk that serves both the police and the fire department. Somewhat incongruously, she's got a plate of something, covered over by a nice wax wrap, sitting on the edge of the desk in front of her, and is leaning forward, with animation, to speak to the receptionist. "I-- look, no, I'm sorry, I don't actually know what his last name is. I know his first name is Deacon, and that he's a cop. Surely you don't have more than one cop named Deacon?"

Beat. "I swear, this is all on the up-and-up. I wanted to thank him. Not in a sexy-- look. Please? I can text Ava if I need to, but that's just going to get me into shit because she's stubborn and doesn't like being looked after."

The desk officer looks up. Looking to her watch before looking at the girl. "Look...we get people coming in all the time with treats or things for the officers. Ooooooh they helped me. Oh they are such a nice fireman. No I promise I don't have clippings of all the press articles in a room in my house," she says with a somewhat dry tone. "It is the middle of the week, and it is way too early for this." Yes it is afternoon, but apparently it has been a long day for the girl at the front. Still, an officer passing by happens to hear and says casually, "Cheryl, why don't you go get some coffee. I can cover for a few moments." Officer not-a-grump looks over to Una then. "The only Deacon we have on the force would be Detective Fade. He was off yesterday, but we can ring his desk and see if he's here." Picking up the phone a few digits are dialed. "Detective, yeah this is the front desk. There's a citizen here who would like to talk to...five minutes? Okay, I'll let her know." He hangs up the phone and smiles, looking to Una. "He should be up in just a few if you want to have a seat. Don't mind Cheryl by the way. She's usually quite friendly but someone stole her most favorite mug. It's...been hard on all of us," he says with a lamenting sigh before looking at some of the papers on the desk and deciding those can wait.

Deacon does come up in a little bit and looks about the lobby, making his way over to Una. "I'm Detective Fade. I heard you might have been looking to speak with me?" He's dressed in slacks and a button up shirt. His tie is off but he's just slipping his arm into the sleeve of the sports coat he keeps for when he has to meet with the public. It'll be off before he gets back to his desk.

Una opens her mouth, ready to argue, her cheeks pink with faint embarrassment, but Officer not-a-grump comes to her rescue, and she rewards that with a winning smile. "Thank you," she says, quickly. "I do promise I'm not a crazy stalker. And-- well, mugs are important. It'd make me grumpy, too. Who knew there were thieves amongst our boys in blue!" And not blue, for that matter.

So she sits, carefully placing her wax-wrapped bundle atop her knees, fingertips resting just at the edges: to hold in place, perhaps, or just give them some kind of occupation while she waits. Deacon's approach draws a tipped head glance, and then an abrupt rise to her feet once she determines that, yes, this really is the person she's looking for (probably). "Oh-- Detective Fade. You're... you're Ava's friend, Deacon? Who made sure she got some sleep yesterday?"

The officer just smiles, nodding his head. "Yes," he says with that bit of amusement. "Who knew?" And with that he disappears and soon thereafter a Deacon has appeared. All without the Deacon summoning dance. He nods, answering the question first, "The day before, yes," he explains (because ICly he took the next day off to take Ava out, so he wouldn't have been back on shift until the day after the day she woke up). "I don't usually get visitors though when people go to sleep. Is Ava's sleep a matter of the public interest or some sort of news story?" He asks the question seriously but there's a playful little smirk there, to the observant, to show that he's joking. Though if one is nervous they may miss the humor as he's pretty good at disguising it, especially when he gets to mess with new strangers. "And you are? Since you seem to know me now it doesn't seem fair."

"The day before-- right. Sorry; losing track of a time a bit, this week. Unsettled sleep."

Una bites back a smile, and looks just a little embarrassed, pink suffusing her cheeks. "To those who care about her, it's probably very important," she counters, looking up to meet Deacon's gaze. "I'm Una. Una Irving. I live a few doors down from her on Oak, and-- well, we're friends, but I'm also part of the whole reason she was up at ridiculous o'clock that morning in the first place." The words come out in a torrent, and this, too, seems to be not quite what she'd intended; she makes a face.

"The point is: I wanted to thank you, because she wasn't going to listen to me. So I made you cookies. Which made a lot of sense in my head, at the time, but now seems kind of stupid. But."

Awkwardly, she thrusts the wax-wrapped plate in his direction. (It does indeed contain cookies: chocolate chip, and also some snickerdoodles for good measure.)

See, the problem with Deacon is that he is a smart ass. And Una's mannerism only feed that. He does listen though. And as she explains the importance of Ava to her, he nods his head. "She mentioned that she had a few patients she had to check in on. I see then that you were one of them." He smiles back then, a more comforting attempt, as he waves a hand warmly. "Well, she's a fairly special lady so it's our job to protect her, even from herself hmmm? Of course, there is a certain irony in the fact that I basically had to quote every TV doctor I've ever heard and use it against her to point out how ridiculous she was being. Then I just flat out guilted her that if she failed one of her own patients cause she worked herself to exhaustion and made a mistake she would never forgive herself. I can be convincing," he says, holding his hand up as he blows on his nails before wiping them on his cuff.

"You didn't have to," he says, before he takes the plate and lifts up the edge. "Wait, where is my food tester? FOOD TESTER!" He calls out yet only gets a few odd looks. "Oh wait, I am my food tester." With that, he grins excitedly as he takes out one of the chocolate chip cookies. Like, it's not a contest. Not that the snickerdoodles won't be eaten, but there's no hesitation on which cookie he goes for before trying a bite. "Thank you...you didn't have to but..." but he's eating it is the 'but' in that sentence.

"Whatcha got there, Detective," asks a passing by patrol man. "Nothing! Get your ass back to work," he says, with extra defensiveness as he tries to hide his cookie horde.

"Yeah, I guess I was," Una agrees, rueful, but not that rueful. "I mean-- she's ridiculous, isn't she? Care, care, care, but never actually manages to care for herself. That's something I'd like to help with, once her clinic is up and running. And, I mean, in general. But. People need to look after her, in turn, so she doesn't burn herself out." And that probably means more cookies. And general caring.

There's genuine pleasure in the redhead's expression as Deacon keeps his cookie hoard from that passing patrol man. And look: the cookies are good; Una's no slouch in the baking department. "I didn't have to, but... I like to look after the people I care about. And sometimes that means looking after the people who care about the people I care about."

The complexity of that statement does not go unnoticed. "I promise I'm less weird than I probably seem right now."

"Well," he says with a grin. "Between you and me," he starts, before taking another bite of a cookie which leaves Una in suspense. "I intend to also be around her a bit to get her working on that self care, even if I have to cuff her to the be...nch. To the bench," he says, clearing his throat amusedly as his face sorta wrinkles up and he scratches at his brow. "Figuratively speaking of course. I want to see her well. And it is good to know she has friends who are interested in much the same."

Looking down at his plate of cookies, and the fact that apparently the chocolate chip one was defective as it must have just fallen into dust since it's gone already, he reaches in and takes out a second one. Turning the opening towards Una he offers her one of her own creations as well. "I'm sure if you'll be around the clinic then helping her out, I'll be seeing more of you. If I get my way at least. Which is also going to be Ava's way...as soon as I convince her of it."

Una, so approving. She demurs at the offer of the cookie with a shake of one hand, her attention fixed upon Deacon himself.

Briefly, she looks-- well, a little more perplexed than anything. And then, there it is: the moment she gets (or at least thinks she gets) what Deacon is getting at. Her disquiet does not entirely disappear, but she laughs; a quick, chuckle-esque laugh. "I'm glad she's going to have more people looking out for her," is genuine, even if the head-tilted glance Deacon is more thoughtful.

Then, bluntly: "Does she know you're after something more than friends?" Beat. "I'm sorry, that's rude of me. It's not my business."

And yet.

As Una turns down the cookie, Deacon grins. "It was the right thing to offer, but I'm not sad that it means more for me."

"She does, it seems," offers Deacon as he lifts the cookie that's left in his fingers in toast before he finishes that one too. Two down, and several more to go. Still though, as Una asks if Ava knows about his intentions, there's a cagey sort of smile that comes across his features. He doesn't answer though, just looking over to Una with that completely readable expression that shows he is amused by the question, but it gives nothing away. "That seems like the type of question you should ask your friend, Ava," Deacon finally lets out.

Una opens her mouth to reply, and then, frowning closes it again. There's something... not suspicious, as such, in her expression, but certainly something that is not wholly happy. "I will," she says, lifting her chin in a way that is almost-but-not-quite defiant.

"I should let you get back to your work. You can return the plate to Ava when you're done."

This little visit is not, then, intended to be kept wholly secret.

He looks over at that defiant expression. His smile is one that appreciates her looking after her friend, but it could also just as easily come across as total arrogance. That's the nature of a Deacon - his expressions are sometimes hard to read, especially when he is being so tight lipped.

"I will. I appreciate it. In fact, after all your hard work, I will even wash it." There's a little pause as he adds, "You could ask her...or you could wait to be surprised. See if her narrative changes, you know? It may be more fun that way! But, she is your friend. I trust she will answer you. But she is lucky to have friends so concerned about her."

Deacon turns then and heads off back behind the secured doors of the police department section of the public safety building. Someone can be heard starting to ask what's on the plate and Deacon can be heard cutting him off. "Not for you!" Apparently...he takes his sweets very seriously.

"She's very lucky," agrees Una, mostly for her own benefit since Deacon's already on his way off; the disquiet in her voice, is nonetheless audible.

She exhales, sharply, and then turns to go: back out into the chilly March air.

Cookie delivery (and not-so-subtle exploratory mission) complete.