capeandcowllogs | (no subject)

WHO:

nyc_detective
WHERE: Police HQ, Maza's office
WHEN: Back dated to Monday morning, 22nd March
SUMMARY: After Bond's little Nazi escapade, he's noticed a distinct lack of his communicator. Maybe Elisa can help
WARNINGS: Probably very little
FORMAT: Whatever

A nights sleep has done Bond the world of good, though such a short time can't quite heal all wounds. Still, after Sunday's frivolities, James has found himself lacking in several of his previous possessions, his favourite car being one, while his communicator being not quite so missed but nevertheless just as important, if not more so. In this city, he's a little lost without a comm, really.

It's logical that the wreckage from Sunday morning would have been cleared by now, considering it's positioning in the middle of an intersection and Bond's almost certain his communicator was still sat somewhere in his car during the crash. Seems to make sense that he'd go ask the police, then.

James does his best to sneak into the station without too much attention, he knows he's not the most well liked among the force, and he's soon tracking down the office he's after, giving a very brief knock before inviting himself in immediately.

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She jots down the info. "Indeed." He might be unwilling, but she's irritated and ready to press him down for every drop of info he's got. "Guess what you get to do now, Mr. Bond. You get to fill out a statement."

This is why he hates police and their goddamn stations. James has always had serious issues with authority, and being told what to do by anyone, especially someone with a badge, makes him obstructive on purpose, "I don't want to. I just want my communicator back. What then?"

"Then I'm afraid I can't release evidence from the scene back into your hands," she replies coolly. "Give me a statement and I'll give you back your communicator. And detailed, James."

She's just getting stared at for a moment until, "Just of the incident involving my car and the truck?"

He's getting that stare returned. "How many incidents do you have that you'd like to share with the class?"

"... Just the incident involving my car and the truck," he repeats, because yeeeeah, he's not going into all that other crap.

She just gives him a baleful glare. "You are a seriously rotten liar."

"You asked how many I'd like to share, not how many I'd had. There was no lying involved in that statement." His whole life is a liiiiiie. Spy woe.

Oh God, he's going to play fast and loose with semantics, and Elisa's not even remotely up for that game. "You knew exactly what I meant."

"Perhaps. But isn't it far more fun when we're being pedantic?" He smirks back lightly, with all the maturity of a five year old. "I'll write your statement, but most your suspects are already dead."

She fights back the very strong urge to smack him upside the head. Instead, she ignores his little jibe. "How?"

That's police brutality, that is. Good job she refrained and all. "Car crashes, stray bullets, the usual accidents that tend to happen around here. All very tragic, I'm sure. I'm certain there's someone around here who'll mourn the loss of a few Nazis." No doubt the police picked up the dead motorbike rider and the driver of the flipped car with a bullet through his head. Bond doesn't regret the deaths he's caused... he wouldn't be a trained killer if he did.

It's all she can do to keep her composure as she mentally reviews the case with his comments. Well, she wasn't going to press charges. Even though she should. "So you returned fire," she said instead.

"I wouldn't do anything of the sort," he says with feigned innocence. "I was out for a Sunday drive. I wasn't exactly expecting a shoot out from psychopathic Nazi henchmen."

"When did they start shooting at you?" she asked, ignoring his feigned innocence. He damn well did shoot back.

"Not long after they realised I wouldn't be stopping. And soon after I refused their invitation. Rude of me, I know, but I had plans that afternoon." Except he didn't, but still...

"What invitation?" she asks sharply. "Tell me exactly what they said."

"It's not so much what they said. Their leader, on the other hand, was fairly insistent. I'm sure you can guess who'd be leading a bunch of Neo-Nazis after the information I gave you recently..."

Of course it's the Major. Elisa's not stupid. "So what did he want with you?"

A bored, one shouldered shrug, "To be little more than an annoyance, I should imagine. Wasn't so keen on me watching him. It's to be expected, I suppose."

"You shouldn't be on your comm and driving anyway," she reprimanded. "So you refused and they chased. What happened next?"

As if he's worried about driving while using his comm. That was the least of his problems that day. "I drove into a lorry. Silly of me. Don't know how I could of missed it, really, big thing like that."

She stared at him blankly. "Jesus, Bond. Are you okay?"

"Perfectly fine. I think. I'll let you know if I die from internal bleeding by the end of the day." He's joking, honestly, which is why he's doing some serious deadpan. James started to notice long ago that he seems to be surviving things he shouldn't. "Sadly, the car isn't. And she and I were so very much in love."

She raises an eyebrow at that. "Well, only if it's not a terrible inconvenience," she replies, equally deadpan. "And really, it's better to have loved and lost than to never have loved at all. So why didn't you stay on the scene?"