A question for Jack... || RP moment
August 30, 2010
"Knock, knock," Connie called out as she walked into Jack McCoy's office. She carried Tommy in his carseat and in the other hand, she had a bag of takeout. Tommy, nearly a month old, was awake, taking in his surroundings as his mother walked them inside the office.
"Thank God," Michael looked over from the desk, where he and Jack were amidst a pile of papers. "I'm starved." He got up and started toward her.
"Gee, Jack," Connie couldn't help smirking, "I leave and you stop letting people take lunch breaks?"
Jack glanced up, glasses sliding down his nose. "I lost track of time. It's not my fault he doesn't say something about it."
Connie shook her head. "You two are helpless."
Michael was at her side then, but instead of going for the food, he took the carseat, setting it on the couch, then lifting Tommy out of it. Tommy waved his hand and babbled a bit, pleased to see his father.
"Hey, Tommy," Michael smiled, holding his son close.
Meanwhile, Connie moved over to Jack's desk, where she put down the food. "It's just Chinese, but I did get the usual for both of you," she said, setting it out.
"Thank you," Jack said, and then looked past her at Michael and Tommy. He seemed to get lost in thought for a moment. Connie followed his gaze, knowing that Jack was probably thinking of his daughter.
"So how are things around here?" Connie asked after a bit.
"What, he doesn't keep you up-to-date?" Jack asked, motioning to Michael.
She laughed. "He does. I meant with you."
"No one's trying to hang me out to dry at the moment," Jack said, reaching for his food. "But it's only Monday. Other than that, it's business as usual."
Michael grabbed a carton of takeout and attempted to hold Tommy while also eating with chopsticks. It worked until Tommy batted at a chopstick and noodles spilled down Michael's shirt.
"...oh, good," he looked down at his shirt, and then at his son, who was giving him a gassy smile.
Connie couldn’t help snickering a bit, and she noticed that Jack’s eyes were filled with amusement as well.
“At least I don’t have court this afternoon,” Michael said.
“As if you don’t have half a dozen spare shirts in your office,” Connie pointed out.
Jack smiled at Tommy, who was now drooling on Michael’s tie. “He’s getting big.”
“He’s already going to be a month old,” Connie nodded, starting in on her own food.
They talked about Tommy awhile longer. The conversation turned to sports, then to a case that Michael was trying and then back to Tommy again. As they finished their food, Connie glanced over at Michael. He nodded at her as he continued to hold Tommy.
Jack caught the exchange and raised his brows, not hiding his curiosity. Before he could ask anything, though, Connie began to talk.
“We’re going to have his christening in a couple of more months or so,” she said.
Neither she nor Michael was overly religious by any means, but it was a cultural practice more than anything, and the part having to do with godparents was important to Connie. Michael shifted Tommy in his arms as he listened, already knowing what Connie was going to say.
“We’ve asked my sister Cori to be his godmother.” She paused and couldn’t help glance back at Michael again, this time with a slightly nervous smile. Connie looked back at Jack a second later. “We wanted to ask you to be Tommy’s godfather.”
“You-what?” Jack hadn’t been expecting that at all. “Isn’t the godfather supposed to be family?” He looked at Michael. “Shouldn’t you ask one of your brothers or something?”
Michael gave him a look. “You’ve met my brothers. Do you really think that’d be a wise idea?”
“Good point,” Jack agreed, “But still…are you sure? I’m not exactly a spring chicken.”
Connie laughed a little. “Age has nothing to do with it, and…you’re like our family, too. Certainly more responsible than most of our family.” She smirked.
Michael spoke up. “We were the first ones to sign your petition to run for D.A. We have a lot of respect for you…” He seemed a bit embarrassed, then murmured, “…though my occasional shouting matches may sometimes make that less-than-obvious…”
“You’ve taught us both a lot,” Connie added, still smiling. “And if you’re really worried about your age…everyone knows you’re obviously going to live forever because the D.A.’s office would be lost without you…”
“All right, all right,” Jack managed to look a bit disgruntled in an Adam Schiff sort of way, even though he was touched by their words. “Enough with the flattery. I’ll do it.” He got up and held out his hands for Tommy. Michael passed the infant to him.
Jack looked at Tommy, speaking to him directly. “I can’t promise I’ll be the best influence, but your parents ought to know better than to expect that.”
Tommy gave another gassy smile, prompting Connie to say, “I think he approves.”
"Knock, knock," Connie called out as she walked into Jack McCoy's office. She carried Tommy in his carseat and in the other hand, she had a bag of takeout. Tommy, nearly a month old, was awake, taking in his surroundings as his mother walked them inside the office.
"Thank God," Michael looked over from the desk, where he and Jack were amidst a pile of papers. "I'm starved." He got up and started toward her.
"Gee, Jack," Connie couldn't help smirking, "I leave and you stop letting people take lunch breaks?"
Jack glanced up, glasses sliding down his nose. "I lost track of time. It's not my fault he doesn't say something about it."
Connie shook her head. "You two are helpless."
Michael was at her side then, but instead of going for the food, he took the carseat, setting it on the couch, then lifting Tommy out of it. Tommy waved his hand and babbled a bit, pleased to see his father.
"Hey, Tommy," Michael smiled, holding his son close.
Meanwhile, Connie moved over to Jack's desk, where she put down the food. "It's just Chinese, but I did get the usual for both of you," she said, setting it out.
"Thank you," Jack said, and then looked past her at Michael and Tommy. He seemed to get lost in thought for a moment. Connie followed his gaze, knowing that Jack was probably thinking of his daughter.
"So how are things around here?" Connie asked after a bit.
"What, he doesn't keep you up-to-date?" Jack asked, motioning to Michael.
She laughed. "He does. I meant with you."
"No one's trying to hang me out to dry at the moment," Jack said, reaching for his food. "But it's only Monday. Other than that, it's business as usual."
Michael grabbed a carton of takeout and attempted to hold Tommy while also eating with chopsticks. It worked until Tommy batted at a chopstick and noodles spilled down Michael's shirt.
"...oh, good," he looked down at his shirt, and then at his son, who was giving him a gassy smile.
Connie couldn’t help snickering a bit, and she noticed that Jack’s eyes were filled with amusement as well.
“At least I don’t have court this afternoon,” Michael said.
“As if you don’t have half a dozen spare shirts in your office,” Connie pointed out.
Jack smiled at Tommy, who was now drooling on Michael’s tie. “He’s getting big.”
“He’s already going to be a month old,” Connie nodded, starting in on her own food.
They talked about Tommy awhile longer. The conversation turned to sports, then to a case that Michael was trying and then back to Tommy again. As they finished their food, Connie glanced over at Michael. He nodded at her as he continued to hold Tommy.
Jack caught the exchange and raised his brows, not hiding his curiosity. Before he could ask anything, though, Connie began to talk.
“We’re going to have his christening in a couple of more months or so,” she said.
Neither she nor Michael was overly religious by any means, but it was a cultural practice more than anything, and the part having to do with godparents was important to Connie. Michael shifted Tommy in his arms as he listened, already knowing what Connie was going to say.
“We’ve asked my sister Cori to be his godmother.” She paused and couldn’t help glance back at Michael again, this time with a slightly nervous smile. Connie looked back at Jack a second later. “We wanted to ask you to be Tommy’s godfather.”
“You-what?” Jack hadn’t been expecting that at all. “Isn’t the godfather supposed to be family?” He looked at Michael. “Shouldn’t you ask one of your brothers or something?”
Michael gave him a look. “You’ve met my brothers. Do you really think that’d be a wise idea?”
“Good point,” Jack agreed, “But still…are you sure? I’m not exactly a spring chicken.”
Connie laughed a little. “Age has nothing to do with it, and…you’re like our family, too. Certainly more responsible than most of our family.” She smirked.
Michael spoke up. “We were the first ones to sign your petition to run for D.A. We have a lot of respect for you…” He seemed a bit embarrassed, then murmured, “…though my occasional shouting matches may sometimes make that less-than-obvious…”
“You’ve taught us both a lot,” Connie added, still smiling. “And if you’re really worried about your age…everyone knows you’re obviously going to live forever because the D.A.’s office would be lost without you…”
“All right, all right,” Jack managed to look a bit disgruntled in an Adam Schiff sort of way, even though he was touched by their words. “Enough with the flattery. I’ll do it.” He got up and held out his hands for Tommy. Michael passed the infant to him.
Jack looked at Tommy, speaking to him directly. “I can’t promise I’ll be the best influence, but your parents ought to know better than to expect that.”
Tommy gave another gassy smile, prompting Connie to say, “I think he approves.”