[TBS] Everyone is entitled to their own opinion.
OOC: I mean no ill will towards Patriots fans. Flack’s just happy his team is in the big game, and insisted that I write something about it. With Maka. Don’t ask me why Maka’s involved, but she is.
Flack ran a hand through his hair as he and Maka sat in the car stationed across the street from the house they were staking out. The woman next to him sighed heavily before rubbing her face lightly.
“I have a feeling this is going to be a bust.”
“Yeah, well, you know Mac-gotta follow every lead,” he sighed, sticking his head out of the window slightly to adjust the angle of the rearview mirror. He straightened in his seat again, before turning back to her. “This is nice though. We haven’t done this since before you got kicked to Hoboken.”
“God, don’t remind me,” she groaned, burying her face in her hands. “I was just starting to forget that I’m going to have to go back to it when this is all over.”
“Yeah, well-at least they bent the rules a little and you come city side for this one.”
“It was my collar. Only fair that I help you track down the sonuvabitch,” she sighed. They were silent for a few more minutes, before Flack turned to her with a slight smirk.
“How did you get kicked down to Hoboken anyway?” he asked, and when she looked back at him, the smirk widened into the grin. “You didn’t-”
“He was askin’ for it, Flack.”
“Maka-still-it’s never wise to attack your commanding officer. It gets you sent to Hoboken.” Maka just shook her head, and he grinned. “So what did you do to him anyway?”
“Kicked him in the balls.”
“Surprised he didn’t send you to Alaska.”
“He knew I’d hate Hoboken more,” she smirked before leaning back in her chair. “But as I said, he earned it. An officer of the law can only make sexually degrading comments before I chew them out verbally, but put your hands on me and I will take you out.”
Flack shook his head, before leaning back in his own chair, glancing in the rearview mirror again and letting silence fall between them. There was a long silence before the radio crackled, and a quick, practiced police code was delivered in a thick Brooklyn accent, followed by a familiar voice.
“‘ey, Flack! You out there?”
Flack and Maka both gave each other a look, before Flack picked up the receiver and hit the call button, rambling off the same police code, before speaking himself. “This is Flack-what can I do for ya, Mazeretti?”
“Me and my partner here were called to this B&E in the heights, and the guy we picked up is apparently a very large Patriots fan.”
“Well, everyone is entitled to their own opinion, Mazaretti?”
“A very loud Patriots fan.”
Flack smirked slightly before bringing the receiver back up to his lips. “How loud are we talkin’ here?”
There was a pause, before static came over the line, and a voice was heard in the distance. “You Giants fans sure are gonna be sorry come Monday, because if you think your puny little Giants are gonna take down that Pats, you’re dreamin’ baby. We beat you once, and we can do it again! Hell yeah! We’ve got Brady, baby-” There was what sounded like a warrior whoop before the connection cut off, and Flack looked over at Maka.
Maka laughed, before shaking her head. “Oh, that’s going to be a fun trip to central booking.”
Flack just grinned at her before talking to the uniform. “So what do you need from me?”
“Well, we happen to have the Giants fight song here in the squad car with us-preparing ourselves for the game, ya see-and we were wondering if it would be cruel and unusual punishment to make him listen to us sing it all the way down to central booking.”
Maka covered her mouth to hide the sound of her laughing, and Flack just grinned before speaking again. “Who ya got there with you?”
“Marlin.”
Flack turned to Maka with a smirk. “Marlin’s not to bad a singer, is he?”
“Nah, he’s not bad at all,” Maka shook her head.
“And Mazaretti?”
“He’s broken a few eardrums in this time, but if this guy’s as loud a fan as he seems, I don’t think that’ll be an issue.”
“Sing on, Sergeant.”
“Thank you, Detective.”
Maka just grinned back at him. “I’m suddenly very glad I’m not in that car.”
“You and me both, Maka,” he laughed. “You and me both.”
742 words
Flack ran a hand through his hair as he and Maka sat in the car stationed across the street from the house they were staking out. The woman next to him sighed heavily before rubbing her face lightly.
“I have a feeling this is going to be a bust.”
“Yeah, well, you know Mac-gotta follow every lead,” he sighed, sticking his head out of the window slightly to adjust the angle of the rearview mirror. He straightened in his seat again, before turning back to her. “This is nice though. We haven’t done this since before you got kicked to Hoboken.”
“God, don’t remind me,” she groaned, burying her face in her hands. “I was just starting to forget that I’m going to have to go back to it when this is all over.”
“Yeah, well-at least they bent the rules a little and you come city side for this one.”
“It was my collar. Only fair that I help you track down the sonuvabitch,” she sighed. They were silent for a few more minutes, before Flack turned to her with a slight smirk.
“How did you get kicked down to Hoboken anyway?” he asked, and when she looked back at him, the smirk widened into the grin. “You didn’t-”
“He was askin’ for it, Flack.”
“Maka-still-it’s never wise to attack your commanding officer. It gets you sent to Hoboken.” Maka just shook her head, and he grinned. “So what did you do to him anyway?”
“Kicked him in the balls.”
“Surprised he didn’t send you to Alaska.”
“He knew I’d hate Hoboken more,” she smirked before leaning back in her chair. “But as I said, he earned it. An officer of the law can only make sexually degrading comments before I chew them out verbally, but put your hands on me and I will take you out.”
Flack shook his head, before leaning back in his own chair, glancing in the rearview mirror again and letting silence fall between them. There was a long silence before the radio crackled, and a quick, practiced police code was delivered in a thick Brooklyn accent, followed by a familiar voice.
“‘ey, Flack! You out there?”
Flack and Maka both gave each other a look, before Flack picked up the receiver and hit the call button, rambling off the same police code, before speaking himself. “This is Flack-what can I do for ya, Mazeretti?”
“Me and my partner here were called to this B&E in the heights, and the guy we picked up is apparently a very large Patriots fan.”
“Well, everyone is entitled to their own opinion, Mazaretti?”
“A very loud Patriots fan.”
Flack smirked slightly before bringing the receiver back up to his lips. “How loud are we talkin’ here?”
There was a pause, before static came over the line, and a voice was heard in the distance. “You Giants fans sure are gonna be sorry come Monday, because if you think your puny little Giants are gonna take down that Pats, you’re dreamin’ baby. We beat you once, and we can do it again! Hell yeah! We’ve got Brady, baby-” There was what sounded like a warrior whoop before the connection cut off, and Flack looked over at Maka.
Maka laughed, before shaking her head. “Oh, that’s going to be a fun trip to central booking.”
Flack just grinned at her before talking to the uniform. “So what do you need from me?”
“Well, we happen to have the Giants fight song here in the squad car with us-preparing ourselves for the game, ya see-and we were wondering if it would be cruel and unusual punishment to make him listen to us sing it all the way down to central booking.”
Maka covered her mouth to hide the sound of her laughing, and Flack just grinned before speaking again. “Who ya got there with you?”
“Marlin.”
Flack turned to Maka with a smirk. “Marlin’s not to bad a singer, is he?”
“Nah, he’s not bad at all,” Maka shook her head.
“And Mazaretti?”
“He’s broken a few eardrums in this time, but if this guy’s as loud a fan as he seems, I don’t think that’ll be an issue.”
“Sing on, Sergeant.”
“Thank you, Detective.”
Maka just grinned back at him. “I’m suddenly very glad I’m not in that car.”
“You and me both, Maka,” he laughed. “You and me both.”
742 words