(Untitled)

[uksupercop]

As a general rule, being chased down by determined police officers tends to be a deterrent to would-be thieves. Unfortunately, the ones in Sandford are either very stubborn or very thick, which is why Nicholas Angel is in the middle of his third foot chase of the week as he sprints through the door. There's a slightly undignified stumble as the

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[samstewart]

[OOC: Apologies for tagging in rather late -- may I beg a slowtime?]

[badboybutterman]

[OOC: Slowtime welcome; no begging required! :)]

[samstewart]

[OOC: Marvellous. ^_^]

It's not the expletive that really catches Sam's attention, though it does prompt her to look up from the last sip of her cup of tea. But the word "shoplifter" -- well, she's been at the station long enough to know what to make of that, and so her expression quickly shifts from surprise to sympathy.

'Did you lose them, sir?' she asks as she stands up and brushes a wrinkle out of her skirt. 'Was it a proper gang of them?'

The most that Hastings ever usually sees is the odd schoolboy nicking a pear when the greengrocer's back is turned. But she's read the papers enough to know that there are some smash-and-grab gangs bold enough to operate in broad daylight.

[uksupercop]

He shakes his head, still catching his breath.

"Just one. We'll catch up when we leave here."

[ooc: sorry about taking so long with this. I suck.]

[badboybutterman]

Danny eyes the cute girl young woman in uniform, wondering why she'd be so interested in their progress (or lack of progress) catching shoplifters. He doesn't say anything. Just kinda stares curiously at her from behind his sunglasses. Until he remembers that it's not polite to stare, so he takes his glasses off and busies himself with tucking them away in a pocket.

[samstewart]

'One's hard enough,' Sam says, with a nod. 'At least, that's what the constables always say, and as they're the ones who usually do the chasing they certainly should know.'

She gives both of them a bit of a smile as she picks up her cup and saucer. 'Would you like some tea? I was just going to get another cup, and you both look like you could use some.'

[uksupercop]

Nick glances at Danny out of the corner of his eye. He almost looks a bit... smitten.

He quickly puts that thought out of his mind as he turns to greet the young lady.

"That would be nice, Miss...?"

[badboybutterman]

Tea? Ooh. Yes. Tea. With the cute girl young woman. Danny stands right behind Nicholas's shoulder, waiting for her name.

[samstewart]

'Stewart,' Sam says, sketching a cheerful little salute for them with the hand that isn't holding her teacup. 'Sam Stewart. It's Samantha, really, but no one ever calls me that. You can call me Sam -- hearing "Miss Stewart" usually makes me look round and wonder if I'm still at school. Let me just get that tea...won't be a moment!'

She's gone before they can introduce themselves, and back in a very short time with a tray that holds three cups of tea, a small glass bottle of milk and a plate with three individual cubes of sugar.

'Right,' she says, setting the tray down on the table. 'As for the rest of it, I think I'm supposed to add that I'm from Hastings, in England, and it's late May of 1940.'

Her statement's silently confirmed by the ration-book that's not-quite-hidden beneath the plate that holds the sugar.

[uksupercop]

"Nice to meet you, Sam. I'm Nicholas Angel, and this is my partner Danny Butterman."

Ordinarily, he'd let Danny intoduce himself, but... well.

[badboybutterman]

Stewart. Sam Stewart. Maybe Danny just had a thing for people who had names that sounded cool when said like that. Bond. James Bond. Or Angel. Nicholas Angel.

When Sam comes back with the tea and Nicholas introduces them, he's suddenly reminded that, oh hey, he should say something, too.

"H'lo."

...Dammit, say something else!

"Thank you. For the tea. I...like tea. We're...English also. 'Cept...not from 1940."

He's blinking a lot and his cadences are all wrong and his voice is cracking like an underaged drinker and Christ wtf.

[samstewart]

Seeing as how the south coast of England is currently awash in RAF pilots, most of whom believe that girls should fall all over themselves at the first sight of a chap in uniform, in Sam's opinion it's rather a nice change to talk to two chaps in uniform who seem to have no such expectations.

'Pleased to meet both of you, I'm sure,' she says, setting cups in front of them and taking one for herself. 'I haven't really met anyone else from England here so far. A few Americans, though. One's even from my time, or at least within a few months of it. I'm rather hoping not to meet any Germans from my time here, though from what I've been told we're all supposed to be jolly decent to each other in Milliways no matter what things are like out there.' A slight tilt of her head towards the door. 'Which seems the sensible thing to do, really.'

She realises in the nick of time that she's on the point of nattering away at them, so she takes a sip of tea. 'What part of England are you both from?'

[uksupercop]

He's a bit taken aback by Danny's stammering, but it seems Sam is talking enough for all three of them.

"We're from a small village in Gloucester."

[badboybutterman]

While Sam speaks, Danny gets his nerve up to drop a sugarcube into his teacup. He studiously stirs his tea, trying not to clink the spoon against the china too loudly. The effort doesn't really pay off. He puts the spoon down, but he doesn't think he can pick up the cup right now for fear of spilling its contents.

Nicholas answers Sam's question. He glances at him, not meeting his eyes, but just checking to see if he thinks he's acting weird. ...Probably.

Say something. Saaaaay somethinnnnnng.

"So... Um... You're in the army?"

Good going. He quickly takes a sip of tea and burns his tongue, but he does his damnedest not to show it.

[samstewart]

'I think I have a cousin who lives in Gloucester,' Sam replies, her mouth pursing thoughtfully. 'Or possibly an aunt. My father says that the cathedral's quite nice -- one of his friends is a canon there.'

She leaves her sugar cube on the plate, but the more-than-generous dash of milk she adds to her cup partly makes up for it. At Danny's question, she smiles a bit and reaches up to tug on her uniform cap.

'MTC, actually.' She says it as if it explains everything, but quickly elaborates for their benefit. 'Auxiliary Territorial Service, Mechanised Transport Corps. Only I've recently started working as a driver for the Hastings police, for Detective Chief Superintendent Christopher Foyle. He doesn't drive, so I do.'

She lowers her voice, a little conspiratorially. 'The last few times I've come here, the door to this place has been the door to his office. Bit of a shock, I can tell you...opening the door to your boss's office and ending up in a pub.'

[uksupercop]

"I can imagine."

He nods understandingly, sipping his tea.

"Sounds like important work."