(Untitled)

[blowupthefloats]

Believe it or not, Munch is actually glad to be walking into Milliways tonight. Tensions have been running high in SVU's bullpen what with the fallout from Darius Parker's trial and the addition of Chester Lake to the squad, so much so that attempts at gatherings at the 1-6's usual cop bar wound up turning uncomfortable fast

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[nodistresshere]

There is a blonde woman sitting at the stool beside him, an untouched glass of Corellian whiskey at hand and a pair of stuncuffs hanging from her belt. Her uniform is green, gray, and black, and the service blaster at her side a simple matte black along with its holster.

Iella's eyes sweep from side-to-side occasionally, if subtly, and as the man takes the stool beside her, she watches him for a moment out of the corner of her eye.

[blowupthefloats]

Munch catches her watching him out the corner of her eye ('cause he's watching her out of the corner of his eye), and nods in acknowledgement.

"Rough day at the office?" he asks. He's fairly sure he can tell a fellow cop when he sees one.

[nodistresshere]

"Actually, it was perfectly fine until the breakroom turned into a cantina," says Iella, turning her full attention to him now that she has an excuse to. Her voice is a little tight -- this is the currently-calm-but-unhappy face of a woman who likes order and for things to make sense -- but civil.

If suspicious.

No one in here is getting the benefit of the doubt.

[blowupthefloats]

"Yeah, this place has a way of doing that," Munch agrees. "Though tonight I kinda prefer this over my squad's usual watering hole."

[nodistresshere]

"It's pretty different from any I've ever seen," she says, very dryly, with a hint of underlying 'what the hell is this' to her tone.

[blowupthefloats]

"Yeah, it is at that." He nods. "You get used to it after a while, though."

Then, because his mother raised him to be polite, "John Munch, NYPD Special Victims Unit. 2007."

[nodistresshere]

She extends a firm hand. "Officer Iella Wessiri, CorSec." Her eyebrows are lowered into a frown, though not an unfriendly one. She's pretty good at recognizing fellow law enforcement personnel, and he'd clearly given the unit he's with. As for the rest, though... "What's the significance of 'NYPD' and '2007'?"

[blowupthefloats]

"Sorry," he apologizes for not being clearer before. "NYPD is the abbreviation for the New York Police Department. And 2007 is what the year is in my world."

[nodistresshere]

She nods, slow and more uncertain than she's letting on. "So it's like CorSec is short for the Corellian Security Force. You're an--" She was about to suggest officer, but after another look at him (and at -- what she thinks are plainclothes)-- "A detective?"

She's leaving the year comment precisely where it is: alone.

[blowupthefloats]

You'd better believe they're plainclothes; the only way anyone was going to get him into a uniform again would be for a funeral (his or one of his squadmates - it's up in the air).

"Correct. You're good," Munch compliments.

[nodistresshere]

She smiles faintly. "I like to think so. It was easy, though," she says, with a casual gesture at him, "unless I was entirely wrong and that's a uniform."

[blowupthefloats]

"Oh no, definitely not a uniform," Munch assures her, grinning. "I don't wear that unless absolutely necessary."

[nodistresshere]

She raises an eyebrow at him, but with a tangible air of amusement. "Do you have something against uniforms, Detective Munch?"