Busywork
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Central Park South
Deviating from the slightly more.../lonely/ feel of the northern sections of the park, the area here seems no less appealing to the eye, regardless. In the distance through the thick treelines of maple and oak, the skyline of New York can be seen looming. Smaller bodies of water than the Reservoir dot the green here, as do the bronze statues placed seemingly at random. The Shakespeare Garden, Tavern on the Green, Strawberry Fields, and the like of more popular 'hotspots' of the park flank to all sides.
[Exits : [U]pper [W]est [S]ide, [U]pper [E]ast [S]ide, [R]eservoir, [Mid]town, [T]avern on the [G]reen, [S]hakespeare [G]arden, and [C]entral [P]ark [N]orth ]
[Players : Seville ]
Seville waits nervously as the police begin to arrive, north of the Shakespeare Gardens, the goon groaning in the snow, his hands tied behind him as her hand bleeds a little bit, the woman rather nervous as she waits.
The uniforms are desultory in their arrival, but professional enough when they finally crunch their way up the path: jaded New Yorkers by the twang of their accents, slipped and slid through Brooklyn's telltale fit. Likewise the man who ambles with them, hands thrust in leather overcoat pockets, a cigarette propped in the corner of his mouth. "--he goes, 'I didn't know you had to open the hood to fix the battery. You beat that?'"
Seville stands there a bit like a frightened doe, and her eyes just as big and dark it seems. Her own Chicago accent was probably quite audible in her chilled tones as she looks from one to the other, starting to look quite releived as the coats arrive and she starts towards them "H... Hi! Yeah, I got kinda lost, and this guy and another jumped out..." she guestures with her bloody hand, the glove ripped open "I ran of course, and well, I dont know where the othe rone is. I tried to climb the tree..." she seems to be falling apart a bit.
The uniforms glance at each other, faces reddened by the exercise and the chill. Behind them, comfortably separate and willing to remain so, their companion puffs a trail of cigarette smoke to tangle with black hair. "How bad you hurt yourself?" the last of the three asks on a lazy baritone, while one of the cops drops to his heels next to the bound goon. "You do that all by yourself?"
Seville uhms and shakes her head "n... No... Well, I punched the other one." she rubs at her hand "Uh, ow... its scraped a little bit. I think I'll be okay." a deep scrape from a branch, but nothing seroius as she holds it out when asked "Some guy just came out and barreled that guy right over... like a football player."
"And tied him up for you like a little Christmas present?" asks one of the uniforms, pitching a droll glance at his partner -- who is busily engaged with poking at the bound man with a nightstick. A gloved fist unhooks the radio from his shoulder; he turns away to the blare of static and conversation over its line.
"Doesn't look serious," the detective observes, marking himself as a member of the NYPD by the flip of a wallet to bare a gold shield. It fits into his breast pocket, badge facing out; hands thrust back in pockets again, leather straining over the wide fists. "Detective Rossi. --You get a look at the guy?"
Seville looks a bit pale herself, save the end of her nose, a cherry red as she adhusts her glove to help clot the wound, looking to the Detective next and the badge, before shaking her head "Uh, not really. Really muscular... six oclock shadow... dark hair I'm sure... I wasn't really paying attention... big guy. He just came and then went off into the woods again."
The man cants his head at his companion, half his attention spared for their exchange with the distant dispatcher. By the trapped goon, the uniform shakes his head over the ties and slaps handcuffs down to add to their bind. "How tall?" the detective quizzes, adding exasperation over that with: "Huey, you taking notes or--? Great. --What's your name?"
Seville thinks a little bit and looks from one to the other a little bit, and bites her lip, starting to go from 'jitterish' to 'gigglish' as she holds her hand up at over six feet "About like that... white definitely. " she states a little bit, rubbing her arms from the cold "Seville Armstrong. I just moved here. "
"Welcome to the Big Apple," drawls Det. Rossi, tucking into the inside of his overcoat to flip out a notepad and a pen. Strong, even white teeth drag the black leather glove off a hand, the better to write with; over its scrawl, green eyes ghost a grin at the woman. "Big guy. Just knocked him over and -- tied him up? Or did you do that?"
Seville hehs a bit "He did..." she states. It was one of those zip-tie thingies. "I was kind of just hanging out of the tree till I got down... He came out of nowhere and slammed the guy right into the tree, then went off telling me to call the police."
Seville says, "and Thanks... so far its pretty exciting."
"And what'd your two buddies -- you said there were two, right? -- do?" inquires the detective patiently, while the uniforms haul their captive up to the sound of complaints and rough-voiced mockery.
"Getting your ass kicked by a girl? You'll be a hit in lockup, princess."
Seville blinks al ittle bit and nods "Yes... well, the big guy knocked the first over... I had thrown my shoe at the second in self defense.... and the second ran off that way." she guestures, looking toawrds the uniform, bristling a bit, but holding her tongue.
The detective shakes his head, jerking a thumb over his shoulder in answer to some inquisitive glance. "Sorry. I'm talking about these guys and you. What did these guys," he articulates patiently, "do to /you/?"
Seville ohhhs and nods at that, starting to relax and offers an apologetic smile to the oficers, then a glare to the man and back "Grabbed me, pushed me some before I punched the first one, and took off... I tried to climb this here tree, and they started to haul me down, when I scraped my hand. That's all they did. I dun wanna thinka bout what they WANTED to do." she shivers.
"Mugging?" suggests one of the officers, and slaps the back of the perpetrator's head with a gloved hand at the complaint. "Attempted rape--"
Det. Rossi's shoulders hunch, impatience skipping over his notepad at his companions. "Tourist specialty," he snaps. And back to Seville, abrupt, he adds a grimacing, "Wandering around in the Park this hour of the night isn't the best idea, lady. If you're planning on sticking around New York, Ms. Armstrong, you might want to get some tips from the locals."
Seville nods at officers and her eyes narrow at the second suggestion, a bit of anger in her voice now. She looks at Rossi and nods "I totally didnt intend to be OUT this long, but I got mixed up and went the wrong way, and kept going the wrong way." she admits "I wont be going into Central Park without a better map from now on, or even on the streets, that's for sure! ... But thank you for the warning." she adds softly, fidgeting with her scraped hand.
"Where d'you live?" asks Det. Rossi, while the uniforms trundle around him with their collar, amusement (at his hapless expense) tossed in cheerful banter between them. "We can arrange you a ride home. Cutting through the Park's not a great plan. Take a taxi next time. May be a little more expensive, but it's definitely safer. Licensed," he adds with the weary twinge of a man who's accustomed to giving the lecture.
Seville nods at that, as she takes it all to heart "I wasnt' going through the park, but the warning is appreciated and I will do so from now on, I promise. A ride would be grateful though." she admits with a smile at him, watching the cops and her eyes glitter with amusement too at their rough ways, relaxing further at the antics.
The detective tucks his notepad into the recesses of his coat, hand splaying wide as it is gloved again. "Let's get you back to the precinct, then," he suggests, jerking his head down the path, where the uniforms have already sunk into their strides. "Martinez can look at your hand and see if you need a doc, and you can file a formal complaint against the dickhead. Sound good?"
Seville nods at that "Sounds just fine." she agrees, releived to be on their way finally as the man is picked up and she starts along in her high boots, looking towards Martinez in questio, then back again "You guys responded very promptly, I have to say... Nice work."
A black eyebrow arcs, dry over the mocking gleam of eyes. "Protect and serve, ma'am," Det. Rossi drawls, cynical humor a tarnished ribbon through the lazy voice. "We're all about the warm fuzzies. This way. Need a hand?"
Seville giggles a bit about the fuzzies at that, somehow really bonding with the rougher cops it seems as she states "I'm okay... I've had worse, but thanks... " she states quickly, brushing the last of the damp snow off her coat as they stride along "Just Miss Armstrong will be fine though. "
The black head jerks; a long strand tumbles over the wide brow, splicing the green gaze. "After you, then." Det. Rossi sets himself to walk, slouched through the length of stride.
[Log ends]
Rossi takes the statement of a slightly traumatized Seville who has just been rescued from a fate worse than buying the wrong size shoes.
Central Park South
Deviating from the slightly more.../lonely/ feel of the northern sections of the park, the area here seems no less appealing to the eye, regardless. In the distance through the thick treelines of maple and oak, the skyline of New York can be seen looming. Smaller bodies of water than the Reservoir dot the green here, as do the bronze statues placed seemingly at random. The Shakespeare Garden, Tavern on the Green, Strawberry Fields, and the like of more popular 'hotspots' of the park flank to all sides.
[Exits : [U]pper [W]est [S]ide, [U]pper [E]ast [S]ide, [R]eservoir, [Mid]town, [T]avern on the [G]reen, [S]hakespeare [G]arden, and [C]entral [P]ark [N]orth ]
[Players : Seville ]
Seville waits nervously as the police begin to arrive, north of the Shakespeare Gardens, the goon groaning in the snow, his hands tied behind him as her hand bleeds a little bit, the woman rather nervous as she waits.
The uniforms are desultory in their arrival, but professional enough when they finally crunch their way up the path: jaded New Yorkers by the twang of their accents, slipped and slid through Brooklyn's telltale fit. Likewise the man who ambles with them, hands thrust in leather overcoat pockets, a cigarette propped in the corner of his mouth. "--he goes, 'I didn't know you had to open the hood to fix the battery. You beat that?'"
Seville stands there a bit like a frightened doe, and her eyes just as big and dark it seems. Her own Chicago accent was probably quite audible in her chilled tones as she looks from one to the other, starting to look quite releived as the coats arrive and she starts towards them "H... Hi! Yeah, I got kinda lost, and this guy and another jumped out..." she guestures with her bloody hand, the glove ripped open "I ran of course, and well, I dont know where the othe rone is. I tried to climb the tree..." she seems to be falling apart a bit.
The uniforms glance at each other, faces reddened by the exercise and the chill. Behind them, comfortably separate and willing to remain so, their companion puffs a trail of cigarette smoke to tangle with black hair. "How bad you hurt yourself?" the last of the three asks on a lazy baritone, while one of the cops drops to his heels next to the bound goon. "You do that all by yourself?"
Seville uhms and shakes her head "n... No... Well, I punched the other one." she rubs at her hand "Uh, ow... its scraped a little bit. I think I'll be okay." a deep scrape from a branch, but nothing seroius as she holds it out when asked "Some guy just came out and barreled that guy right over... like a football player."
"And tied him up for you like a little Christmas present?" asks one of the uniforms, pitching a droll glance at his partner -- who is busily engaged with poking at the bound man with a nightstick. A gloved fist unhooks the radio from his shoulder; he turns away to the blare of static and conversation over its line.
"Doesn't look serious," the detective observes, marking himself as a member of the NYPD by the flip of a wallet to bare a gold shield. It fits into his breast pocket, badge facing out; hands thrust back in pockets again, leather straining over the wide fists. "Detective Rossi. --You get a look at the guy?"
Seville looks a bit pale herself, save the end of her nose, a cherry red as she adhusts her glove to help clot the wound, looking to the Detective next and the badge, before shaking her head "Uh, not really. Really muscular... six oclock shadow... dark hair I'm sure... I wasn't really paying attention... big guy. He just came and then went off into the woods again."
The man cants his head at his companion, half his attention spared for their exchange with the distant dispatcher. By the trapped goon, the uniform shakes his head over the ties and slaps handcuffs down to add to their bind. "How tall?" the detective quizzes, adding exasperation over that with: "Huey, you taking notes or--? Great. --What's your name?"
Seville thinks a little bit and looks from one to the other a little bit, and bites her lip, starting to go from 'jitterish' to 'gigglish' as she holds her hand up at over six feet "About like that... white definitely. " she states a little bit, rubbing her arms from the cold "Seville Armstrong. I just moved here. "
"Welcome to the Big Apple," drawls Det. Rossi, tucking into the inside of his overcoat to flip out a notepad and a pen. Strong, even white teeth drag the black leather glove off a hand, the better to write with; over its scrawl, green eyes ghost a grin at the woman. "Big guy. Just knocked him over and -- tied him up? Or did you do that?"
Seville hehs a bit "He did..." she states. It was one of those zip-tie thingies. "I was kind of just hanging out of the tree till I got down... He came out of nowhere and slammed the guy right into the tree, then went off telling me to call the police."
Seville says, "and Thanks... so far its pretty exciting."
"And what'd your two buddies -- you said there were two, right? -- do?" inquires the detective patiently, while the uniforms haul their captive up to the sound of complaints and rough-voiced mockery.
"Getting your ass kicked by a girl? You'll be a hit in lockup, princess."
Seville blinks al ittle bit and nods "Yes... well, the big guy knocked the first over... I had thrown my shoe at the second in self defense.... and the second ran off that way." she guestures, looking toawrds the uniform, bristling a bit, but holding her tongue.
The detective shakes his head, jerking a thumb over his shoulder in answer to some inquisitive glance. "Sorry. I'm talking about these guys and you. What did these guys," he articulates patiently, "do to /you/?"
Seville ohhhs and nods at that, starting to relax and offers an apologetic smile to the oficers, then a glare to the man and back "Grabbed me, pushed me some before I punched the first one, and took off... I tried to climb this here tree, and they started to haul me down, when I scraped my hand. That's all they did. I dun wanna thinka bout what they WANTED to do." she shivers.
"Mugging?" suggests one of the officers, and slaps the back of the perpetrator's head with a gloved hand at the complaint. "Attempted rape--"
Det. Rossi's shoulders hunch, impatience skipping over his notepad at his companions. "Tourist specialty," he snaps. And back to Seville, abrupt, he adds a grimacing, "Wandering around in the Park this hour of the night isn't the best idea, lady. If you're planning on sticking around New York, Ms. Armstrong, you might want to get some tips from the locals."
Seville nods at officers and her eyes narrow at the second suggestion, a bit of anger in her voice now. She looks at Rossi and nods "I totally didnt intend to be OUT this long, but I got mixed up and went the wrong way, and kept going the wrong way." she admits "I wont be going into Central Park without a better map from now on, or even on the streets, that's for sure! ... But thank you for the warning." she adds softly, fidgeting with her scraped hand.
"Where d'you live?" asks Det. Rossi, while the uniforms trundle around him with their collar, amusement (at his hapless expense) tossed in cheerful banter between them. "We can arrange you a ride home. Cutting through the Park's not a great plan. Take a taxi next time. May be a little more expensive, but it's definitely safer. Licensed," he adds with the weary twinge of a man who's accustomed to giving the lecture.
Seville nods at that, as she takes it all to heart "I wasnt' going through the park, but the warning is appreciated and I will do so from now on, I promise. A ride would be grateful though." she admits with a smile at him, watching the cops and her eyes glitter with amusement too at their rough ways, relaxing further at the antics.
The detective tucks his notepad into the recesses of his coat, hand splaying wide as it is gloved again. "Let's get you back to the precinct, then," he suggests, jerking his head down the path, where the uniforms have already sunk into their strides. "Martinez can look at your hand and see if you need a doc, and you can file a formal complaint against the dickhead. Sound good?"
Seville nods at that "Sounds just fine." she agrees, releived to be on their way finally as the man is picked up and she starts along in her high boots, looking towards Martinez in questio, then back again "You guys responded very promptly, I have to say... Nice work."
A black eyebrow arcs, dry over the mocking gleam of eyes. "Protect and serve, ma'am," Det. Rossi drawls, cynical humor a tarnished ribbon through the lazy voice. "We're all about the warm fuzzies. This way. Need a hand?"
Seville giggles a bit about the fuzzies at that, somehow really bonding with the rougher cops it seems as she states "I'm okay... I've had worse, but thanks... " she states quickly, brushing the last of the damp snow off her coat as they stride along "Just Miss Armstrong will be fine though. "
The black head jerks; a long strand tumbles over the wide brow, splicing the green gaze. "After you, then." Det. Rossi sets himself to walk, slouched through the length of stride.
[Log ends]
Rossi takes the statement of a slightly traumatized Seville who has just been rescued from a fate worse than buying the wrong size shoes.