[Original: Drabble] "Ride Along" [Zeke Jones, G]
Title: Ride Along
Prompt: writerverse challenge #3 table of doom, alpha list #3 ‘scenario: carpool’
Word Count: 850
Rating: G
Original/Fandom: original ( Zeke Jones ‘verse)
Summary: Officers Jones and Howell share a car and some conversation.
Note(s): originally posted to the writerverse wv_library
Ride Along
After a long and spectacular high-speed chase on his way to work one morning (which would be repeatedly shown on just about every news channel) Howell no longer had a car.
There was no real reason to have a car in a city like Philadelphia, which has a mostly-reliable public transit system, but my partner said he needed the ‘freedom and autonomy’ a car provided. Too bad there wasn’t an agency in town that would rent him another one, and he was expected to teach a seminar on inter-jurisdictional cooperation in Montgomery County all that week.
“You can ride with me, sir,” I offered. I was a public-transit girl all the way, but my Great Uncle had left me a battered Ford something-or-other- the chrome for the name had come off long before I inherited the thing- and I’ll admit it came in handy sometimes.
Howell glared at me, but since glaring was his default expression, I wasn’t too worried. “You take the subway to work, rookie.”
I hadn’t, technically, been a rookie for several months now, but I suspected I’d be ‘rookie’ to Howell for my entire career. “I got left a car by my great uncle,” I said. “I just prefer the subway.”
He continued to glare at me, his thoughtful glare. “I have a feeling I’m going to regret this,” said Howell. “But, all right.”
I grinned.
Bright and early on Monday morning, I rolled up to my partner’s house. Howell owned a large brick townhouse in Society Hill, neat and well cared-for, like everything of his. I wasn’t sure exactly how old he was, but werewolves tended to live for several centuries, and I’d always gotten the impression from him that he’d been a kid in the mid-1880s.
Howell was waiting on the steps, an imposing figure in the pre-dawn light- until I saw that he carried a cardboard drink carrier in one hand and a paper bag in the other.
“Here,” he said, pushing the bag at me as he got into the passenger seat.
I opened it and grinned. “Doughnuts! Is the coconut one mine?”
Howell nodded. “I’d have gotten you lemon, but I don’t trust you not to get powdered sugar on your uniform.”
I glanced down at my clean-and-pressed uniform and decided that I didn’t trust me not to make a mess of myself, either. “So, are you gonna show me off during your lecture, sir? As an example of a fine, upstanding officer?”
“No,” he said bluntly, reclaiming the bag and pulling out a plain, old-fashioned doughnut. “I’m going to pretend that I have a partner who can act like a responsible adult.”
“Of course I can,” I said, around a mouthful of toasted coconut. “I’m a very good actress.”
Howell closed his eyes briefly. “Just drive, Hezekia.”
“Yes, sir.”
I hated driving in the city, so I didn’t even try to annoy my partner until we’d gotten out into the suburbs. At a red light, I finally took a sip from the cup he’d set in the driver’s-side cup holder. I blinked, frowned, took another sip, and blinked again.
It was coffee, like I’d expected, good coffee, but underneath, I could detect the hint of copper-tang that meant he’d added blood to it. Even as a vampire, with a sensitive taste for it, putting just the right amount of blood in something as bitter as coffee was a tricky thing. Too much, and you had to add way too much sugar; too little, and it wasn’t enough to keep you going.
“Sir-” I began, but he interrupted, “I need you alert, rookie. Eyes on the road.”
The light turned green, and I hit the gas. There was silence in the car for a long moment, then I asked, slowly, “Sir, why are you always so nice to me?”
Howell barked a surprised laugh, a deep booming sound that suited him perfectly. “I do believe you are the first person to ever ask me that question,” he said. “Usually, the captain tells me to stop making the rookies cry.”
“They’re just wusses,” I said. “You might be mean and scary sometimes, but there’s nobody I’d trust more watching my back.”
He smiled, and said softly, “Thank you, Zeke.”
Howell rarely used my nickname, and I knew he was serious. “It’s the truth, sir.”
“Yes, well… The truth from my side is, that you have promise. You’re young, impulsive and still too reckless, but you learn fast and you’ve got the guts to stand up to me. I haven’t had a partner like that in decades.”
I stopped at another red light. “So, you like me because I’m a pain in the ass?”
He laughed again. “Yeah, I guess I do. But don’t think I’ll ever be easy on you, Jones.”
“Wouldn’t dream of it, sir,” I said. Still at the light, I turned the radio to an upbeat pop station, just to hear Howell’s rant about ‘kids these days and their crazy music’.
On the way home, I’d let him listen to his jazz. Most of the way, at least.
THE END
Current Mood:
lazy
Prompt: writerverse challenge #3 table of doom, alpha list #3 ‘scenario: carpool’
Word Count: 850
Rating: G
Original/Fandom: original ( Zeke Jones ‘verse)
Summary: Officers Jones and Howell share a car and some conversation.
Note(s): originally posted to the writerverse wv_library
Ride Along
After a long and spectacular high-speed chase on his way to work one morning (which would be repeatedly shown on just about every news channel) Howell no longer had a car.
There was no real reason to have a car in a city like Philadelphia, which has a mostly-reliable public transit system, but my partner said he needed the ‘freedom and autonomy’ a car provided. Too bad there wasn’t an agency in town that would rent him another one, and he was expected to teach a seminar on inter-jurisdictional cooperation in Montgomery County all that week.
“You can ride with me, sir,” I offered. I was a public-transit girl all the way, but my Great Uncle had left me a battered Ford something-or-other- the chrome for the name had come off long before I inherited the thing- and I’ll admit it came in handy sometimes.
Howell glared at me, but since glaring was his default expression, I wasn’t too worried. “You take the subway to work, rookie.”
I hadn’t, technically, been a rookie for several months now, but I suspected I’d be ‘rookie’ to Howell for my entire career. “I got left a car by my great uncle,” I said. “I just prefer the subway.”
He continued to glare at me, his thoughtful glare. “I have a feeling I’m going to regret this,” said Howell. “But, all right.”
I grinned.
Bright and early on Monday morning, I rolled up to my partner’s house. Howell owned a large brick townhouse in Society Hill, neat and well cared-for, like everything of his. I wasn’t sure exactly how old he was, but werewolves tended to live for several centuries, and I’d always gotten the impression from him that he’d been a kid in the mid-1880s.
Howell was waiting on the steps, an imposing figure in the pre-dawn light- until I saw that he carried a cardboard drink carrier in one hand and a paper bag in the other.
“Here,” he said, pushing the bag at me as he got into the passenger seat.
I opened it and grinned. “Doughnuts! Is the coconut one mine?”
Howell nodded. “I’d have gotten you lemon, but I don’t trust you not to get powdered sugar on your uniform.”
I glanced down at my clean-and-pressed uniform and decided that I didn’t trust me not to make a mess of myself, either. “So, are you gonna show me off during your lecture, sir? As an example of a fine, upstanding officer?”
“No,” he said bluntly, reclaiming the bag and pulling out a plain, old-fashioned doughnut. “I’m going to pretend that I have a partner who can act like a responsible adult.”
“Of course I can,” I said, around a mouthful of toasted coconut. “I’m a very good actress.”
Howell closed his eyes briefly. “Just drive, Hezekia.”
“Yes, sir.”
I hated driving in the city, so I didn’t even try to annoy my partner until we’d gotten out into the suburbs. At a red light, I finally took a sip from the cup he’d set in the driver’s-side cup holder. I blinked, frowned, took another sip, and blinked again.
It was coffee, like I’d expected, good coffee, but underneath, I could detect the hint of copper-tang that meant he’d added blood to it. Even as a vampire, with a sensitive taste for it, putting just the right amount of blood in something as bitter as coffee was a tricky thing. Too much, and you had to add way too much sugar; too little, and it wasn’t enough to keep you going.
“Sir-” I began, but he interrupted, “I need you alert, rookie. Eyes on the road.”
The light turned green, and I hit the gas. There was silence in the car for a long moment, then I asked, slowly, “Sir, why are you always so nice to me?”
Howell barked a surprised laugh, a deep booming sound that suited him perfectly. “I do believe you are the first person to ever ask me that question,” he said. “Usually, the captain tells me to stop making the rookies cry.”
“They’re just wusses,” I said. “You might be mean and scary sometimes, but there’s nobody I’d trust more watching my back.”
He smiled, and said softly, “Thank you, Zeke.”
Howell rarely used my nickname, and I knew he was serious. “It’s the truth, sir.”
“Yes, well… The truth from my side is, that you have promise. You’re young, impulsive and still too reckless, but you learn fast and you’ve got the guts to stand up to me. I haven’t had a partner like that in decades.”
I stopped at another red light. “So, you like me because I’m a pain in the ass?”
He laughed again. “Yeah, I guess I do. But don’t think I’ll ever be easy on you, Jones.”
“Wouldn’t dream of it, sir,” I said. Still at the light, I turned the radio to an upbeat pop station, just to hear Howell’s rant about ‘kids these days and their crazy music’.
On the way home, I’d let him listen to his jazz. Most of the way, at least.
THE END
Current Mood:
lazy