The Ball

"...and I can assure you, Mrs. Duphraine," Jakob was saying from his spot near the foot of the stairs, "Being shot hurts terribly. But it was worth it to assure the safety of you and every other fair lady of our city." He'd been stuck chatting with the woman and her husband, a pair of friends belonging to the chief of police, for an insufferable fifteen minutes now, listening to them prattle about the medal pinned to his suit coat and the excitement of his job. They were idiots. All he'd really needed for charming them was a proper smile and a bit of deferrence to their so-called 'social status' for the act to be flawless, but Jakob was getting bored of it now.

That made Maya's arrival a blessed thing, one that drew a smile to his lips as his eyes flashed darkly and he stepped to one side of the Duphraines. "Excuse me," he bid them politely, tipping his glass of champagne, "But I see someone I must speak with." He took a few short steps towards the base of the stairs, giving a bow in Maya's direction and smoothing his hair as he straightened back up. "Miss Walker," he greeted, "You're a vision to behold this evening."

Things were going smoothly, just like they were supposed to, just like he'd planned. Ian couldn't be happier. He nodded to a few new guests who walked in, keeping his post just outside the ballroom. "Lovely evening isn't it?" He was devilishly close to being happy with himself.

While the other officers had dressed in their ceremonial best, Sam was wearing something black, blue, and backless. Samantha Tyler showing up in uniform would break her mother's heart even more (not that Marcelena was there) and besides, Sam never really had the opportunities to dress up. She'd even gotten her hair pulled up and styled with the best of them.

None of her family would show up, not to a ball full of police officers. Giacomos did their own thing. Half the town owed money to the casinos, many of those in debt were policemen and other officials.

Checking her fur coat, Sam grabbed a flute of champagne from a passing waiter and made her way to the only family she had there. Not that Ian would care or anything but she was bored.

"Nice shindig you put together," she said, coming to stand beside him. Yes, the Walkers (more specifically Maya) had "organized" it, but she knew where credit was due and that credit lay at the feet of Ian.

He turned away from the older couple he'd greeted when he heard the sound of his cousin's voice. It was no surprise she was here, although somewhat surprising she was dressed so elegantly. "What can I say?" he asked her with a sly smile, crossing the ground between them to greet her. With a hand on her bare back, he pulled her close kissing her cheek. "You look ravishing, cousin."

Sam kissed his cheek in return, customary greeting and all that. "You know, the compliment worked until you said 'cousin'. I'm pretty sure some people might find that a little weird," she teased. Sam was in a pretty good mood. She'd mixed her medication a little too strong after dealing with Chinatown earlier and was in a very content, fuzzy state. "But I must say you clean up very well yourself. Very debonair." She took a sip of her drink. "And very nice choice on refreshment."

"Despite your best efforts to look tempting, we are still family," he reminded her with an awkward smile. He wondered about her, trusted she knew well enough to behave, but she did seem more relaxed than usual. It was nasty, what he guessed was a drug habit, but he wouldn't hold it against her, he'd just use it against her if he needed to. "Mrs. Walker insisted on only the very best for the city's finest."

Sam knew how to behave in public. Ian had nothing to worry about. And if Ian had to deal with the worst cramping in the history of woman kind once a month and terrible headaches, he'd have a habit too. "Of course she did," she said dryly. "Anything less and she'd look more manipulative than she already is."

Ian's smile was passive, as if he had no idea what she could be talking about. Of course the comment reminded him of the move the woman had pulled the day before and he scowled inwardly. Instead of agreeing or not agreeing he just changed the subject. "Where's your escort Samantha?"

"Oh, I don't need an escort," she said casually. "Just here to watch the spectacle." She'd broken up with her boyfriend months ago and in this sort of situation, it's not like she could be on the arm of her father like any other single girl of society her age. "Piano player's a good one, I hear."

His scowl was hard to miss, one that spoke of certain social expectations that should be adhered to, the same ones Sam chose to ignore. "He's one of the best," he told her of the piano player. "His name is Finn, and I think he's too young for you," he teased.

"Darn, and I have such a thing for pianists too," she said with mock disappointment. The scowl was most certainly not lost on her and she knew that Ian wouldn't approve. "Really, Ian, who was I supposed to bring as my escort? My partner is one of the ones being honored tonight but I really don't think we're ready to take such a large step together." It was half teasing, and half serious. While Jakob was good to her and fairly good looking, she wasn't inclined to be his date or have him be her date. In fact, she wasn't actually sure if she wanted to hang around with Jakob outside of work anyway.

This was why he didn't like her, she was always trying to go against the grain, and most of the time to just to do it and without good reason. "There's really no one else in your life Samantha?" He sounded exasperated, some what because he was and somewhat because it was role to be.

"What, you think I get my kicks from showing up to social events screaming my unmarried and single status?" She looked a little offended. "My co-workers are offended with having a female in their "inner sanctum" and guys like to run away when they find out that I'm a cop. It's not as easy as just snapping your fingers, Ian." She came here to pat him on the back and genuinely express her compliments on what a good job she thought he did and here he was scolding her like an inept child.

"Samantha," he told her, pleading in his voice, just like when they were children. "You know it's not that." Ian took her hand, his face smeared with the apology of a man who knew far less than he actually did. "I'm not one to judge on marital status, you know that. I just find it hard to believe that there aren't any men in your life. You're too beautiful for that to be true." Stroking her ego had worked to calm her when they were children, hopefully it would work again.

She eyed him, a little hesitant, a little speculative. Ian, meaning his words or not meaning them, was a very good speaker. He knew the right things to say and while it may have worked on her as a pouting thirteen year old girl, Sam was twenty-seven and more importantly, had dealt with a lot of charismatic speakers in the interrogation room. It rubbed a bit of shine off of her previous thoughts of her cousin (how they were related, Sam wasn't entirely sure). "Well that's very nice of you to say, Ian, I'm very flattered." She gave him a small smile and patted his arm. "And please don't think I'm looking for pity. God no. I'll find the right one or my mother will have my head." Her mother's displeasure with her occupation wasn't that big of a secret in the family. She should've been married to a nice businessman (Sam recalled Ian's name actually been tossed out there) with seven children by now.

The small smile wasn't ideal but it would have to do. Leaning in he kissed her cheek again. "I know you will, he's out there somewhere. Go enjoy yourself some extra for me, since I'm stuck working all night."

Sam accepted it and tossed back the rest of her champagne and handed it off to another waiter passing by. "Thank you for your concern, Ian." Even if, perhaps, it wasn't truly genuine, it was still nice to hear and Sam would take encouragement where she could get it. "I'll leave you to your guests." She gave a broad smile to an older couple on their way in and left Ian to his duties.

Cheyenne had absolutely no desire to be at the ball. She wasn't at all in a partying mood, and lately it seemed like she was slipping farther and farther into withdrawing herself. Which wasn't like her, and was worrying, to say the least. But she knew she had to be here tonight, had to be social, so she was making an appearance.

So far, that was all she'd done. She hadn't really spoken to anyone, she was just...eye candy floating around the ball because she couldn't duck out without catching hell for it. She kept half looking for Danny, and at the same time hoping she wasn't going to have to see him. Sipping more of her drink, she exhaled quietly, gazing out the window she'd headed over towards, so she could at least watch lightning streak across the sky.

Danny had moved away from his wife, leaving her chatting with a few other cops' wives, headed towards the bar in the back of the room. While waiting for his drink, he spotted Cheyenne, surprised it took him so long. She was a hard woman to miss. There was something somewhat haunting in the way she looked with her white hair framed by the dark window. Nodding a thanks to the bartender, he made his way towards Cheyenne. "I thought you might be here," he said once he was close enough so that he wouldn't scare her.

Cheyenne looked over her shoulder at him, and then turned her eyes back towards the window, where she could see him reflected anyhow. It was a nice buffer. She could still sort of be looking at him without actually looking at him. "I have to be." she told him. "My family's throwing you a party...can't skip that sort of thing." she said. She didn't know what else to say. A few things bubbled up in the back of her mind, but they weren't in any way appropriate, so she kept them to herself. There was another thunder roll outside, and she waited for more lightning.

It was hard not to watch her reflection in the window, just as it wasn't hard to tell she was frustrated with him. "I had to be too, considering I'm one of the lucky fools that has to stand up there on the stage." Nervously Danny tugged a little at the tie of his dress uniform. He hated this outfit, normally he only had to wear it for funerals.

"Don't fuss with your tie, it'll get crooked." Cheyenne said, sipping her drink again. "Then people will think you're tipsy. Or uncomfortable. You're just going to have to smile and nod for a little while." she advised, leaning one shoulder against the wall, her reflection in the window becoming more prominent. it picked up the highlights of the lights against her skin, picked up the deep red of the dress she was wearing, the rubies that glittered at her neck and hung in teardrops from her earlobes. There was a matching bracelet too, all gifts from various family members.

Danny laughed nervously, but let his hand drop from his tie and he focused on his drink. "I imagine you just have to be here long enough to be noticed right? To remind everyone who you are?" He looked away from her, back to his wife who seemed to be having a good time from what he could see. "I think the only reason I'm here is because of her, she deserves this. You know, better than what I can give her."

Cheyenne's gaze was still on Danny's reflection, even if it went away for a moment, as lightning lit up the sky outside. Then it was back again. His tie was a little crooked now. Just a tiny bit. She resisted the urge to just turn and fix it for him. Especially when he mentioned his wife. That was kind of a wife-thing to do. "You're here to get a medal for heroism, Danny." Cheyenne said, not really commenting on why she was here. People remembered who she was. She was there because she was told she had to be. Probably just because people knew she'd been a little more antisocial than usual of late. She supposed they viewed it as being for her own good...she just didn't share the opinion. "I would say that means you deserve it." Just because she wasn't happy with the guy didn't mean she couldn't understand that.

He couldn't help but watch her. "They're giving me a medal for doing my job, same as I do every other day." Danny didn't like the attention, he just wanted to go back to work. "I don't belong here." Cheyenne though, she seemed born for this. Then again, she probably was considering who her family was. "I didn't think you could top the blue, but the red was a stunning choice." The compliment was checked, because stunning didn't quite cover it.

Ticking her gaze just for a heartbeat over her shoulder at him, she went back to reflection-watching after just a moment. "Other cops don't do their job like that." she said. Because she did actually believe he deserved credit. Sure, she didn't know quite how bad the corruption in the city was, but she knew enough to know that taking down the killer was what she would consider above and beyond. She stilled for a moment when he paid her the compliment, mostly because she wasn't quite sure how to take it. She wasn't sure if he was just trying to get the subject off of himself, or if he meant it, or if he was just saying it because he thought maybe he had to. "Thank you." she said, tone a slight bit quieter than it had been a moment ago. "You've cleaned up nicely yourself." Because he had. it wasn't like she'd made any secret that she thought he was cute. Being annoyed with someone didn't make them less cute.

He wanted to defend the boys in blue but she was right, so few did do their job. The best cop he knew was naive kid, who was also being recognized tonight, despite the fact that Danny doubted Jack was excited about it. "You're welcome," he told her, his tone genuine. When she returned the compliment he instinctively glanced at his own reflection. He supposed he did look a little more put together than usual. Being that this was his funeral outfit he tried not to look at himself in this outfit. He'd buried too many friends in this outfit.

"Cheyenne," he voice slipping a little, dropping in tone and with a hint of pleading. "I'm sorry. I'm terrible at apologies, but I get the feeling I've hurt you somehow. I didn't mean to."

Exhaling, Cheyenne had kind of been hoping he'd just go wander back off again, and leave well enough alone. This wasn't really the place to have a discussion or anything. She glanced back at him again. "I just don't like being lied to." she said, tone quiet, so no one else was going to hear it. He might have to step closer, but she wasn't raising her voice at all.

Danny did step closer, but not too close. They were still in the public eye, and despite the clamor of the room, it wasn't like being in a crowded bar. How was he supposed to explain that he hadn't wanted to lie to but continue to lie to her? Perhaps he could just tell her most of the truth. "I'm sorry, I just didn't think you'd believe me if I told you the truth. I'm worried about you Cheyenne. You said you thought there was someone following you, and I couldn't help but worry. So yea maybe I'm breaking a rule or two, but just because we got one bad guy off the street doesn't meant there aren't others." Danny glanced away from her, over her head, at the storm behind her. "The girl who died, the last one, I knew her and in some ways I blame myself. I can't let it happen again. Not to someone else. Not if I can do something about it."

Cheyenne blinked, that totally out of the blue for her and it had her turning to look at him. "What are you talking about?" she asked. "I meant--when you were talking, you changed your story. Like one minute it was something with your wife, and then like five minutes later it was something else. I don't like being lied to anyways, and it was about something so trivial, I figured if you were going to lie about stupid little things that you've got no reason to lie about, then I couldn't trust you for bigger things--what are--are you following me?" she asked, looking completely thrown for a loop as she stared at him. There was an uncertain, shocked sort of frown on her lips as she tried to catch up with current events, but she was having a rough time with that.

He thought hard, trying to remember the instance, but it was just as she said, something trivial. "No, I'm not following you, I promise." Danny looked at her, nervous again. "I'm not much of a talker. I mess it up all the time. And here I am, an older guy, who's married and who's been married a long time. Hell you probably should just be ignoring me, but you're not. So if you're not, then I want to be here for you. To be someone you can turn to. Despite my marital status and age and overall lack of social skills." He was making this worse. He shouldn't have even opened his damn mouth. Not sure why he was even trying he turned back behind him, considering just walking away before he could make it worse.

Cheyenne was still looking at him like he'd grown a second head. Like she didn't really have any idea at all what he was really going on about. "You're...not making any sense." she said, shaking her head. "I'm going to go." she put her glass down on the windowsill, and started to walk away, confused and now feeling disturbed on top of that.

"Cheyenne wait, please." He reached out, fighting the urge to grab her arm and wound up just lightly touching it. "You're right, I'm not making sense. But I am sorry and if you're willing to forgive me, I swear, I'll never lie to you again."

She stopped, and looked back at him, frown still on her features. "You're really not making sense. And then you were saying about breaking rules and things, but you say you're not following me, and honestly right now I don't know what to believe." she told him, being up front about it. "All I know is things seem really, really off here, and...why should I give you the time of day?" she asked, at least giving him the opportunity to give her a reason.

"Because despite my best intentions, I can't stop thinking about you." It wasn't a lie; she'd been on his mind almost continuously since Maya had shown him the doll. No, her interpretation of the statement was bound to be a lie, but the statement itself was the truth.

Her interpretation was off the mark, it just coincided with how most people meant it when they said that to her. Which made her even less inclined to speak to him. She looked away a moment, shaking her head then layed her gaze back on him. "Go see your wife. Please leave me alone." she said, turning to make a second stab at exiting.

"Please," Danny said with a good line of begging in his voice. "Please." He wasn't sure what else to do, but if she walked away, he'd fail both at protecting her and what Mrs. Walker had asked him to do. "You told me that you thought no one was interested in what you had going on in your life, that you didn't feel like your friends cared. I want to try and be that friend. That's it, just your friend. 'Cause really? I could use one too."

"Please don't cause a scene." Cheyenne said, tone quiet, soft, just for his ears. She wanted to walk away now, but she didn't want to cause something that people would be gossiping about for the next two weeks. And this? Was definitely something people would talk about. "I'm going to go outside, and you're going to go back and see your wife, and get your picture taken, and all of that." she told him. "Goodnight." she said firmly, and she started walking again, really hoping he didn't do anything like try and grab her arm or anything. While they hadn't drawn attention (that she could see) yet, they easily could.

This time he didn't fight it. Nor did he hold back the pain on his face. No, he let her see everything, possibly even the fear she wouldn't understand buried underneath it all. "Goodnight, Cheyenne." His voice was nothing more than a muddle whisper, a defeated noise. He watched her go, not making a move to follow, and then looked back over at Janey. He was going to get them both killed wasn't he?

His boys were set up outside, and he'd managed to sneak in the Drake with ease, through a back door, stowing his coat and fedora in the laundry room. His hair was smoothed back, looking formal, and he'd used the cover-up on his black eye, although if someone looked closely they might still spot it. After a quick glance in a hall mirror, he crossed into the ballroom, looking completely in place and far older than his seventeen years. Couples were starting to take to the floor and Dodge snagged a glass off a tray from a passing waiter. Yes, this was the life. Now all he needed was his Princess.

It was after dinner, and Evelyn was feeling tired -- the ball was busy, her feet hurt, and she hadn't slept well at all the night before. And admist it all the guilt nagged at her that her family currently thought she was in bed with a cold. But none of that was the least bit visible on her face: she was all smiles today, helpful and polite to all; indulging in friendly concentration to the talkative guests and quietly attentive to those who'd rather not be bothered. Overall, it wasn't going too bad. She hadn't woken up in the greatest mood, but the busyness of the day had helped keep her mind off that. As most of the guests had just eaten dinner, there wasn't a need for her to walk around the middle of the floor as well with a tray in hand. So, she took time to casually check on tables and such around the room and, finally finding a moment, found a non-too-busy corner to stand and unwind in a moment before things picked up again.

Dodge spotted Evie finally, grinning broadly to himself and heading her way. He finished the current glass and grabbed another before he reached her. Checking his smile some, he came up near her, out of her line of sight. "Excuse me, miss? Would you be interested in a dance?"

Evelyn didn't start at being addressed, although the invitation for a dance caught her by surprise. She didn't turn around initially, instead flashing an somewhat regretful smile at the dance floor. Like many girls her age, Evelyn enjoyed going out and doing things such as dancing. And dancing at a ball? That would be pretty cool. But dancing at a ball she was working at? No. Starting to turn away from the floor the smile changed to a politely apologetic one, "My apologies, sir, but I'm..." she paused a moment as she faced the guy, brow furrowed, "...working." He looked familiar, very familiar; but it took her a moment to place it. "...Dodge?!" It came out more as a surprised yelp! than an actual word. But... Dodge?

"At your service my dearest," he told her sweeping into a little bit of a bow. "Are you sure I can't steal one dance?" He smiled as he straightened, knowing from her reaction that his plan had worked.

She probably shouldn't have been nearly as surprised as she was; the practical part of her half-expected Dodge to show up at work -- he had been a frequent presence for nearly all four years of working at the grocers, after all. But she would've expected to run into him outside the hotel again, probably bumming a cigarette off one of the kitchen staff; not here, inside the hotel, at a ball ... in a tux.

"I'm working," Evelyn answered pointedly, not completely recovering from the surprise but still adjusting to the mode she should have been in when she first saw him: suspicion. "What are you doing here?" Pick-pocketing or some other such mischief was her first choice. She would've crossed her arms, but she was still aware of the fact that she was in the ballroom, with the guests, and working. Unwilling to make a scene she settled for letting her gaze drop towards his pockets before returning to his face, narrowed in slight suspicion because, well, he was most likely up to something.

Ahh, the look of suspicion, that's what he expected from Evie. In his defense, he held his hands up in mock surrender. "I'm here, enjoying myself. Rightfully I think I should have been invited, but I suppose the invitation got lost in the mail." Of course there was still a little extra loaded into his pockets, but it was well hidden, even to a keen eye. "And I wanted to see you again Amelia."

At her 'name', Evelyn fought the clenching of the jaw and the urge to glare daggers at him, if only because they were in the hotel. But there was still some glaring, it was just... not daggers. Needles, maybe. "I didn't know you were so cozy with the Walkers," she responded a bit skeptically to his 'lost' invitation. Lowering her voice a bit, she added, "and you can see me again. A couple days from now, remember?" The whole 'deal' thing and all. Although if he was going to keep showing up than maybe she should revoke that.

Dodge grinned. "The Walkers haven't shown a valid interest yet, but who knows right?" There was some teasing in his voice. "But I'm royalty in this town." When she lowered her voice, he leaned in close invading her personal space under the pretense of being able to hear her better. "What if I didn't want to wait that long?"

"So you're going to bug me - when working - at a ball littered with police?" She shot a 'We are not amused' glance up at him, but it didn't hold very well. She didn't like him being taller than her, preferring the not-quite-shoulder height of when she first met him... even if then the cheeky brat was quick to point out where his eye level was. But Evelyn had a thing about her personal space, and his being taller than her didn't help it. So she took a step back, careful not to make a scene of it. It didn't achieve the same distance they had previously, but every little bit helped. And she could glare at him better. But it also provided a better look at him, now that he was still somewhat close, and Evelyn's eyes again narrowed. Only this time it wasn't in suspicion, or annoyance, just... she angled her head in a bit. Was she seeing that right? "... what happened to your eye?"

"The police have nothing on me," Dodge pointed out. "I've been nothing but a stand up citizen, my whole life." He wouldn't let her get too far from him though, a hand on her arm as she put the space between them. He flinched a little when she asked about the eye. "I was doing a favor for a friend and it didn't go well."

She caught the flinch, and immediately recognized the answer as elusive. This wasn't new to her -- not so much in dealing with Dodge, but with her brother ...the reminder of which brought forth a slight frown at herself. "A favor?" The tone was supremely skeptical. She didn't ask it that way to intentionally mask her worry, it was just how her worry came out. Evelyn wasn't great at expressing her concern through typical mothering, but it never meant she didn't care. She didn't say anything after that, silently pressing him on the issue. Prying wasn't her typical nature, but even though Dodge usually exasperated her, she never actually disliked the kid. So she didn't let the answer go quite so quickly.

"A favor," he concurred, letting his hand slide down her arm to hold her hand. "A friend of mine is looking for her brother, and the next shot was the tunnels. This," he pointed to the eye with is free hand, "is what happens when the Prince wanders into someone else's kingdom." He had no issues explaining himself, especially since he was doing it for someone else. It just gave him a better image. "

"The tunnels?!" she hissed, pulling her hand out of his and dropping it into a small fist at her side. She was too aware of her surroundings to yell, but her tone conveyed as if she had. "What the hell, Dodge -- were you trying to get yourself killed?" Evelyn really wasn't a fan of guys doing unbelievably stupid things that nearly got them killed for the sake of a pretty face -- not that she really knew if the friend Dodge mentioned had a pretty face or not, or if that really had any bearing on him doing it. But knowing there was a girl involved and the fact that he had ventured in the dangerous-as-hell tunnels was enough to incite that particular aggravation.

Dodge's face was one of disappointment when she pulled her hand out of his. Why was she fighting him so? "I was helping a friend. I didn't go down there alone, and it's better me than her. She wouldn't have made it out. How can you be angry at me?" Her behavior baffled him. Evie had done a good job of reminding him that he didn't mean anything to her and now she's angry at him for taking a major risk? It was like watching a tennis match. "You aren't jealous are you? 'Cause I'd do the same thing for you."

That didn't make her feel better. Neither the idea of anyone putting themselves in danger for her sake, nor the fact that nobility was really hard to rail at without coming off as a complete bitch. And this is why she knew doing so was always a losing battle for her. Because she definitely didn't want whatever girl he had helped to have died in the tunnels either. But when it came down to it? Evelyn didn't know whatever mysterious girl Dodge had helped, but she'd known Dodge for years -- even if she didn't know him extremely well. So the idea of him getting hurt, even if it was for someone else? Still wasn't one she was particularly cool with.

She forced a sigh, ticking her gaze across the room as she tried to pull off a somewhat calmer and even tone. "It's not that--" She started, pausing as she realized she didn't really have a good explanation for how it was. She knew her instincts, and outburst, were probably in the wrong. She even recognized she was imposing frustrations with her brother's habits onto Dodge's shoulders... not that she had any right to be upset with her brother. But she didn't find her self-awareness useful: it still did nothing to change the way she felt on the matter. "I just don't..." What? Evelyn couldn't really think of a 'good' way to finish that either. She forcibly straightened her composure and flicked her gaze back to him, "I just don't think you helping others should involve suicide risks." Then, forcing a slightly bitter smile meant to joke and soften the situation, "Not even for me."

He caught that, that she was a little shaken up and he smiled through it. "It's not suicide, I know how to take care of myself." Dodge leaned in, brushing his fingers at her hairline along her cheek. "And especially for you." Whatever had been so intoxicating about her years ago hadn't gone away with age. He'd been courting her for years, and finally she was starting to look at him twice.

Aaaaaand he was back to his usual flirty self; not that he had really stopped being himself. If anything, his mentioning of his little trek in the tunnels had caused her to break from her usual composed self. Dodge had always been on the touchy feely side -- never to be deterred by "leave me alone", "stop it", "go away", or boyfriends -- but Evelyn couldn't quite roll her eyes at it this time. This particular discomfort most likely dealt with the fact that she was at work and highly aware of the bustling ballroom -- even if said ballroom wasn't too concerned with the help being accosted by the 'gentleman' in the corner. But her fellow staff members were scattered around, even if a quick glance didn't reveal any in her eyesight... yet. "Dodge," she warned, turning her head in a manner that faced him while drawing away from his hand. "I'm at work."

"Then let's leave work, we'll go back to my place," Dodge suggested, the arrogance was still there, but slipped from his voice. "If not now, then later. Tell me where to meet you and I'll be there." Rarely did he go this far, but this was something he'd wanted for too long to pass up. He'd gone through enough trouble to be here. This wasn't just about the dough his boys could rake in tonight. No, a large part of this had been about the girl.

"Dodge!" She took a step back and flashed him a look that clearly inquired 'what the hell are you doing?'. His response shocked her a bit. The words probably shouldn't have seeing as they had been more than hinted at such in his banter plenty, plenty of times. While they had certainly never been subtle, they had at least always remained that: hints. But really, it wasn't the words that she found particularly surprising here. What really jarred her about this time was the tone, because it departed from his usually cheeky manner. She didn't know if it was the result of expert acting, which she could totally believe, or just him being unusually earnest in the offer. But that didn't matter, because either possibility troubled her. Well, the first possibility would be annoying, and the second? That was worrisome.

Evelyn was an expert at brushing off such things when they came from strangers, or hotel guests, or people she didn't know and probably wouldn't have to run into again outside the hotel. But Dodge she had known for years, and his flirtatious nature seemed impervious to any brush off, and he was kinda a keeper of a sensitive secret she wasn't too proud off. And if he was earnest in his offer, although she warily underestimated that fact... well, she didn't care for hurting the kid's feelings (even if she noticed there was nothing 'kid-like' about him at the moment). But she wasn't going to encourage him either, and needed to draw the line somewhere. So she fixed her eyes on his and her tone was even and clear,

"I'll see you in a couple days, for the burger." It wasn't as cold and stand-offish as she normally used (to no avail), but it made clear that the burger was the only thing he should expect.

The disappointment was evident in Dodge's eyes, but beneath it was determination. She might have thwarted him once, but he wasn't going to give up. "I'm not a kid anymore Evie," he informed her with a hushed voice, using the pet name on purpose. In what almost seemed like a nervous twitch he smooth his hands across his hair, wishing silently that he had his fedora to tug low oh his brow to cover his eyes. "You'll see that." With that he turned and started away, intent on finding someone's daughter or niece to flirt with to make Evie jealous.

Being addressed by her name -- or more, the nickname used by her close friends and family (although Dodge had commandeered it shortly after they first met) had an affect. Bringing thoughts of her family to the forefront, it was the sharpest reminder of her decision since starting her shift. And, when used here, it especially highlighted the lie she told daily. Evelyn didn't show it, but it had unsettled her. What had also unsettled her was the nervous sign of his hand running through his hair because nervousness wasn't something that she usually saw with Dodge. Sly, flirtatious, cocky, charming, and care-free were the norm there. And it had struck her as alternately childish or child-like sure -- but that wasn't always a bad thing. But she hadn't needed him to point out he wasn't a kid anymore. She had noticed, even before tonight. A couple weeks before moving she had noticed that he occasionally seemed... well, he got a look that was beyond his years. She hadn't noticed it all the time though, but she had noticed. And it had made her realize that she didn't actually know exactly how old Dodge was. And it was only the fact that she knew she had met him at a young age that prevented her from placing him out of his teens tonight. But whether he was serious or not, admitting as such would start him back up on a track he she had just expressly discouraged.

She wasn't happy to just let him walk away, because he wasn't supposed to be here! But she was even less keen on opening the conversation back up, and she wasn't going to go through the trouble of getting security. At her most observant, she probably wouldn't catch whatever mischief he cooked up. And since she had hardly recognized him up close, she doubted anyone else here will. But with him wandering about Evelyn chalked him up as another thing to worry about and keep an eye on.

Jackson has almost been late. Almost. It would've made his conscience sit easier if he hadn't had to have feel like a massive hypocrite accepting a medal for something he was 100% positive he didn't deserve. But pissing the Chief off like that was probably a step too far even for a known wild-card like him, and really wouldn't achieve anything in the long run. Could have pretended it was for Babylon (which wasn't mentioned) but nah, that wasn't Jackson's way. So instead he was sulking, and standing kinda awkwardly, not drinking but doing a damn fine job of the buffet table, and accepting the odd nod of "well done" from some rich stranger. Upper class idiots, he thought to himself, If they knew a damn thing about this city they'd be choking on their fucking... weird little pastries. What the hell do they call these things anyway? Jackson pondered grouchily, swallowing another vol-au-vent.

He wanted to take off his stupid tie. He hated having it done up so tight. He was glad he hadn't shaved, though. His own tiny act of defiance against getting caught up in a tide of bullshit that everyone else seemed happy enough to lap at. Fuck. He really wanted to leave. He glanced around for Danny and Janey, glad that they were together and wanting a chance to talk to them properly. He'd only really caught a glimpse of Janey before she was hustled off by another cop's wife. He wanted to make sure Danny was making amends. That idiot.

Janey tried to focus on the conversation. She kept a smile on her face, nodded, even tossed her head haughtily every once in a while like she’d seen the other women do. All it did for her, though was give her a crick in her neck.

She scanned the crowd for Danny. He’d wandered off a while ago and, without saying a word, given her the distinct idea he’d wanted to go off alone. Which was okay, she supposed, except that she really wasn’t feeling very social. She spotted him, his back at least, halfway across the room. He seemed to be deeply engaged in a conversation, but his body blocked her view of whom it was with. She wondered how much longer it'd be until the formal ceremony.

Danny felt demoralized. It still surfaced somewhat as anger, as most emotions do with him. After watching Cheyenne walk out he decided fuck it. He pounded the drink in his hand and grabbed another off a passing tray before heading back to his wife as he'd been instructed. He really couldn't fight that urge to hit something.

After a few minutes, Janey realized Danny was weaving his way back towards her. And he looked...angry. There was a powerful intensity to his movements and a tight set to his jaw. Janey excused herself from the conversation and made her way towards him.

When he spotted his wife headed towards him Danny was racked with another wave of guilt. How many times had he let her down too? Had things just fallen short? Just like they had with Cheyenne. He finished the drink in his hand and set it on a table next to him, not even giving a shit about who's table it was. Fuck it all.

"Hi sweetie," Janey said, when she was close enough for Danny to hear her. "You okay?" She tried to catch his gaze, hoping to be able to read something in his eyes.

Danny was torn between wanting to bury his face in her hair and just wait for everything to stop spinning and pushing her as far away as possible. Instead he settled on just looking away when she approached him. "M'fine," he mumbled.

He wouldn't look at her--never a good sign. She reached for Danny's hand and held it tightly, lacing her fingers through his. "Who else do we have to make appearances with?" she asked in a low tone. Although she hated the social functions, she would never do anything to mess them up--especially tonight, his night.

The urge to pull his hand away was there, but he bit it back. "Um, I guess we should find Jack at some point. Did you talk to the lieutenant? I imagine he'd want to meet you." All Danny really wanted was to go home, and get the hell out of this place. His eyes ticked across the room to Mrs. Walker dancing with Jakob. More than anything he wanted to drag Janey home and lock her in the closet to keep her safe.

Janey hesitated. She wanted to go find Jackson, now. Would definitely prefer that over meeting the lieutenant. Jackson she knew, and was comfortable with. But more importantly, he might have been able to give her some insight as to what was on Danny's mind. If she knew, maybe she could try to fix it, or help at least. However, he was right--she should meet the lieutenant, even if she didn't want to. And that was probably the more important of the two choices. "No, I haven't. Introduce me?" Janey replied. She'd avoided as many introductions as possible without Danny by her side. She felt more secure with him there.

Danny nodded, no longer next to her, but somewhere else. He tugged at his tie again, absently thinking that he was probably messing it up, like Cheyenne had said. Why was he even here? So they could make a big deal about his personal vendetta? What a waste of time. He hadn't managed to save anyone, not he'd just stepped in after the fact. "Come on," he told her giving her hand a gentle tug in the right direction. Once he got there he'd find another drink, maybe take some of the edge off.

Evelyn was behind-the-scenes of the ballroom, checking the next round of trays about to go out, mentally going over what exactly were on them and -- most importantly -- how to pronounce said items. Before working here, she hadn't exactly been exposed to fine cuisine. And mispronunciation or coming off as ignorant around the five-star guests was one of the. greatest. faux pas. And with the cops and their families milling about, she had been asked more than usual what exactly was in such-and-such or, in the words of one particularly articulate officer, '...the hell is that?'. So, yeah, she was quizzing herself on it a bit more than usual.

Things were continuing to move along as Ian had hoped, but that didn't mean he'd let himself take a break. No, he'd greeted guests, maintained the perimeter of the ballroom and was now checking on the behind the scenes. Just as he'd hoped the kitchen was bustling, but not behind in any way. He'd drifted towards the trays, just checking and spotted Amelia. Considering his good mood his mind was considering how fun it would be to engage her rather than how much of a chore. "Amelia," he greeted her. "I have to thank you again for working." His smile was still shy but reflective of his pleasant mood.

"Oh!" Straightening up, the smile she flashed him as she pulled her attention away from the trays and towards him seemed perfectly sincere, "It's not a problem." ...Even though was; but it had been her decision and complaining about it here and now was absolutely pointless. There was only the slightest lack of enthusiasm in the actual answer that suggested otherwise, and Evelyn noticed it, but she didn't let it bother her. She was excellent at putting up a front, but being so guarded of her emotions and turmoils didn't come without an effort on her part. And most of her supervisors and co-workers were either easily fooled just quick to accept a facade that they would never catch such a minor slip in her tone. Sure, she had noticed that Sullivan -- Ian -- occasionally seemed to pick up on what most didn't... but that was probably because his crush caused him to focus a bit more than others. On the flipside, the crush also seemed to blind him to various things as well.

Making a little glance at the busyness around them, Evelyn focused back on him as she added in a still polite but more relaxed tone as she honestly added, "Congratulations: everything's going smoothly and I know the guests are enjoying themselves."

The lack of enthusiasm in her voice wasn't lost on Ian, but he didn't give her any indication that he noticed it. Instead he gave her a proud smile. "I believe you're right. I was a little worried, no offense to them, but most of the police aren't exactly the formal ball type, which can always be treacherous." No, things were going just the way he'd planned, and thus he was laying the appropriate groundwork for the rest of his plans.

A private little smile grew on her face at his comment as it brought to mind Jackson Haas: yeah, definitely not the formal ball type. But keeping that amusing mental image to herself, she brushed off the distraction and bit back a wry comment about the police and treachery. Instead Evelyn straightened out an imaginary wrinkle from her sleeve, before lightly meeting Ian's eyes with her own. "Well, our boys in blue are certainly on their best behavior." The corners of her mouth perked in a small smile at the observation, and her manner was light-hearted and conversational. And the fact that she had used 'best behavior' as if they normally weren't would've come of as wholly unintentional... if she hadn't gone to straighten out that 'wrinkle' again. Although Haas had seemed sincere -- if very, very inebriated -- she wasn't a fan of the police overall. Her neighborhood had seen more than its share of shady officers.

"Yes, I blame Mrs. Walker for that. She has a commanding presence," Ian started as if not noticing the little intricacies of her movements. In fact he caught most of them, aware of her sudden discomfort. "Let's just hope they stay that way right?" he smiled as if it was a joke.

She had been smiling all day, even more so than normal, so she kept it on long enough to humor him with a "Hope so" before letting it fall. Other than the final drop of the smile, te expression that remained betrayed nothing of her wariness on the subject. And she certainly didn't let any of the day's weariness break through. But, as it usually did when dealing with Ian, Evelyn's expression adopted a subtle guard beneath its pleasantness. Her guard wasn't really against any supposed malintent -- his behavior had largely eased her concerns on that point. No, she was wary of being personally involved with a man who, no matter how nice he was, held her job in the palm of his hand.

Ian's bright smile faded a touch when hers did. "Are you okay Amelia?" he asked with a face full of concern. Gently he touched her arm, just above her elbow.

She tensed, surprised at the question and the whole Touching thing. Which, really, she probably should've been able to handle better after running into Dodge... not that remembering the disappointed look on his face helped her gain her composure. With the table behind her, Evelyn clamped down on her initial instinct to pull away. Making a big reaction out of something small in front the hotel manager and her co-workers seemed counterproductive, after all. ...or maybe she just didn't want him to think she was repulsed. Although she didn't relax her arm under his fingers, she managed a smile. Though she was uncomfortable, the smile wasn't completely forced. Evelyn appreciated the question, even if it was one she rarely answered honestly. "Oh, I'm fine," she directed her gaze from him and down to the trays, tucking a very small strand -- if there was a strand -- behind her ear. The movement helped with discreetly withdrawing her arm from his hand.

She briefly recalled the name and ingredients on the tray before her, the focus reeling her mind back in as her head turned back to Ian with a steadier, confident expression, "And you?" At least one decent effect from her recent deflection habit was that she was quicker to steer the conversation towards others... something she hadn't always been great with in the past.

Well that was interesting. He'd expected her to pull away, as she usually did, under what seemed to be some sort of pretense of modesty or something, but not like this. She'd tensed and shifted to what seemed even more nervous than before. "You seem a little stressed," he told her, ignoring her question about himself. Ian had let his hand drop, awkwardly smoothing the shirt of his tux, as if unsure of what to do with the hand now.

Oh, he had no idea. She was having trouble sleeping and had no pills to help, her roommate had been sketchier than normal, the guilt from her lies and bailing out this morning still nagged at her, and she knew that Dodge the Master Pickpocket was parading around and wooing ladies in the ballroom. So yeah, she was stressed. And now she was worried that his observing her stress would make him think she couldn't handle her job, or any other greater responsibilities she hoped for. So Evelyn shrugged and smiled, and tried to reassure him that All Was Well. "Well, for a function like this a little stress is healthy, right? If I weren't stressed at all then I wouldn't be working." She punctuated it with a grin.

But it was a total lie: not working on something had the opposite effect. Evelyn was a girl who could stress herself out about what she wanted for breakfast if she had too much free time, and she knew it. So she focused on things, whether work or puzzles or models or people, to distract herself from her thoughts. Because she knew being alone with her mind in constant overdrive was a one way ticket to an anxiety disorder.

Ian smiled, although he kept the wary look in place. "I just hope it's not a problem here at work. That no one's giving you a hard time or something." The statement was vague, but he gave her a look that meant he might assume himself to be the cause of stress. He knew full well it wasn't work that had her screwed up tight, no she typically handled it with ease. Despite his other distractions this fueled an aspect of his curiosity, especially as he wondered what might be going on in her life when not at the Drake that could spark such a reaction.

He definitely wasn't the main cause of her stress, but he had his part in it. Sometimes she wished he would find somebody else to fix his attentions on, but another part of her enjoyed it and was flattered; even though she had no plans to return or take advantage of his feelings... she wouldn't find joy in one day finding them gone. Evelyn chalked that up to her pride. And she also blamed her pride, noticing his expression, for being so quick to say "It's -- I have no problems with anyone at work." And she said it as reassuring as she could, short of physically reaching out to him, because having people worry about her never sat well. ... although she wasn't sure if she just found it inconvenient, or if it was concern for his sake.

Trying again to steer the conversation off her, she turned her smile into an amused direction, "And how has Mrs. Walker found the ball?" The newspapers had made no secret of who was footing the bill for this function, and Evelyn knew Maya Walker's opinion was the One That Mattered.

She'd blown him off, but he let it slide with nothing more than a relieved smile on his face. The look of man who only heard the reassurance in her voice and not the one who noticed that she'd avoided making physical contact. Luckily he didn't care if she was interested or not although it wasn't lost on him that her lack of interest might be a problem later on. Perhaps in the future he might have to try harder to convince her otherwise.

"I haven't had a chance to speak with her yet, as she's been busy with her guests, but I saw her a few times and she seems to be enjoying herself." He still didn't care for Maya much but it he couldn't deny his pull towards her. Maybe it was just her power that he found so interesting.

There was a little glow at seeing his relief, although she was able to tuck it away. It was another thing she chalked up to her Pride: the joy in seeing her words’ effect on Ian Sullivan. And if that wasn’t all? Well, that was all she was going to let it be. But she let up another smile, one that kept a pleasant distance but came easier now, as she asked "And are you enjoying it?" Unwilling to fidget, Evelyn rested a hand upon the table behind her; keeping her poise and not leaning, but looking a bit more relaxed now that she had successfully steered the talk off her.

Her relaxing was more what he'd wanted to see. Mixing that with the smile he wondered if he'd judged her wrong moments before, if perhaps he still had a good solid foot in the door when it came to his advances. "I am now," he said giving his voice a bashful tone, dropping his eyes from hers.

She caught that, and the meaning behind it, and it made her tense again. But this time she handled it much better, displaying it only in the brief clenching of her fingers on the table edge behind her back. She carefully tiptoed around the issue though, sparing him her gaze as she nodded towards on of the kitchen staff walking by. "People have been pretty excited about it back here too, especially in the kitchen." She grinned, removing her hand from behind her to motion towards the trays, "I heard the chef's been waiting for an opportunity to really show off."

Even if the yo-yo behavior exhausted her, Evelyn preferred this limbo. It was safe, with him liking her and her not moving anything to a point where it would blow up; where he would not be what he seemed or she would mess things up. The latter was what usually happened. She was adept at finding men, but not at keeping them. And at eight months, her last relationship had been the longest. He ended up breaking it off (though she said it was mutual), but the blame lay mostly on her. It usually did.

He let his face fall a little when she commented about the chef. "Yes, no he's excited, especially with the fish. I was worried for a moment Mrs. Walker might veto that choice." As he did from time to time with Amelia, he wondered what she was thinking. She wasn't an easy woman to figure out, but that was because she seemed to keep so much of it blocked off. So while she was adept at keeping it blocked off, she wasn't adept at keeping it off her face that she was struggling with something.

"Well, good thing she did." She watched him for a moment, and it wasn't just because he was pleasant to look at. It wasn't unusual for her to watch people, or fix her gaze on them. She had always been the observant type. But, though she was usually good with eye contact, she didn't hold it too long with Ian. He might read some signal it... or worse, she might send some signal in it. And Evelyn, even in maintaining her little limbo, already came too close to that line for her liking. She half-turned back to the table, overlooking the trays one final time. "I guess these should go out before the guests realize they're hungry again, huh?" Because the exact moment they did realize it, they would be wondering where the hell the food was as if they weren't perfectly content a second ago. ...And it meant she could end their exchange before the conversation went back on her or again brushed on the attraction issue.

Ian gave her a hopeful look when her gaze lingered, but then let it drop when she looked away. "No, that's probably a good idea Amelia," he told her, nodding in agreement. "I should probably head back into the fray anyway. "Have a good rest of the night." To add more to it, he hesitated, as if he had something else to say, but then turned anyway and walked out.

She gave a "You too" as he walked away before bending over to grab a tray to bring back to the ballroom. Again quizzing herself on the items she was carrying -- although this time it was for the distraction than actual necessity. Remembering she had slipped in front of Ian, Evelyn was even more vigilante in appearing happy and approachable before re-entering the gala.

He couldn't quite help the smile on his face as Jakob moved away from where he'd been dallying with Maya, his good hand flitting to the knot of his tie to loosen it just a touch, crooking it slightly. He reached out from the knot, plucking a fresh glass of champagne from a passing server smoothly as Jakob twisted between patrons of the event, eyes darting around the room curiously. He'd been convinced that he'd seen Samantha here somewhere, some passing glimpse of her while he'd been on the dance floor, but where? Always a man who loved a chase, the few drinks he'd had weren't hurting Jakob's enjoyment one bit as he sipped his new glass neatly and moved up on the back of what he suspected to be Sam.

While Jakob had been showing Mrs. Walker the time of her life on the dance floor, Sam had been meandering around with no real goal in mind, just watching her fellow officers enjoy the festivities. She did not fit in this scene, not really. Yes, Sam could wine and dine with the social elite; Giacomo's were privileged after all, at least her immediate family was. But here, where her family wasn't too welcome, where she was still viewed as an amusement, a temporary fixture that would be thrown away soon. It was a strange feeling that came up when she thought about it, so she tried not to. So instead she took a sip of her third glass of champagne and turned to look around for Jakob, to see if maybe she could grab him temporarily to maybe give him some friendly ribbing. She found him standing a little ways away, looking at her and Sam sent over a smirk and a little, girly wave.

While the wave wasn't returned, the smirk definitely was. Jakob's mouth quirked at one corner as he tilted his glass back in a neat swallow, eyes flashing with some sort of enthusiasm when he caught Sam's gaze. He was in high spirits tonight, no doubt about it. His commendation would carry some weight for a time, potential like-minded individuals like Maya were always a curiosity, and of this whole room of people? Only Jackson (if Haas had even bothered to come) would consider him 'creepy'. The rest of them saw the hero cop, and that illusion made Jakob want to laugh himself sick. he was riding his humor instead, letting it give him a sociable aspect that was hard to maintain in his line of work.

"I remember on the day we met," Jakob mused as he closed the distance between himself and Sam, "You cautioned me about underestimating you, detective. You said... your old partners had assumed you were delicate? Unable to handle our job?" He chuckled lightly, voice lowering as he moved in. "The way you wear that dress, I cannot say I agree. They did not underestimate you so much as they were distracted by you," he praised with a wink, finishing the last of his drink, "Which is my long-winded way of saying you look splendid, Samantha."

Sam's smirk still remained on her face, but at his somewhat "flowery" little spiel, her eyebrows raised in amusement. "While your compliment is appreciated, I think you need to work on making your declarations of approval a little more convincing." While Jakob had a way of words and she generally trusted him, amidst all these people, listening to the upper echelon give each other backhanded compliments, she couldn't help but be a little suspicious. Still, it was nice to hear the compliment, so she didn't voice any more skepticism. "Congratulations, Detective Hollis, on your commendation. Putting the pressure on the rest of us, well, I'm lucky to be working under the best."

He laughed wryly, handing off his empty glass and shaking his head at Sam. "A man who works to convince someone of anything is a man who is lying, on some level," he protested, "I'll let my words stand or fall by your judgment." Jakob's smile grew a little at her praise, and he glanced down quickly at the medal pinned to the breast of his suitcoat. There was no consideration put towards arguing her praise; he was the best. Dirty or not, Jakob had cracked stubborn cases by himself, had tricked hardened men into confessions.

"And thank you, it was far from my work alone that earned this," he went on, willing to downplay that tiny amount, "Which is often the case. And now is no different, as I'm willing to wager I owe you our next shift lunch..."

"Damn straight you owe me. For what I had to go through today?" Sam waved her hand like swatting away a fly. "I don't even want to talk about it." Nor did she want to think about it. It was an absolute mess. She too finished off her drink and set it aside on the table. She was comfortably numb, invisible bubbles running up and down her limbs and to her fingertips and her toes. "Are you enjoying the fawning adoration?"

"Truthfully?" Jakob asked, his brow crooking as he studied Sam intently, wondering if she was just giving him a hard time or not. "Not in the least," he answered, leaning in a bit to keep the words between them, "These people think the theatre serials are accurate to what we do. I had to explain to one woman that being shot actually hurts, and remind her husband that there were six victims before the papers started caring." He sobered his expression a touch, keeping the grin in place but making it conspiritorial. "I enjoy seeing my fellow officers get their dues, certainly. I enjoy a chance to miss the first wave of calls to the precinct tonight," Jakob offered, "And this temporary refuge from the... 'fawning adoration', as you put it? Is very welcome."

Sam smiled instead of smirked, a more genuine expression. "Well, Jakob, you did great work. I don't think nabbing a serial killer would even satisfy my mother." It wasn't a secret or something that could be used as blackmail or leverage. It was just fact. What mother of a perfectly lovely, eligible bachelorette would actually like having her daughter become a career woman and a police officer?

He laughed warmly there, shaking his head at the idea and Sam. "While I hope we don't have another case on such lines, if we do? I'll make sure your mother is duly impressed," he joked. "Not that you strike me as the type who chose her career for someone's approval, mind you. You do strike me as a dancer, but, well... propriety and all. I'd hate to crush your toe and have you taunt me in the station house." Out of work, he was definitely more alive, more exuberant than he'd shown beyond the thrill of cracking a case with Sam.

"You're right, I do dance," she confirmed with a nod. "But I don't enjoy it much. At least in this kind of place. Way more fun to watch everyone." Sam looked back at the crowd, looking at the groups of people intermingling.

"Fair enough," Jakob conceded, moving to stand at Sam's side so he could watch the other patrons on the floor. "Now, by 'this kind of place'," he asked, eyes ticking sideways fleetingly, "Do you mean such a formal event? Or do you mean a room filled with so many suspects?" He chuckled dryly, low in his throat while waving a hand to a server bearing a tray of drinks. "But for a witness or two, the convictions this room alone would net would be staggering," Jakob confided in a low tone.

Sam looked at Jakob out of the corner of her eyes silently for a little while, considering his words. She thought of her family. While she didn't know to the full extent what the Giacomo family did, she knew that her father and brother and grandfather and uncles... maybe even a few aunts and cousins all had committed at least one thing to get them life in prison, or even the chair. She knew that there were connections and yet, here she was. A detective with her father and grandfather's blessing. She had never been asked to hide evidence or to make something 'go away'. Nothing like that. "You'd love that, wouldn't you?" she asked him, turning to face him better. "Take down certain big names while they flaunt their freedom like this?" Sam could certainly name a few.

He didn't answer right away, twisting on one heel to smoothly pluck two glasses from the passing server's tray, then offering one to Sam. "Not necessarily," Jakob finally said, "For one? We work homicides. And not a one of the men and women at the upper echelons of power in this city could be directly tied to a death. Even with evidence, they have an overflowing fount of men willing to earn omerta in their names." He took a long drink, shooting a knowing look to an elder Bartelucci who'd dealt with Jakob in the past. "Secondly... there is a balance to our city, Samantha. There are vicious dogs who prowl the streets, and dogs need leashes. I honestly fear what may happen if we ever saw a day where the structure collapsed, and the dogs saw themselves as masters."

Sam took a sip of her drink instead of responding. She was the last person Jakob needed to be telling about 'balance' in this city. She wasn't honestly sure how she felt about what Jakob was saying. It was her "family" that he was talking about. Her family that were the vicious dogs that needed to be on leashes. "I think some of those dogs already do, Jakob," she finally said, thinking of her grandfather, the Walkers, their crowd. "Everyone else either hasn't figured it out yet or just hope they can get a big enough muzzle to take care of it."

"To continue the metaphor, there is a stark difference between dogs and wolves," Jakob mused in that low voice, head tilting in one direction for Sam to follow him. Sure, their voices were low enough, but he still liked to play up the secrecy, to remove them from onlookers and garner some suspicions. "Much of our city? Dogs. They obey a strict master, they turn on each other when left to their own ends, they feed on scraps. But before there were ever dogs? There were wolves. Wolves form the pack, they establish dominance, they curtail the senseless bloodshed that weakens the pack or allow it when the ranks need thinning." He stopped near a wall, turning to face Sam and shaking his head apologetically. "I know it is horrible and seems like unbridled chaos, and I wish it could be ended," he lied, "But I believe we would be in far more dire straits without the order that exists now. So I? I accept the calls we get, the bodies we can't identify. It is preferable to the collapse."

Sam nodded as she was sure she was expected to, leaning against the wall beside him. "You don't want it to end, Jakob," she said." Not that she knew of his "extra-curricular activities". "You don't want it to end because you love it to much. This game. Even if the game ending means that maybe this city could get cleaned up." Her lips twitched in the ghost of a smirk. "But that's okay. I don't want it to end either."

"No?" he asked, surprised by that admission. But then, that was Sam, it seemed. He thought he'd had a good read of her from their first meeting, but each day since then had offered some new glimpse of an unseen layer, and it fascinated him. "Afraid you'd grow bored? That someone might expect you to be a secretary, perhaps?" His drink shifted hands as Jakob took a sip, bracing his strong arm on the wall and leaning in towards Sam with a flicker of curiosity in his eyes. "And when, Sam, did you have the time to take such a good look at how I think?" Jakob complimented in a low voice.

Sam gave no satisfaction of shifting away or leaning closer to indicate how his proximity was affecting her. She stayed where she was, leaning against the wall and sipping her drink. "I didn't ace the detective exam just because I'm good looking, Jakob," she told him. "A good detective is observant and listens closely to what someone says and you are someone that enjoys the way the mind works." She thought back to their time looking over one of the crime scenes earlier in the week, talking about how the criminal mind worked. It had become clear upon reflection that Jakob enjoyed what he did. "It's not that difficult to figure out."

"And yet you're the first. Congratulations," he praised, a smile tugging at one corner of his mouth, "And clearly you should have taken the exam sooner. If the idea of any other partner didn't twist my stomach, I'd say you should be reassigned so there would be two competent sets of detectives." Which, for once, was true. Jackson Haas was reliable, but reliable wasn't intriguing. Sam, though, seemed to have a mind for the slippery angles. "I'm not complaining, though. It's refreshing, truth be told," Jakob said, stepping away from the wall and downing the whole of his wine in a long swallow.

"I try, really," was her dry response and she too finished her champagne. Maybe that would be her final glass for the night. "By the way, questioning didn't go so well with our Chinatown guy and I'm not getting into it now because it gives me an absolute migraine, but either that stupid victim talks or dies from his injuries or something. Or better yet, throw it over to another department." Sam straightened and tossed him a strained smile. "But we'll talk about it later. I promised my mother I'd mingle before I bailed tonight."

Whatever insight she had on him, it couldn't reach to the sheer ease with which Jakob played his reactions to most people. So the tense smile Sam wore, sure, it drew a look of concern from Jakob and lined his brow. "Our victim's in no condition to talk, but I'm not dying to speak with him anyway... what about you? Is everything alright? I'd say you've already mingled, if you're in a mood to 'bail' as you put it. And I might be willing to provide an alibi, given that I was considering food a bit more substantial than we're being offered here. A burger at Nighthawk's, perhaps. You could say you joined me and call it a night," he offered, digging his coat-check ticket from his pocket and handing it off to a server with a dollar beneath it.

Sam was surprised at his offer. Not so much that he was suggesting food at the diner, but that he was quite willing to leave the party that was being thrown in his honor earlier than some would be happy about. But Jakob wasn't from money, that much she was aware of, so he must've been running circles inside his head looking for an excuse to leave. "A burger actually sounds really nice about now. I just have to go say goodbye to someone and I'll meet you in the lobby?" She'd go rib Ian a little bit.

He'd been having a wonderful night, as it happened. The chance for head games, for bits of insight, was a wonderful one. But he'd already made use of it, and soon enough he'd be left tossing empty platitudes back and forth soon enough. So, resolving to contact Maya soon, Jakob just chuckled Sam's way and took a step back. "Of course, I was offering you a chance to sneak away, but company with dinner? Sounds delightful. My treat. I'll meet you in the lobby," he agreed, turning away and moving back into the crowd with a smile.