hey, hellraiser

do you hang out with the saints or the spies?

[detkowalsky]

— BASICS Name:  Tanya Kowalsky Age / D.O.B.:  44 / 17 April, 1979 Gender, Pronouns & Sexuality:  Femme, She/Her & Queer Hometown: Maywood, New Jersey  Affiliation: Non-Corrupt Law Enforcement Job position: Homicide Detective   Education:  Bachelor’s Degree in Criminal Justice from CUNY Relationship status: Single  Children: None Positive traits: Persistent, Audacious, Witty, Clever, Adaptable Negative traits: Cynical, Acerbic, Cantankerous, Insubordinate, Rash

— BIOGRAPHY tw; missing persons, homicide, alcoholism

Story Time.

The first time Tanya Kowalsky knew somebody was lying to her was the day her mom left and never came home. Something in her voice. In the way her eyes were moving. The first time she knew she wanted to put liars in their place was in High School, when Susie Holland, the homecoming queen, turned up dead in the woods and tall grass behind her High School’s Football Field. It was pretty personal - her boyfriend was the prime suspect - driven out of town society despite how distraught he appeared over it all. He was a wreck, but Susie’s secret girlfriend was just as bad for seeing the aftermath roll out from a place of fearful silence.

Tanya knew because she was the secret girlfriend.

She was fifteen that summer. She buried a lot of that pain in the High School burnout life, but when they fingered the librarian to be the one whodunnit during Senior Year and the town went on like they hadn’t ruined two kids lives with suspicion and alienation? That’s when she knew what she wanted to be when she grew up.

She left Maywood the second she could though - too much bad energy.

Big City life took her - loud enough to drown out certain things and big enough to get lost in in the important ways, she rekindled her faith in humanity by finding new family in new community. Old hats playing chess in the parks, the kids on the stoop. She nestled in and spread enough roots during Police Academy to decide it was at least part of hers to defend.

She was working the beat the day the towers fell, an alarm bell wakeup call that set a lot of her priorities on their heads as she processed the grief and collective trauma the whole city shared that day. She’d make precinct detective a couple years later, a promotion that closed one chapter of her life and started another in short order.

She spent the rest of her twenties looking into the small stuff until she earned her place on Homicide. It was here the bulk of her faith in humanity died - the mystique and adventure of solving murders quickly lost with the meat and blood of reality seeping in on all sides. Years wore on and her smooth edges started roughing out before alcohol became a legal recourse and socially acceptable (if only just) medication for the sort of visions that haunted the peripheries of her mind.

There are days where she wants to apply for a division transfer to something less grisly. Criminal Enterprise, Gang Squad, something where she could for a better city and can hold fast a touch of sanity into an avenue of society that has become nearly as vile as the people it claims to want to stop. But she’s too soft to abandon her post. There are too many Susie Hollands and too many assumed endings for her to ever feel good moving away though, and so she keeps it up, trying to hold onto the thin shreds of optimism that nearly two decades of seeing mankind at its worst has left her with.

— WANTED CONNECTIONS / PLOTS

Professional Colleagues One does not spend long sticking their nose into the gritty cracks and crevices frequented by the violent and baleful members of society without cultivating a cadre of comrades in the fight against injustice. Tanya might be prickly, but she knows the value of backup, and even with her general loner mentality she’s not stupid enough to think she can do everything herself. Media A detective with a tendency to shirk command and good optics to get the job done is free real estate to any journalist looking for something to sensationalize. Tanya's not any more reserved around these types, but she's surely just as (if not more) beligerent.

Little Fish Tanya isn’t a dirty cop, but she does know how to prioritize. It’s all about big fish and little fish. She does keep a watchful eye on the little fish though.

Single Female Looking For LoveRomance burns hot and fast with Kowalsky, and she is almost as quick to fall for a girl as she is to push her away out of a desire to protect them from her sometimes self-destructive ways.

Nemesis Everyone’s got a hero but every hero has an enemy, and every Sherlock secretly dreads finding their Moriarty.

[detkowalsky]

''Pegged me for one of the nice ones, huh? Wish I could say I got pegged like that more often."

Is it raunchy? Yeah, unprofessional? Surely. Perhaps even what one might describe as untoward and skeevy? Who knew - the girl looks on the younger side of thirty and Tanya's seen the kinda shit goes on with tik tok and onlygrams and whatever the hell the other one was called these days.

"I'm pushin halfway through my forties and the last time I had to move anything beyond a brisk power walk I felt like my knees were gonna bend the wrong way. Bars where they dance that aren't really my speed anymore, I fear."

Aria is proof though that the widlflowers were at least nice to look at, springing up as they did between the weeds.

"Well, that and it's a school night." The joke's there for a reason - setup for a later quick escape just in case this turns into a conversation she'd rather not get stuck in. She'd stick on cruise control for now though.

[ariaboughton]

If Aria were drinking anything, she would have spat it out at Tanya's joke. Instead, she coughs through a laugh after her inhale. "Good one." She moves over to take her own spot to perch up against something to be more comfortable than just sitting there. "Can't say I disagree." Her cheeks feel a little red at the admission, but it's nothing compared to how she'd felt at the gala not too long ago. And she can blame it on the drinks, both the blush and her mouth working too fast for her brain.

"Missing out." She eventually settles on with a smile. "But I get it. I dance a little, but I don't like feeling like the odd one out -" She shrugs, letting the sentence trail off.

[detkowalsky]

Kowalsky does a small dance, which makes her feel stupid and childish, despite the fact that she’s dressed like a groupie whose fashion sense died in 1993, only to drift through various stages of in and out of style for the next twenty years and change. It’s not the cookie cutter image one might expect of a police detective, outdated or contemporary. She looks more like she belongs in some old hate alt band on the stage at Wheeling.

That’s by design. She doesn’t dress professional when she’s on the clock, let alone when she isn’t.

“Being the odd one out is, generally, what I’m best at.” Maybe it’s a cringeworthy line, but this girl’s chatty and at least friendly, and Tanya hasn’t gotten the side-eye from her yet, at least not in any way that matters.

"You from around here or just checking out the venue?"

She resists the urge to punctuate the question with 'kid'. The kids tend not to like that.

[avamhollis]

detkowalsky​:

Tanya’s got some old Veruca Salt song going through her head as the embers snake their red-hot pip through the cigarette, and she’s convinced tonight’s gonna be a damn bust, but she’s not really ready to give up hope for whatever reason, so instead of kicking her commute to the closest subway terminal into gear, she lingers a while.

Ava’s question draws her attention off a flag hanging over a window opposite the bar and halfway up a brownstone, her squint replaced by wider-eyed intrigue as she takes in what is frankly a killer outfit.

She’s not shy about looking those legs up and down either.

“Sure.” she says, monosyllabic retort punctuated by her clapping the bottom of the pack, bumping one up and out before she offers it to her. The woman’s all sharp lines; jaw, nose, brow. All pretty, but in the way a knife can be pretty - maybe that’s just her inner poet deciding to bait out the inner romantic after a botched night haunting a bar though.

“Love and I’ve got a fraught relationship.” She finally answers. “She never calls, you know? Feels like I’m always chasing after her. She’s always seein’ other people.”

Maybe it sounds too desperate, too sad and pathetic. But it’s a joke and she thinks its funny, demonstrated by the smile of her lips that cradles her own cigarette.

.

     Any other time, she’d make some bold call-out comment about where Tanya’s gaze lingers, but tonight she simply smiles and pretends not to notice. It’s a change of pace -- not one she welcomes naturally but she even likes to keep herself on her toes. As she reaches for the cigarette and lighter, she takes it as an excuse to step closer in the most innocent way she can manage. She’s rusty, she’ll admit, but practice does make perfect. 

     Hanging off her lips, Ava lights the opposite end and takes a shallow drag only to blow it out to one side as she hands the lighter back. “Thank you,” she murmurs, just before Tanya starts her explanation. Ah, so it’s an old story. Hopeless romantic meets the city that never sleeps, and by proxy its people who never sleep in the same bed twice. Ava makes a face, apologetic, as if she finally understands. “Makes two of us,” she says and is surprised she doesn’t immediately barf. 

     “Were you just in there?” she nods at the front door of the club, only a few feet away from them. “I was just going in but-- is it that bad?” 

[detkowalsky]

“It’s not the worst.” She answers quickstep, exhaling the smoke from her own drag. Kowalsky doesn’t look like most people expect a detective to; there’s the cartoon sterotype, all sharp angles and straight lines in a long coat and a fedora - something as laughable and archaic as her tobacco habit. Even through a modern lens most people view her as unconventional; head topped by a pom of red-orange and untameable hair, outfit straight out of the Slater-Kinney Summer collection. Tight jeans, striped tee. Her fashion sense died in 1997 and has come back into vogue fashion a few times since, but it’s comfort and so she sticks with it even when it goes from chic to dated in the public eye, for better or for worse. “Ouch.” She says to the two of us comment, the owch is sympathetic as much as it is personally wounded. She asks about the club behind her and Tanya turns, as if she’s forgotten its there and she gives a cursory shrug. “It’s not the worst, I’m just tired and there’s a lot of the younger crowd in there - not big on the music.” She tries to stay up on stuff like that, but some of it she just can’t get behind - it’s different if there’s somebody to share the moment with. “That said, I’m not one-hundred percent opposed to giving it a second shot.” She says with an honest smile, an inquisitive bounce of her brows under her mop of hair. “If you’d like a drink, or something.”

[monicasfashioncrush]

[avamhollis]

detkowalsky​:

Location: Evening At Hole in the Wall Bar In SoHo Status: Open

She’s getting older. It’s all over but the crying.

The venue’s nice but it’s not exactly her vibe, Tanya long ago aged out of that crowd and the second the music became too new for her to recognize as anything she’d ever give the grace of being called as such she knew her minutes were numbered. That said, it was a night without homework, so to speak, and she was damned if she was about to go sit alone at home this early on a weekend night - that would be admitting defeat.

And so, she begrudgingly stepped out to light up a cigarette, pining for the days when you could enjoy one in air conditioning, but. well, sometimes life wasn’t fair.

She watches a younger couple head in after her, two girls lost in each other’s eyes and she remembers when she had that sort of hope. Her lip curls around the filter as she finds something to lean on, her disaffected half smile fighting for its life against her natural grimace.

.

    If looks could kill, Ava would need to add at least a few dozens to her body count; tonight, however, she felt like playing a part. There had been too much of herself in her interactions lately, and she needs a break. So instead of a show-stopping leather garment, she sports a modest burgundy skirt and a light see-through blouse over a white tank. Character and all, she couldn’t hide her legs even if she wanted to.

    She’s walking aimlessly up and down the streets of Soho, waiting for someone to fall onto her lap. And just as she’s about to give up...

    Head tilted, Ava looks between Tanya and the couple hurrying into the club. “Not a fan of love?” she wonders with her best, sweetest smile, taking a few slow steps towards the other woman. “... Can I have one?” she nods to the cigarettes as she digs into her bag for a lighter.

[detkowalsky]

Tanya's got some old Veruca Salt song going through her head as the embers snake their red-hot pip through the cigarette, and she's convinced tonight's gonna be a damn bust, but she's not really ready to give up hope for whatever reason, so instead of kicking her commute to the closest subway terminal into gear, she lingers a while.

Ava's question draws her attention off a flag hanging over a window opposite the bar and halfway up a brownstone, her squint replaced by wider-eyed intrigue as she takes in what is frankly a killer outfit.

She's not shy about looking those legs up and down either.

"Sure." she says, monosyllabic retort punctuated by her clapping the bottom of the pack, bumping one up and out before she offers it to her. The woman's all sharp lines; jaw, nose, brow. All pretty, but in the way a knife can be pretty - maybe that's just her inner poet deciding to bait out the inner romantic after a botched night haunting a bar though.

"Love and I've got a fraught relationship." She finally answers. "She never calls, you know? Feels like I'm always chasing after her. She's always seein' other people."

Maybe it sounds too desperate, too sad and pathetic. But it's a joke and she thinks its funny, demonstrated by the smile of her lips that cradles her own cigarette.

[ariaboughton]

The half smile she cracks can't be helped, but she takes a draw in nonetheless, breathing out the smoke slowly out of the side of her mouth - habit from being around non smokers. "Definitely pegged you as one of the nice ones." But Aria takes the lighter and pockets it in the purse hanging off of her shoulder without a second thought. She carries back ups of back ups of memory cards and lens covers, but never thought to do the same for something to fuel one of her vices.

Flicking the cigarette, she holds it between two fingers as she gestures towards the bar and to the couple that she'd passed by on the way out. "Not your scene? Or just bored?"

[detkowalsky]

''Pegged me for one of the nice ones, huh? Wish I could say I got pegged like that more often."

Is it raunchy? Yeah, unprofessional? Surely. Perhaps even what one might describe as untoward and skeevy? Who knew - the girl looks on the younger side of thirty and Tanya's seen the kinda shit goes on with tik tok and onlygrams and whatever the hell the other one was called these days.

"I'm pushin halfway through my forties and the last time I had to move anything beyond a brisk power walk I felt like my knees were gonna bend the wrong way. Bars where they dance that aren't really my speed anymore, I fear."

Aria is proof though that the widlflowers were at least nice to look at, springing up as they did between the weeds.

"Well, that and it's a school night." The joke's there for a reason - setup for a later quick escape just in case this turns into a conversation she'd rather not get stuck in. She'd stick on cruise control for now though.

[scoredandstoried]

He takes the cigarette and lighter, gets himself lit up properly and passes it back. Oz hates relying on the kindness of strangers, but sometimes it's necessary.

He grins at her laugh, smoke releasing from behind his teeth. He holds the cigarette between his fingers against his knee. "True. Depends on if they're the type to settle down in the midst of their honeymoon stage and commit to it too quickly. Then they're in for years before they realize they know nothing about the other." He gives a shrug at his somewhat specific thought process.

The question is an obvious step towards a conversation. Maybe Oz might have shoved it off with a 'yep' and waited for her to head on and find someone else, but... "Mm. There's a better spot, few streets down. Thought I'd try something new but." He looks back at the main door distastefully. "You done for the night?" It's an invitation.

[detkowalsky]

"Ah, classic sunk cost fallacy, the last-ditch life vest of a dying relationship." She pulls a face and smoke shoots out her nose as she eyes the cigarette pinched between her fingers, an exhalation that ranks somewhere between depressed and simple resignation to the idea punctuating the invisible thought of just how often that concept comes into play in her line of work.

She looks to him and smiles; he's got what she'd call friendly eyes - expressive. The kind she favors when she's dealing with an investigation. She wonders, is he asking for somebody to go bar-hopping with? Bold if so, something she's gotta respect. Half of her wants to say sure, why the hell not, and half of her wants to say why the heck would I.

She opts for Big Apple outcast solidarity - maybe this guy has friends, maybe he's a loner, but something tells her he's at least fringe like she is in one or two ways. "Eh, which way?" She says, taking another drag before letting the bad habit dangle at her side, opposite him. "I ain't got a bedtime."

[dcyliightt]

I need to talk to you when you get here... I keep getting your voicemail, and I... Listen, just... Please, just pick up.  Arman let out an aggravated huff, pressing send with a little more frustration than need be before shoving his phone back in his pockets and running his hands through his hair. He knew he had no right to be mad (literally none), but he’s just had a few stiff drinks with some of his colleagues from the university, and his mind was swimming, and... 

“Hey, would you happen to have another one of those?” He rasped, needing a way more than he thought he did. 

It had been years since he’s smoked one, but god did this situation call for it... 

[detkowalsky]

"Yeah sure." she says, tossing him the pack, Bic lighter stuffed inside (the Zippo stayed in her pocket) the crinkled up paper package. "Help yourself,"

Tanya is tired, but not as tired as this guy looks. She's been glancing his way for a few moments now, gaze drawn over by his impassioned pleas into his cell. It's almost wince-worthy but she manages not to show it up until he asks her for a smoke.

Kowalsky stuffs her hands in the pockets of her jeans and lets the awkward pause hang their a bit.

"Everything uh… everything okay?" She asks. "Like, no emergency or nothin?"

She blows a single ring of smoke into the night-time city air, a trick she can only ever do on accident, much to her chagrin.

[kiristephens]

It's an impulsive decision that has her deviating from her normal routine, something she rarely does without her more lively counterpart throwing out the suggestion in the first place. She keeps a brisk place as she walks down the street, blending in seamlessly with the crowd as she's learned to do over the years. Kiri stops for nothing and no one, easily sidestepping around people loitering along the sidewalk. But she spots a familiar mane of auburn hair, the type that only a handful of people could pull off as well as Tanya Kowalsky.

She's not sure the last time she saw the detective, certainly not since she had started her latest... extracurricular activities. Maybe Tanya had come to the funeral? But she had been lost in such a haze of grief and loss at the time that she scarcely remembered those handful of months in the immediate aftermath. It's probably foolish to re-open closed doors, with a detective no less, but Kiri doesn't skip a step as she beelines for her old friend.

"Still haven't kicked that habit despite all my warnings," she jokes as she plucks the cigarette out of Tanya's grip to take her own hit of the nicotine. An old joke, a tired one maybe, but isn't that the best way to describe the two of them anyways? She offers the cigarette back to the detective with a cheeky grin, though much duller than what she might have flashed in previous years. "I guess I can better understand the desire to speed towards death now."

[detkowalsky]

"Well, that's fucking grim," Tanya remarks, at first taken back by somebody posting up on her, the close contact unexpected but, once the origin is made out against the city background, welcomed, if only for nostalgia's sake.

Kowalsky had missed the funeral, and not by choice - work was work, and that meant being on call, even at (and moreso usually at) the most inopportune moments. She'd scuttled many a relationship with that facet of her chosen career, not one single romantic relationship ever having bloomed past the cracks in the on-demand nature of detective work in a city this size.

Still, it had eats at her that the last time she and Kiri Stephens chatted, she was a happier person, and a more complete one. It had the kind of tragedy that made her want to look into matters herself, damn jurisdictional protocol and whoever wrote them.

She waves her hand. "Keep it." She says, smug and satisfied as she puts another between her lips and lights that one too.

There's a silence in the space after her two-word command and it seems, to Kowalsky at least, to take forever and a day, so she's the one to break it. "Kiri Stephens, how the hell are you?"

It's caged in familiarity and accusation in equal measure - the radio silence between them had been exceptionally loud.

[scoredandstoried]

If Oz is one thing, it's observant. He doesn't enjoy striking up conversations, because he doesn't love to talk. He'd much rather listen in, or watch someone sit there and stew in their feelings. Decipher what the fuck they're feeling... and maybe just let that fester. If people want to tell Oz something, normally they just do it.

But he doesn't really know this person beside him, and he's sitting in his wheelchair outside, soaking in the fumes of her cigarette that leaves him wanting. He doesn't have any on him, which was a terrible decision. He'd thought a nightcap might do him well, but instead he'd ended up finding far too many things wrong with the shitty dive-bar. Seats too high, tables too high. The counter's the only thing remotely level and even that felt like he was a toddler trying to grab a cookie from the jar. One lousy scotch and he'd decided to sit outside and plan his next move. Maybe hit up a bar he knows will provide better company, and better ambience.

Still. Oz also watches the young couple walk inside and he groans under his breath, leaning back in his chair and finally catching the eye of the woman smoking her cigarette. "You got another one of those? I think I need one after watching that." He holds out a hand to show he's serious. "Who's gonna tell them it'll all go downhill in, what, five years?"

[detkowalsky]

Without even looking at him she holds out the pack, lighter pinched against it for the pass-off, nodding as he took it and bending halfway over to look at a scuff on her shoe that probably was less that and more the tired sort of haze her eyes found themselves with when she was tired.

"Five?" She says, mock-offense thick in her tone as she chuffs out a short huff of laughter. "Awful generous, let's see if they clear five months."

A cynic. Ah, her people.

Normally she'd have given him his requested smoke and lit it and fucked off into some other more private corner but tonight? Eh, tonight was for celebrating - what that was she didn't know, but the people inside had been excited about something. Good enough reason for her, too, she supposed.

Finally she turns to look at Oz, taking him in.

"Just another night in The City, yeah?" She asks. At least being lonely wasn't going to be a lonely affair - maybe normally she'd prefer it that way but eh, it was a good week and an even better day, so why not be a little cooler than the weather and enjoy a partner in waiting for a cab to come by. Or maybe Uber. She didn't know, she used the subway mostly.

[ariaboughton]

She doesn't often make her way this far down in the city, and certainly not without reason. But well, her mind has been an interesting place lately. If it wasn't one thing on her mind, it was another, and then another. More often than not it led to her thoughts spiraling out of control and reconnecting with Riley hadn't helped at all. Not when she wanted nothing more than to stay focused on another woman.

So Aria had decided on a change of pace, a change of scenery, trying to stop relying on conversations over texts, wine, and the occasional sleepover with her best friend and his cats. And it was working for a time, until the sharp burn of something strong wasn't doing much to numb the racing thoughts.

Outside with fresh air and fumbling around for her lighter, she huffed a sigh and gestured to the woman who was already smoking. "I think I left my lighter at home." Her smile wavers a bit, unease creeping in, but she remains polite as she rifles for her pack of smokes, too. "Can I bum a light?"

[detkowalsky]

Half a cigarette of uninterrupted cynical brooding and a voice cracks the silence like an egg-shell, Kowalsky turning to face the newcomer, cigarette bobbing up and down as it dangles on her lips, clinging for dear life as she gives a short sharp nod.

She cups her hand around Aria's cigarette and sparks the flint. "Y'know if you're gonna smoke these you oughta probably keep a backup. Not everyone's as nice as me."

It's a joke, and she's smiling. Innocuous enough. Kowalsky tosses her the green Bic.

"You can keep that one, by the way. I take my own advice."

She leans back against the wrought iron separating the bar property from the streetside, taking in the sounds of the city while she gets an eyeful of this new, single-serving friend.

[liaortiz]

detkowalsky​:

Location: Evening At Hole in the Wall Bar In SoHo Status: Open

She’s getting older. It’s all over but the crying.

The venue’s nice but it’s not exactly her vibe, Tanya long ago aged out of that crowd and the second the music became too new for her to recognize as anything she’d ever give the grace of being called as such she knew her minutes were numbered. That said, it was a night without homework, so to speak, and she was damned if she was about to go sit alone at home this early on a weekend night - that would be admitting defeat.

And so, she begrudgingly stepped out to light up a cigarette, pining for the days when you could enjoy one in air conditioning, but. well, sometimes life wasn’t fair.

She watches a younger couple head in after her, two girls lost in each other’s eyes and she remembers when she had that sort of hope. Her lip curls around the filter as she finds something to lean on, her disaffected half smile fighting for its life against her natural grimace.

"It's cute, right?" It's in her nature to be observant. Lia's day to day is spent studying people, soaking them up, gossiping up the chain. It doesn't simply turn off when she walks out of the office - she relies on it further, her inner romantic thriving on it. "It's all fun and games. Getting to know one another, silly little secrets, the butterflies."  It’s so sweet. "And then it all just goes away." That's when she gets bored, because there's not a chance anything is good if all that special stuff is dead in the water. "But, it's fun while it lasts." She shrugs, glancing over her current company and flashing a smile. "Could I have one?" Beat. "Please."

[detkowalsky]

"Cute's a word…" she says around her cigarette. It was, too. Not her word maybe, or the one she'd use, but it was definitely a word. Cigarette dangling between two trimmed fingernails hung to her side, Kowalsky turns towards the approaching voice to size her up in the dim orange glow that paints the front of the bar.

She stares a minute, looks her up and down while her free hand fishes the pack from her pocket, shaking it loose and offering it to Ortiz with a neutral expression. When she takes it, the lighter follows, along with Kowalsky, moving in close to protect the flame from the evening breeze, more out of reflex than necessity.

"You sound like you're having a good night." she observes, sarcasm writ plain in her tone, the upturn of her cheeks punctuating it in the city's orange, night-time monochrome.

[juliecartcr-deactivated20231114]

WHO: @detkowalsky WHERE: frank's

The clock had just struck ten when Julie decided to give up on ever making a dent in the documents strewn across her desk: a stack of memoranda for signature, a pile of flagged police blotters, and a dozen other witness reports. She's far too fatigued to stomach a long subway ride home so she opts, instead, for a detour, to replace the lingering caffeine in her system with some stronger stuff.

Predictably, Frank's on a Friday night is packed with more than a few familiar faces. Five years into the job, and still she finds no joy in talking with them beyond shop talk, and she suspects the sentiment is returned. Julie moves through the crowd in the hopes of finding a booth for herself, to no avail. She's acquiesced to a quiet night alone when she spots a friendly face — friendly enough, at least. Not once in their innumerable exchanges have they ever really decided on a name for it.

"Would you forgive my intrusion if I said that your next round is on me?" Before she can think, Julie slides into the booth, her lips curving slightly to form the barest of smiles. "Alright, maybe two rounds."

[detkowalsky]

The headache of the day gone because she's stuffed her brain up with the cottony feeling of blood thinned up with a couple of Washington Apples, sweet and dry and a perfect aperitif for the evening unwind. It had been an easy day, all things considered - paperwork mostly - the coffee'd been good in the a.m., and any day where she got to wake up to an alarm clock instead of a phone call was, generally speaking, a good one.

Was it bad that both her good days and bad ended in bars? Probably. That was for her therapist to figure out if she ever decided to buy into that scam.

She'd been about to yell a complaint at the game on the T.V. when into her view strode Carter with a line smoother than the Crown mixed in with the schnapps, or smooth enough and no sooner was Kowalsky tap-tap-tapping the table to invite her in than her fellow detective was sidling into the banquette.

"Two???" She says, greeting enough. "How do I say no to that?"

She raises her glass and drains the dregs off the ice before setting it back down. "Happy Friday, Carter. What's the weekly damage report?"

She smiles, bouncing the brows under her red-orange shag, trying to be friendly, on occasion of the weekend.

[detkowalsky]

Location: Evening At Hole in the Wall Bar In SoHo Status: Open

She's getting older. It's all over but the crying.

The venue's nice but it's not exactly her vibe, Tanya long ago aged out of that crowd and the second the music became too new for her to recognize as anything she'd ever give the grace of being called as such she knew her minutes were numbered. That said, it was a night without homework, so to speak, and she was damned if she was about to go sit alone at home this early on a weekend night - that would be admitting defeat.

And so, she begrudgingly stepped out to light up a cigarette, pining for the days when you could enjoy one in air conditioning, but. well, sometimes life wasn't fair.

She watches a younger couple head in after her, two girls lost in each other's eyes and she remembers when she had that sort of hope. Her lip curls around the filter as she finds something to lean on, her disaffected half smile fighting for its life against her natural grimace.