The city had woken up loud today, a steady buzz that had decided to haunt Danny from the moment he opened his eyes. He was going through the motions — a little bit. One foot in front of the other until he made it home with his paper bag, regrettably full of vegetables and some ginger drink that promised it would flush any toxins from his body. Danny thought about the last twenty years of his life and wondered if maybe he should have brought two.
He was sober ( again, ) technically. As of that morning.
It was going well, he thought, definitely better than it could have been given he had just crossed paths with what was almost certainly a grand theft auto in progress — in broad daylight, no less. Danny slowed down as he approached the vehicle and did a quick mental checklist of where his standard issue pistol and badge where on his person ( holstered on his hip and tucked into the inside pocket of his jacket. ) He wouldn’t need them but figured, in this city, it never hurt to think one step ahead. The stranger alerted before Danny could speak first; clearly intoxicated ( ugh ) and as fate would have it: not a stranger at all. “Grand larceny’s a felony in New York, you know.” And Jesus, he would love to put Lucien Farrow’s baby brother in jail for 18 months but making a move like that, this early in the game, might be dumber than trying to steal a car before lunch.
Which. “And that’s in the case that they don’t find any priors or crimes linked to that pocket knife you got there.“ Danny stared at Jameson blankly, hitching the paper bag up his arms. “— you don’t have any priors, do ya ?“ It’s not the question he would like to ask ( which is: why are you two blocks away from my apartment? ) but nothing about what was happening screamed premeditated so Danny figured his point stood.
It’s times like this that he considers that perhaps he should be a superstitious person. Jameson had spilled some salt at a dash & dine the night prior. Perhaps this was the consequences of spilled salt and broken mirrors. Of course he recognized the detective’s voice from their past. The way he saw it he had very few choices what to do in the moment. The first was just speed the car away and possibly hurt them both. That sounded more like him, but instead he decided he didn’t want to fuck up that badly.
Instead his bright blue irises flickered from the pocket knife to Danny’s face, and then to the paper bag he held. He flashed that mischievous Farrow smile, that only meant bad fortune for him. “Well, well, hey Brian. Been a bit” He had to sell this moment, even though he was thoroughly fucked. He turned his gaze down to his pocket knife and furrowed his brows. “Look man. I would love to play this game with you, but not today. I got important places t’be. The car is started, and have you seen this car? If I was doing Grand larceny doncha think I would pick a BMW or some car that looks much more classy than Lucy’s?” He deserved an academy award for this performance, until...
“What do you think you’re going to find on this pocket knife? Clearly there’s no blood spilled here. It’s not like I just had a jonesin’ to murk the prior owner of the car and hide him in the trunk.” Fuck. He didn’t actually know what was in the trunk, since this was clearly not his brother’s car. Jameson cleared his throat and did a circular motion in the air pointing at the bag in Danny’s hands. “What’s in the bag, buddy?” Ah yes, a good, clearly not obvious, change of subject.
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