Disclaimer:
Still own nothing in the World of Wolf. If I did, I wouldn't have to depend on the current job with such desperation. The title is based on a play by Jean Kerr. A cute three-act comedy, some of the elements may or may not be woven into this collection. (A Waterston fan might possibly know of this play)
Author's Note: First "Drabble" effort as well as an attempt to "lighten up," given the last story. No particular time period (could be before/after the events of Nightmares&Knots) save Year 15/16 (Alex Borgia) and potentially plot-less.
Lunch Hour – I
Alex Borgia was starving. The sooner they made it to the café, the better. Given the hour, one would have hoped for fewer people furiously fetching their food, assuming the 'standard lunch time' had come and gone. Of course, this was New York. Standard 'Anything' Time was meaningless.
She thrust her hands deep in her pockets while impatiently waiting for the crosswalk light to change. It irritated her how Jack McCoy stood beside her, an 'are-you kidding' grin on his face. How he could be so comfortable on a windy day like this was beyond her.
"I don't get it," she said aloud.
"Funny, I was about to say the same thing to you," he said.
She shook her head. "How can you be used to this? And don't tell me that it's age, because I can cut that short for you right now if I need to."
"Ride a motorcycle and this is about the same thing, racing through the-."
"Why a motorcycle?" she asked, jumping as soon as the light changed at last.
He quickened his pace if only to keep up with her. "Why not? It's easier to find a place to park it; it doesn't use up quite as much fuel; and it's easier to maneuver in and out of traffic."
"Well," Alex said walking purposefully toward the café she had in mind, "they still scare me."
Jack chuckled. "That," he said gesturing to the rush of cars, "scares me."
She gave him a look, wondering how long it had been since he'd eaten last.
"Why do you think I take the subway?" he said, holding the door for her.
They found a table in the corner, away from the blaring music by the counter. The theme of the café was a fifties style design complete with tabletop jukeboxes. A piece of masking tape covered the coin slot with the words 'broken' scribbled on it.
"This is your favorite place?" Jack asked. He removed his jacket and lay it on the back of his chair. "You know we don't have that long of a lunch, right?"
Alex smiled, keeping her coat and scarf on, thank you very much. "Nostalgia, good music-."
"When it works," he said pointing to the piece of tape.
"The clothes… Come on Jack, this was like an ideal time in history." She hid behind her menu waiting for his response.
He scoffed. "I've many a reason to disagree with you there, but we don't have time for a summation." Glancing over the options, he asked, "What's safe to order?"
Alex learned that if he asked the question while the menu was open, it was a rhetorical question. If the menu was closed, he was serious. Since she hid behind hers, she wasn't certain which version of the question was asked this time.
"When we're done here," he said, "there are some files I want to review."
Rhetorical, she decided. All she knew was, whatever she ordered was going to be hot. "Sure," she said, still not looking up.
He leaned forward and in a low voice said, "There's the E. Coli case against the burger chain, the mercury poisoning at the dairy farm, the murder charges at the Peterson Packaging Plant, oh, and the asbestos contamination at with the grocery store chain." When he finished, he leaned back as if nothing was the matter.
Alex slowly lowered her menu, annoyance in her eyes. "Well, I think I'm just going to have a bowl of soup, then. Thanks."
"Sure," he said. Jack snapped his fingers. "I almost forgot, the lead investigation at the ceramics company, too." He looked back down at his menu. "Seriously, Alex, what do you usually order when you come here?"
"I wouldn't know. This is my first visit," she said, wondering who would lose control over their smirk first.