"You're looking particularly lovely today, Colleen."
Colleen James looked up from her typewriter. Jack McCoy was leaning against her desk, holding a bouquet of white roses, grinning down at her. His tie and jacket were off and his sleeves rolled up, as always when he was not actually in court. I'm not really one of the up-tight upstairs lawyers, his disregard for office convention said. I'm just a regular Joe like you.
And also, Colleen reflected, it lets him show off that well-put-together body of his. She doubted it was a coincidence.
"What can I do for you, Mr. McCoy?" she asked, not returning his smile.
"You can tell me when you're going to finally learn to call me 'Jack'," he said slyly.
"I'm a married woman," Colleen said, shooting a quick glance at the door across the hall to check that the door with the nameplate Daniel James was closed. "And you're a …"
"Formerly married man," McCoy said with what could only be called a roguish grin.
"I think it's better to keep things on a professional basis, Mr. McCoy."
"Well, okay, then, Mrs. James," McCoy said, not sounding in the least bit offended – or discouraged.
The outer door to the office opened and Erin Hartigan, one of the other five secretaries who worked in Narcotics, came in. McCoy immediately stopped lounging against Colleen's desk. He stepped in front of Erin and proffered the bouquet.
"Erin, your outstanding typing skills, not to mention the fact that you caught three separate spelling errors that got past three paralegals and two junior ADAs as well as me, were absolutely crucial to Judge Davison granting our warrant, which led directly to the arrest of Nate Foley, who two hours ago agreed to testify against his colleagues. Thanks to you, Erin, New York's finest are currently rolling up one of the city's most intractable criminal enterprises. On behalf of a grateful populace, thank you."
By the time he'd finished, Erin was blushing bright red. Shyly, she took the bouquet, to a round of applause from the other secretaries and two paralegals who had stuck their heads in from their bull-pen next door.
Colleen clapped along with the rest. Jack McCoy was given to such extravagant gestures, which no doubt contributed to a good part of the gossip that followed him around the building. And while Colleen didn't approve of the way he didn't seem to be able to carry on a conversation with one of the female staff without turning his charm dial up to full, she did approve of one of the DA's hot-shot young lawyers taking a few moments to acknowledge that there were dozens of people, low-profile and low-paid, who contributed to every one of those banner headlines of prosecutorial success.
Always white roses, or a box of chocolates tied with a white ribbon, or a ticket to a Broadway show in a crisp white envelope. More cynical ADAs sneered at McCoy and his white knight complex. McCoy had laughed at them, and made the label his own.
As McCoy joked with Erin and the other staff, Colleen turned back to her typewriter. Bonhomie was all very well, but it didn't get subpoenas issued.
When Dan finished meeting with his witness and opened his door, he would see her hard at work.