Prompt: Daylight Summary: First crime scene. First mistake. Notes: Part 2/5 of a Flack/Lindsay prompt set. Con-crit and a general liked it/not is love. I own nothing.

The buzz faded in and out of the telephone conversation, constantly reminding Lindsay that her best friend was several states away and not just a few miles like they were used to. She tuned her friend out for a moment, glancing around her at how other people were walking. Confidant, strong, rushed; weaving in and out of the crowd to find that opportunity to pull ahead of everyone else.

Lindsay mumbled the obligatory few words gotta-go-talk-to-ya-later and snapped the phone shut to keep up with the crowd. This was soon forgotten, shoes turned to concrete blocks, when the first glimmers red and blue shone through the daylight. New York's Finest were out, folks, and they were lookin' fine.

Officers, like a swarm of mosquitos attracted by the mesmerizing lights, walked this way and that looking important and untouchable. Lindsay could practically hear their thoughts. Her brain stopped, but her legs kept moving and before she new it, the little girl from Montana was in the middle of some very large and very busy looking NYPD cops. Mouth opened halfway, but a thick accent beat her to it.

"You must be the new one." The owner, a female, though it wasn't obvious because of the thick accent, was leaning against a squad car, left arm akimbo, right arm casually flicking the plastic cover of an officer's notebook up and down. "You're gonna have to get that deer-outta-the-headlights look out of your system before you meet your fellow geeks. Officer Cunningham, first on scene. It's not every day you see a man mauled by a tiger. Who picked you up from the airport? I heard Taylor's pretty good about the house warming things. Surprising for a man who lost his..."

"My name's Lindsay Monroe. And a Detective Flack picked me up."

"You like him?"

Lindsay had to wait several seconds to see if the talkative officer was really finished before she answered, "I guess so" What is this, high school?

"If you wanna be taken seriously around here, kid, you gotta lie convincingly. Or better yet, don't lie at all."

Mortified at being called a kid by someone who definitley looked younger than herself, and frustrated at being caught in such an awkward position her first day on the job, Lindsay blurted out the truth. "I think he's an asshole with an inflated ego."

Expecting a laugh, a frown, or a speech, and getting nothing but a "speak-of-the-devil" from the amused officer, Lindsay took a deep breath and turned to face another amused employee of the NYPD. Mouth frozen, but legs forced to move by increasing pressure on her elbow, Flack turned 'walk and talk' into 'drag and talk' and spout forth information into Lindsay's ear. "Crime scene's this way. DOA, man mauled by a tiger, and Cunningham's right this time. Not something you see everyday. Mac's been waiting for you. And don't listen to a thing Messer says; he's too full of crap to trust half the things he says, especially if you don't know him very well. You're late, better hurry."

A point towards the crime scene, and Lindsay was left to walk to the crime scene, alone, and with burning ears. I just called him an asshole... so he obviously doesn't like me very much... and he told me to not trust Messer (what kind of a name is that?) so I guess I should trust him.

The next few moments were a blur, with the words "call him sir" ringing around in her head next to "he's too full of crap to trust". Then she was kneeling on the ground, too close to a tiger's mouth for comfort, and spouting information, unneessesary and unwonted, at rapid-fire speed. She calls him sir, glares at Danny, then sees Flack a few hundred yards away. Smirking. "I told you so" written all over his face.

"So, have you met any hot guys yet?"

"I haven't met anybody yet." Still the typical best friend, even though miles (lightyears, is more like it) away.

"But didn't they send someone to pick you up at the airport?"

"Yeah, they sent a detective." The sentences were short and simple, Lindsay was still trying to fit into the flow of the native New Yorkers.

"Guy?" I can see where this is going.

"Yeah."

"Hot?"

Could she guess by the way I said it? "No." Lie. "Hey, I gotta go. I'm already late, and I think I see the crime scene up ahead..."