For the most part, dinner reminded Maureen and Kathleen of an interrogation: one on one. Throughout the entire meal (beef stew full of all these viatmens and herbs that you only hear about in the abstract) Elliot tried to get Trish to open up about herself, with a little prodding from Olivia, while Fin and Munch just watched the teen sidestep nearly all of Elliot's more invasive questions gracefully.
"Trish? Short for Trisha?" Elliot asked the teen about halfway through the meal.
"Trishna, actually," she responded, filling her spoon with broth.
"That Hindi?" Fin asked with a furrowed brow.
Trish nodded, "In the original Sanskrit it means thirst or desire. My mom always had a ... thing for exotic names."
Fin snorted, "At least they didn't go so far as what my dad did: Odafin."
Trish grinned at him, "Actually, my mom won that argument: Dad wanted to name me Akanksha."
At that revealation, the four detectives were stunned silent, but Maureen found enough of her voice to say, "Wow."
"So what's your full name, Trish?" Elliot asked, getting back to the topic he had wanted to discuss in the first place.
"Is that the polite way of trying to find out if I have any relatives who've served time, Detective Stabler?" Trish asked with a slight smirk and a twinkle in her eye. Elliot had the decency to look a little chagrined at the statement. To tell the truth, he was a little miffed that a fifteen-year-old was able to call him out like that. "I'll be sixteen next week, Mr. Stabler, don't feel too bad about it."
"Are you gonna cut through the middle ground and fill us in?" Munch asked, sitting back in his chair.
"My uncle's prints are in the system, but to the best of my knowledge that's not because he was ever arrested. And I don't think my grandmother was leading a double life when my dad and uncle were growing up, so I think you're safe." Trish looked pensive after she said this, and after a minute she nodded, "Yeah, I think that's it. Just don't piss off my uncle."
"And what's your uncle's name?" Elliot asked, enjoying the challenge learning information from this girl.
Trish grinned, still full in the mode of toying with him, "Bobby."
"So you expect me to look through the New York database for a guy who hasn't been arrested named Bobby. No last name?"
"Oh, you wanted my last name?" Trish said, her eyes wide in mock innocence. "You really should learn to be more specific about these things." She picked her spoon back up and started eating again, purposefully ignoring Elliot's question.
Kathy smiled at the incredulous look her husband sent to the teen. He really had to learn to be careful around teenage girls. The other three detectives, she could tell, were also silently laughing at Elliot for having a teenager run circles around him so effectively. When would he ever learn.
"Your last name, Trish? What is it?" Elliot finally said after a few more minutes of suffering the silent laughter of everyone else at the table - his teenage daughters included.
"Hm?" Trish said, swallowing what was in her mouth before she said, "Oh. My last name's Goren."
Fin swallowed his water through the wrong pipe and ended up coughing after Trish's announcement for a good two minutes. She looked at him worriedly, "You really should be more careful about that."
He looked at her oddly, "I didn't know Bobby Goren has a brother."
Trish's eyes grew sad, "Had. He had a brother."
Fin and Elliot grew quiet as Trish and the rest of the women continued to eat in silence. Elliot opened his mouth to say something, but Trish cut him off, "Kathy? What herbs did you use in this? I can taste cilantro, parsley, nutmeg, cumin and a hint of oragino and a bay leaf, but there's something else?"
Kathy's eyes went a little wide, "You have a good tongue. Sage is the only other spice I used beside salt and pepper."
Trish nodded her aprovement, "Excellent work."
John Munch sniffed a spoonful of his own stew before turning awestruck eyes to Trish, "How did you do that?"
She opened her mouth to reply but Fin beat her to it. He slapped his partner on the arm and reminded him, "Don't you remember that Goren can tell exactly what the last meal of a vic is by their breath? It's his niece, of course she can pick out the damn spices."
"Actually, my mom was a chef and taught me how to taste a meal at the base ingredients," Trish explained, rubbing her now sore casted wrist. Damn it, she thought to herself, I left my pain meds at home.
Soon the meal was complete and Trish helped Maureen and Kathleen put the dishes in the dishwasher. "Thanks again for the help on my paper," Kathleen said, "I'm sorry my dad's such an ass."
Trish shrugged, "It's not your fault. And for the record, he's a cop - he's supposed to be nosy." She motioned toward the wall posted telephone, "I need to call for a ride."
"No problem," Kathleen said with a nod before leaving the room.
Maureen turned to Trish as her younger sister left, "So that's how you got your cast? When your dad died?"
Trish nodded with a slight smile, "You're good at picking up on things. It was a car crash, about a month ago."
Maureen sighed with a sad smile, "Sorry. I don't know what I'd do without my dad ... even if he is a little too nosy sometimes."
"I hope you never have to find out," Trish replied, the memory of her father still bittersweet in her mind and heart.
The doorbell rang, causing Munch to get up and answer it because he was closest to the door. When he saw who it was, he let out a laugh as he said, "Mike!"
Mike Logan looked at John Munch in surprise. They had worked a short stint together in the 2-7. "John. Great to see you, man."
"What are you going here, Mike?" John asked as he ushered him into the house.
"I'm actually here to pick up Trish. Goren and Eames are apparently on a role with their latest case," he said as they walked into the living room. Trish had her back pack in her right hand, her left now gingerly carried close to her chest. "You ready to go?"
Trish nodded, "Thanks for dinner, Kathy. It really was very good."
"Any time, Trish," Kathy said with a smile. "I'm actually still a bit shocked that you got Kathleen to finish that paper so soon."
Elliot, who had just taken a sip of a beer, spit it out. "What? Kathleen finished her English paper? I thought it wasn't due until next week."
"Dad!" Kathleen protested indignantly.
"She just needed a little help getting started," Trish told the detective coolly. Turning back to Mike she said, "Shall we go?"
Mike raised his eyebrows, "I think we shall."
Kathleen launched herself at Trish and gave the younger girl a fierce hug, "Thanks again for the help."
"Don't mention it," Trish said with a smile. "Thanks for listening."
