A/N this chapter's twice as long as any others cause I could not find a place to break it, but enjoy it anyway, I think this clears up a bit more about Vicky.
She didn't notice the first knock, or the second, it was the third one that finally caught her attention, and she had just barely unlocked the door when the phone rang. "Come on in!" She shouted, answering the phone. The person that stepped in wasn't the one she thought it would be, and she motioned for him to hang on while she listened to the person on the line. "Oh, right, too bad, I'll see you later then," She paused listening to the caller, "no, it's nothing, don't worry about it, I told you, it's OK, love you too, bye."
She hung up the phone and stopped the buzzing kitchen timer before finally turning to the person who had walked in. "Sorry about all that, just everything happened at once."
"Brubeck." He pointed out, and she laughed.
"Yep." She took off the instrument around her neck and placed it on a stand in the corner of the sitting room.
"Your report." He said, handing it to her. He was walking to the door when the kitchen timer blared again.
"Thanks, but listen, the person who was coming just canceled and I've got all this food, you want dinner?" She smiled at his awkward expression. "It's not like it's poisoned or anything, it's just dinner."
"No thanks, it's OK." He said, and she laughed.
"Dr. Macy, you're drooling." He flushed slightly as she knew that he very nearly was with the aroma drifting out of the kitchen.
"It does smell good." he conceded and she shook her head. "I can't though." He told her and edged for the door.
"Wife and kids waiting?" She asked and he shook his head.
"No."
"Then stay. I'm not going to kill you, just feed you, I've made enough for two and the rest is just going to sit in my fridge and rot if someone else doesn't eat it." He thought about it for a long minute. "Look, I'm not the wicked witch of the west, I'm not out to get you, and why would I want to do harm to the person that is directly responsible for my paycheck? If you weren't around, I wouldn't have a job, and thus I'd be stuck in Boston with no money, I think I'd want to keep you around." He smiled and walked in. "That's a boy, there's drinks in the fridge, help yourself." She pointed to the aging refridgerator in the corner as she busied herself with dishing out the food.
She laid them down with the silverware at opposite ends of the small kitchen table. She sat down and so did he and looked up, waiting for her. "Don't tell me you say grace." He shook his head.
"no, do you?" She laughed.
"I'm a Jew eating sausage, I think saying grace would be looked upon as mockery." He grinned and took a cautious bite.
"This is pretty good." He admitted and she grinned.
"Thank you" She paused for a second, focusing on cutting through the meat.. "So you like jazz, huh?" She asked trying to come up with a topic for conversation.
"Yeah."
"Anyone in particular?"
"Brubeck, early Miles, the bird, Duke Ellington, Satchmo."
"The classic greats. You do realize there is jazz beyond the known artists."
"Harder to find their records."
"Budget binning." She told him. "Gotta love the dollar racks. So, you play?" She asked him and he shrugged.
"Not jazz." She thought for a minute.
"I bet you that I can guess what instrument you play." He looked at her skeptically.
"No, really. Stick out your hand." He did so and she grasped it in hers, running a finger across his rough skin, poking and prodding at various places. "Your other one." She said after finishing with the first. He complied, still looking skeptical. "Drums." She said after a bit. "But you look like a horn player, trumpet would be my guess." He seemed shocked at her words.
"How can you tell?" He asked.
"Magic." She grinned. "No, seriously, you've got callous where your sticks rest, none on your fingertips, which rules out strings, and you just look like a trumpet player."
He seemed impressed. "My dad played the horn." He confessed.
"Not bad for me." She said, as she collected their empty plates and stuck them in the fridge. "So, you guys find anything interesting with our victim? You didn't cheat, did you?" He smiled.
"Nothing really, we're waiting on DNA, and no, we didn't cheat."
"Drink?" She asked him and he shrugged.
"What d'ya got?" He asked, and she opened up her liquor cabinet.
"Wild turkey, Kaluha, Jack Daniels, Jim Beam, Kentucky Vintage and some brandy."
"Bourbon fan." he pointed out.
"Guilty as charged. Got a thing for whiskey."
"Scotch person myself." he commented.
"Still whiskey." She said looking at the brands.
"Wild turkey." He said after debating and she pulled out two tumblers and poured a generous measure into each. They retreated into the living room where he looked around. "So you play the horn?" He gestured to the instrument in the corner.
"Sax and guitar." She sat down, and indicated for him to do the same. "And I'm sorry about the mess, still unpacking."
"Been here for long?" He asked, and she shook her head.
"Not quite a week." Spent all of it working and getting over jet lag."
"Where were you before?"
"Vep." He gave her a questioning glance. "It's a little town in west Hungary, not that far from the border, before that I was living in New York."
"Never been to New England?" He asked, and she shrugged.
"Vacation, a few times, but never stayed here for more than a week. How 'bout you?"
"Born and raised."
"A true Masshole eh?" He grinned at the insult. "So, Dr. Macy-" She started, and he cut her off.
"Garret." He corrected and she smiled.
"Well, if we're going to be on a first name basis, please, call me Vicky, at least the average person can pronounce it." He grinned. "So, Garret, if you don't play jazz, and you do play drums, what do you play?"
"Rock." He said with a shrug.
"In a band?" He shook his head.
"Not in a long time."
"Too bad." She said, meaning it too.
"You?" He questioned, and she shook her head.
"Played a little bit over there, last time I seriously played was in New York, ages ago. Don't care for playing on stage though, would suck if I freezed up."
"Happens often?" He asked concerned.
"Often enough to be completely and totally annoying." She unconsciously stretched her bad side.
"If you don't mind me asking-" He started and she grinned.
"Stroke, twenty years ago." He looked at her, the doctor in him coming out.
"A little young." He pointed out and she shrugged.
"Wound up with bad genes. Missing an entire anti clotting protein and have a defective anti-thrombin III, my blood's thicker than some of the toxic sludge in New Jersey. Didn't find out about til the stroke though, by that time the damage was done. Doesn't usually bother me though, just had a rough day today." She stifled a yawn and he got up. "'Scuse me." She said, and he placed his glass back in the sink.
"It's late." He said.
"Didn't mean to keep you." He shrugged.
"It's nothing. Dinner was good." She grinned.
"Thank you." She opened the door for him. "I'll have your report back to you tomorrow, see you in the morning."
"See you tomorrow." He said walking out.
"Night." She called after him, leaving her alone with her thoughts about what had just transpired.