"Hope? HOOOPEE?" Elliot hollered down the hallway from the kitchen.

"What!" She snapped back still angrily grumpy from the sun having the audacity to rise so damn early.

"Breakfasts now, and school is like ten minutes ago, so get your butt moving. Do you understand me, young lady?"

Hope grumbled again, and slammed the door quickly. She hated when he said 'young lady' or 'Hope Elizabeth', it was so damn patronizing. "Leave me alone." She thought, very loudly. Clumsily she hid her cell phone, her cigarettes, and her lighter in the same pocket and came running out for breakfast.

"Hey sweetheart," Elliot said patiently walking over to give her a kiss on the forehead. "Why don't you get yourself a drink?"

And as she reached for the glass it all came tumbling out. The lighter and the cigarettes. She picked them up fast with her cell phone.

"Dropped my phone better get it…hehe, silly me."

"Hope Elizabeth, stand up right now." His voice had suddenly made a 180 degree turn.

"…Yeess?"

"Empty your pockets, immediately."

"But…"

"Right now. I really don't want to have to count to three."

(What's really funny about the counting to three threat, is that no one ever really waits for three…it could always be an empty threat.)

"Look…I don't have to and I won't. I'm seventeen years old, Elliot, I have certain rights. You can't hold anything against me that wasn't found in a good search."

Elliot grinned inside. A.D.A Novak was rubbing off on his little girl, his smart-ass little girl, but it was sweet all the same.

"Except, my darling, it was a good search, because I have probable cause. They fell out of your pocket, and I found them before the commission of a crime. I am using a pre-emptive strike, you could say."

"Jesus…Elliot…"

"I'm waiting…One…TWO…" His voice was growing louder, and sterner, and more bad cop by the second, and Hope did not feel like testing him. She emptied her pockets quickly laying the cigarettes and lighter far away from him on the table.

"You will listen to me, and you will listen good. You're late for school so I'm only going to talk for a moment. I will not allow you to smoke your life away. I don't care if you're seventeen or if you come home to visit at 30…you are not allowed to smoke while living in this house. Secondly, I would have you know that if I find you smoking I will whoop your tiny ass into remembering this particular rule."

Hope just stared, almost frightened, at Elliot. He reached swiftly onto the table and took the cigarettes out, breaking them all in two with large hands, and then deposited the remains in the trash. The two continued to stare each other down, as Hope grew more indignant by the second.

"I'm not five years old, Elliot!"

"I would hope you weren't smoking at five…" He bit bat sarcastically.

"You can't tell me what to do. This is a personal decision! Mine to make, and mine alone."

"Except it's not. And the answers no, end of discussion."

"Okay, be a patronizing, condescending A-HOLE…it seems to be in your nature…"

Stabler took a deep breath in and Hope's stomach did nervous somersaults. She had only been living here for a few months, and had never pushed the envelope this far.

"Excuse me, Hope Elizabeth?"

"There you go…starting that stuff again. My name is Hope…talk to me, not at me."

"Well, Hope, I don't have civilized conversations with people who disrespect me, understood?"

"Oh right, Elliot, how do you deal with that 'on the streets' beat the shit out of any perp that fits the target for you at the moment?"

"Hope…" Elliot's voice sank to a warning tone.

"Yes? Never mind, Elliot, I realize you don't deal well with strong personalities. I'll back down to assuage your ego."

"HOPE!" Elliot barked loudly. "I don't deal well with punk-kid smart-ass's who think they can out talk me, because they can't. Are we understood?"

"Whatever, screw this…"

Hope bounded out of the apartment, slamming the door angrily behind her. "Hope Elizabeth – Young LADY – blahblahblah…" she muttered under her breath.

Just then her cell phone began to call out for her to answer it, the sounds of a poor quality Marley ring-tone, echoing in the staircase.

"Yeah, I'm still getting a ride…I'll be out in a second…No, nothing's wrong…can we just pick up some cigarettes on the way to school?"