"Don't make this harder than it has to be. Just tell me what you did, it's that simple." Regan demanded. She was furious, but holding on to her composure.
He was astounded by her arrogance.
He put his hands behind his back and leaned over slightly and stared into her eyes. He didn't have to lean too far. She's tall. He pushed the thought out of his head, and lowered his voice. "No." he said simply.
"You underestimate me Detective." She glared at him.
"I wasn't aware that I had estimated you. This is our case, we had no obligation to include you in any part of it." He was beyond humoring her.
She had proven incompetent. He and Eames had easily ditched her to find Melanie Grasso. He had closed the case before she even realized she was out of the loop. This was exactly why he had no patience for the FBI. He looked down at her. The cold air was turning her nose red. As much as he tried to fight it, he still found her attractive. He took another step forward. It never hurt to invade someone's personal space. He would see where this would lead.
She was astounded by his arrogance.
She was trying to save them both some professional pride here. After all, she had carefully aranged this "chance" meeting outside the D.A.'s office. She thought that out here, he wouldn't have to worry about anyone finding out whatever he was hiding. Of course, out here she was safe from humiliation as well.
It had not been a good week, at least not for her.
Regan was willing to admit that she had come to NY in an apathetic state.
She had been doing interviewing, research, and some writing for over 2 years. She had been out of direct action.
That all changed the day she went with Goren and Eames to the arcade to get Kevin Dononvan. It wasn't that the situation was brand new to her. Hardly. In her years with Jared, scenes like that were common. It wasn't even that it was all that exciting. Kevin had no gun; there was no real threat. But seeing Eames dodge his swing, and seeing Goren slam him down and cuff him, well, it was like blood in the water to a shark. She was the shark and she was after more blood.
The adrenaline that pumped through her veins on that day was as addictive as heroine. She remembered why she loved being an agent.
She would have loved to say that it was the FBI mission…that she loved "protecting and defending the US against terrorists and spies; upholding and enforcing the criminal laws of the US; and providing leadership and criminal justice services to our international, federal, state, and local partners."
Partly, it was that. But those were the rules of the game.
She loved the rules, but what hooked her?
It was the play, and the WIN.
So when Detectives Goren and Eames ditched her in the middle of the case, she would not be pacified. She WOULD find out what happened, and she WOULD make sure they knew that she had found the information she was looking for. In short, she would let them know that they had not gotten over on her.
Her apathy was now defunct.
And Goren, trying to intimidate her with his arrogance, and his physicality, was not going to control her. (She refused to admit that when he had taken that step into her physical space, that her stomach had once again flipped.)
She ignored her stomach, and the throbbing in the left side of her head, and put on her game face. "I know about Melanie Grasso; I know you pulled the end run around Carver and made the deal with McShale."
He took a step back. She was good. He had underestimated her.
Ah ha. She had gotten him. She had not lost her instincts after all. She had done a little investigating, but really her theory was a big conjecture-until now.
She looked at him. She stored his reaction in the back of her mind. He takes a step back, blinks, recovers quickly when blindsided with a truth. That information would come in handy.
Bobby stepped forward. True, he had been blindsided, but it wasn't the first time. He regrouped. He had to get back into the game.
He noticed that she was rubbing her left temple. A strange reaction considering she had just had a victory. Her left hand had a rather large crescent shaped birthmark. He had realized it a couple of days ago. He had missed it the day of their first meeting.
"What is it that you want?" he asked, as he took another step forward. She smells good.
She felt the electricity of his presence as he moved closer to her. Why was he moving closer now? Game on;headache and all. She refused to back up. Let him stand on top of her. Jared's quote came back to her… think about sex indeed. Jared had run on pure instinct. He was convinced everyone was motivated by sex, at some level, and all the time. "All you have to do is figure out the motivation and the level," he would tell her.
Focus Regan. You aren't Jared; you use your intellect. What did she want?
"I want you and Eames to stop fighting me." Did she sound weak? " I want you to talk to me," she stated much more firmly. Damn, this cold was doing a number on her head.
"Wha, what do you want to talk to me about?" he asked as he rubbed his neck.
She sighed. "This case, and some other things." That didn't sound right."I am doing some research and I would like to ask you some questions. Listen, I have to get out of this cold. When can you talk?"
"Are you alright?" he sounded genuinely concerned. She was touched, but still guarded. Was her pain that obvious?
"Oh, fine, I will be fine when I get the hell out of this damn cold," she griped.
She heard Tom's voice in her head. Language Stabler. She would have to tell Tom later; his voice penetrated through the worst of headaches.
"Listen, Eames took the afternoon off. If you get out of the cold do you think that you will feel well enough to talk today?" Bobby wanted to get this over with. He needed his head to clear.
"That would be great, actually. I am supposed to go back to Washington tomorrow. Can I follow you back to 1PP?"
"No, come on, I know a great place we can talk." He sounded more relaxed now.
"Do they have coffee?" It was her drug of choice.
"Yes," he smiled and wondered if her headache was caused by caffeine withdrawal.