The game had gone downhill fast. Detroit was supposed to be a cakewalk and here the Yankees were playing worse than a bunch of kids in a streetball game. Don was so disgusted he started to people watch instead of focusing on the TV. Mostly the bar was full of the usual hardcore fans. He had commandeered a table with Danny and a couple of other guys from Homicide. A blonde in the corner caught his eye. Pleasant looking enough, but nothing too special. A thick, honey brown braid hung down her back. She was totally focused on the game, the beer in front of her barely touched. She was alone, a little more unusual. A groan went up from the crowd as the Tigers sent another runner home. The woman grinned brightly then quickly dropped an impassive mask back over her features. Don was intrigued. He continued watching her. Detroit lined up another runner on third base. Don elbowed Danny.

"Hey, whaddaya thinking," objected Danny.

Don nodded at the blonde. "Watch her. Over in the corner." Danny gave Don a funny look but did what he said. When the runner hit home, she gave that quick smile again.

"She didn't."

Don took a draw on his beer and smiled. "Yep. She did."

"Doesn't she know that's dangerous?"

"Maybe I should warn her."

Danny grinned at his friend. "I believe it's your duty as one of New York's finest." Don grinned back, nodded and crossed to her table.

"Excuse me." The blonde glanced up and flashed him an irritated look.

"I'm not interested. I'm here to watch the game."

"Yea. But you're rooting for the wrong team."

The blonde ducked her head. She looked around and up at Don. "That obvious?"

"No. Just to a couple of cops." He waved his bottle back at Danny.

"Mmm." She had turned her attention back to the game.

"Ya know, not the best idea. All things considered."

"I'll keep it under better control." She didn't look at him at all. Tigers scored again. She blinked hard twice.

"I could join ya. Keep ya out of trouble."

"I'm fine thanks."

"Ya sure?"

Her gaze flickered up. "Yea. I'm sure. Thanks." Don wandered back to the table.

"Crash and burn, buddy."

"Yea. Whatever." The game continued to its dismal end. One of the guys went to grab a mourning round and Don saw the blonde slipping out the front door. He got up and followed. He caught up with her just outside. "Hey! Tiger girl." She spun around her braid flying. Her brown eyes glared at him.

"What are you stupid or something? Trying to get me killed?" She turned and started back down the sidewalk. Don jogged up to her. He fell in step beside her.

"Sorry. It was just weird. And ya snuck out as soon as the game ended."

She flashed him an incredulous look. "Do you think it's really a good idea for me to be sitting in a bar full of disgruntled Yankees fans?"

"How'd ya get in a bar full of Yankee fans in the first place?"

"I was on my way home and wanted to catch the game. It was the first decent bar I came too."

"Ya live around here?"

She stopped. She looked up. "I live in New York. Yes. Listen..."

"Don. Don Flack."

"Listen, Don. I caught my game. My team won. Now, I want to get home and celebrate." She smiled. "In peace, safety and anonymity."

"Howabout I spot ya for a celebratory bite to eat?"

She smiled and shook her head. "You're cute and all that, Don. But, thanks, I'll pass. I'd really like just to get home. I've got papers to grade."

"Oh. Well, maybe I'll see ya here for the next game."

She smiled again, a little warmer this time. "Maybe. See ya around, Don Flack." She walked away, braid swinging. Don stood there watching her a bit. When she had rounded the corner, he realized he hadn't gotten her name.

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