"I look ridiculous," Olivia murmured, glowering at her reflection in the hotel room's full length mirror. She had squeezed into a black dress with a plunging neckline and a riding hem, and the stiletto heels on her feet were killing her. She wished desperately for a pair of slacks, a button down, and flat, practical shoes.

"You look great," came a voice behind her. "That dress really works."

Olivia turned around quickly. Having seen her partner approach her as she looked in the mirror, she knew who it was. "I don't look great," she snapped. "I look absolutely freaking horrible. This dress is riding up, and these shoes are making me feel tipsy and unbalanced because I don't know how to walk in the damn things." She turned back to her reflection, sighing deeply. How Casey wore stuff like this every day, all day long, and never ended up sore, or with a broken ankle, was beyond her.

"We need to go," Nick answered, glancing at the clock on the wall. "It's getting late."

"I know," Olivia sighed. She grabbed her purse and stood in front of her partner, whose appearance consisted of a black suit, white shirt, and matching shoes and a tie. Not that different from his every day appearance. "At least one of us doesn't have to humiliate ourselves," she growled, stalking past him, which was made rather difficult thanks to her footwear.

An hour later, she folded her arms across her chest, watching what had to be the two hundredth couple walk into the bar. She had been requested as assistant bouncer, while Nick was people watching inside. Olivia, still feeling ridiculous in her current clothing, was getting even more frustrated with the frigid weather, the stench of alcohol and stale cigarettes, and the uproarious laughter from people inside the club and out. She tried not to read too much into the fact that she had been placed on bouncer duty, but it was a bit disconcerting.

"Excuse me," Olivia called out suddenly as a young blonde breezed past her. She blocked the girls path, knowing that she couldn't be older than seventeen. "Can I see some ID please?" she requested. She sighed as the girl tried to move around her, and again she blocked her path. "Sweetie, if you don't have any ID, I can't let you in," Olivia said.

"It's in here somewhere," the girl answered, rummaging around in her purse as if there were something at the bottom that she was trying to retrieve. After several moments, she took out what appeared to be a normal driver's license and handed it to Olivia.

Olivia took it, examining it closely. Everything seemed to be a normal California license, from the picture to the way the information was presented. But the ID number was in a completely different format. And the age was definitely fake. Olivia looked up. "You realize this says you are thirty six," she said, her tone harsher than she meant it to be.

"It's not polite to ask a lady her age," the girl cried, clearly hoping that would somehow convince Olivia to let her in.

"And it's illegal to drink if you're under twenty one," Olivia said, pocketing the driver's license. "What's your name?"

The girl sighed, realizing there was no way out of this. "My name is Jaime."

"Jaime, I'm going to take you home. On the way, I want you to tell me what is going on, okay?" As Jaime nodded, Olivia lied to the other bouncer and told him she was going to go pick up some dinner. She was lucky, in that he had been focused on keeping one eye on the club and another on the street, and therefore hadn't heard a word she had said. She knew it would be detrimental to her cover if she announced she was taking an underage girl home, since bouncers normally threw someone out with no questions asked, not bothering to care what happened to them afterward.

Once in her rental car, Olivia had Jaime write down her address, and she typed the information into her phone's GPS. As she shifted the car into drive, Olivia asked Jaime to buckle her seat belt and said "So how old are you really, Jaime?"

"Sixteen," Jaime answered, looking out the window. "I'm sorry."

Olivia adjusted the rear view mirror and sighed deeply. "What were you thinking, coming to a bar? There are bad people out there, Jaime, men who get drunk and will take control and try to take advantage of you. You can't go to bars, especially not at this time of night. And even being in possession of a fake ID is a crime. You can go to jail for that."

"Are you going to turn me in?" Jaime asked, her voice full of worry and fear.

Olivia sighed, biting her bottom lip as she stopped at the red light. "No, Jaime, I'm not going to turn you in this time. Consider this your get out of jail free card, your first and only warning. But I do want to know one thing. How did you get the fake license in the first place?" she asked.

"I met this guy at my mother's restaurant," Jaime answered, beginning a story that lasted the next several minutes. "He was sexy and smart. He listened to me and talked to me like I was an adult, which is something I never get. He was so friendly, and he asked me out. He said I could be his girl, if I wanted, and that since I liked to dance, he could get me into his club. And I thought it sounded really cool, because how awesome would it be to go to school and show my ex boyfriend pictures of me on a pole? He'd be so jealous..." Jaime trailed off, sighing. "I agreed, and then he made me the fake license and told me to come on Friday night. I was super excited for it."

Olivia fought the urge to lecture the young girl about the dangers of sleeping with older men. "Jaime, did you sleep with this man?"

"I'm sixteen. It's not illegal," Jaime argued, suddenly sounding extremely defensive.

"No, it's not," Olivia conceded, remembering that California's age of consent was sixteen, an entire year younger than New York's. She pulled up in front of a white mansion and sighed, ignoring the cliché. It was very typical for a rich girl to seek affection elsewhere. Olivia turned around. "Jaime, promise me you'll protect yourself."

"Okay," Jaime answered, nodding. "But why do you care so much?"

Olivia sighed, quickly deciding it was safe to tell her. "Because it's my job to protect people like you. I'm a cop. Just promise me you'll be safe, alright?"

"I promise," Jaime said, smiling. "Thanks, Officer."

"Call me Olivia," Olivia answered, smiling brightly.