Ella couldn't help but groan again as she realized her error. She looked apologetically at the waitress. "Can you hold that for me? I made a booboo," she said, and felt the need to clarify when the waiter looked at her in confusion. "Uh, my wallet is underneath my uniform."

As he smirked at her, she could almost hear Lucifer saying, "Well done, Miss Lopez!"

"It's okay, I'll take care of it," a fellow female cop walked past and paid him double the cost of her order. "And the same for me, please."

"Yes, ma'am."

The cop turned around, and Ella was heartened to see Chen on her uniform. "Step back, please? Waiting's over here."

Ella stepped back, joining Chen in a place that was near the counter and also out of the way. "Um... So I'm the new...accidental rookie," she blushed, "And I just hitched a ride with Nolan, and he suggested I speak to you about...what it's like, being...what's-his-name, Bradley's Boot."

Chen tilted her head, trying not to smile and failing. "Um, working with Bradford," she corrected, making Ella blush again, "Can be very unnerving. But I think it's also the most rewarding. I mean, if he were easy to please, then nothing would feel like an accomplishment."

Ella stared at her, then grinned. "That's friggin awesome. I love that," she said, and went in for a hug.

"I'm glad I could help," Chen said, when they parted.

"Maybe Bradford needs a hug."

The smile dropped off Chen's face. "Oh, no-no-no-no-no, you do not want to try that. He will roar at you like a swamp monster on meth."

"Got it, thanks," Ella laughed.

"Your wraps, Officers."

They turned back to the counter and retrieved their orders, looked at the limited seating, and then looked awkwardly at each other.

"Share a table?" Chen asked.

"Posi-lutely."

Chen gave her a weird look, but at least she was amused. They went to a table and sat down.

"I have to ask. Did Bradshaw ever kick you out of the car?"

Again, that head tilt, as Chen very politely corrected her. "Yes. Bradford has kicked me out of the shop."

"Ugh, balls. I'm never going to get it."

"You'll get it."

"I'd get it a lot faster if he actually coached me on this stuff. When he kicked me out of the car, he told me to get started on the paperwork on his desk." She paused, hysterically adding, "What desk? Where's the desk? And what am I supposed to do with the papers? He's being such a hardass; it's almost like he's―"

"Testing you?"

Ella slowly put down her hands, gazing at her and trying, unsuccessfully, to quell all the voices. This time they were all telling her to quit; that all she had to accept was her failure.

"Alright, after we eat I'll take you to the other Lopez. If she had the time to bring you her uniform, it means she's having a slow day. She can help you. But, listen to me. As Bradford's fiancée," Ella gawked even harder, "I guess I know him pretty well... Pains me to say it, but the paperwork thing might be a test, too."

"How? How is everything a test? And why?"

"Well, I mean, he is trying to help you become accomplished. You can't win a horse race without learning how to ride. Hey, look, the important thing to remember is that we've all been there. When Tim joined the LAPD, he was told to call it a shop just like you. Just like me, and everyone else."

"Did he ever call it a car?"

"Uh, no―but others have," Chen offered, which seemed to help, albeit barely. "If you want to get in his good graces, he likes the blueberry muffins."

"Great! Thanks for the tip, I'll...buy him a basket or two."

Chen's laughter rang through the restaurant.

"Hey, Angela? You're having a slow day, right?" Chen asked, as The Other Lopez glanced up at her.

"The slowest. Turns out when nobody's up to no good, it's a real snooze-fest in here. Hey, Young Blood," she acknowledged Ella.

"Hi."

"Yes, Young Blood here needs some help finding Tim's desk and dealing with a stack of paperwork that may or may not exist, and I have to go now, so... Bye, Lopezes," she added, as she left.

"You're a lifesaver," Angela grumped, "Nobody's interesting anymore."

"You're hoping for crime?"

"I don't want to get a headache from staring at my screen all day for nothing."

Ella grinned as Angela stood up, surveying the plastic-wrapped muffin in her hand. "Uh-oh," she commented succinctly.

"What?"

"Of all people, you're going to manipulate Bradford? That's a train wreck waiting to happen; did that half-wit Smitty tell you to do that?"

"No...Chen told me to do that."

"Chen is marrying him. She's allowed to bribe him, that's how marriage works. Follow me," she added, "And you can put that bad idea on his desk."

Ella followed, thinking so far the job was just a game of Simon Says. This Lopez was right, it was boring!

"He's right over here," Angela suddenly said, gearing towards a desk that had paperwork on it. Lots and lots of paperwork. "Boy wasn't kidding. Leave the muffin, get to whatever else he told you, and I'll take care of all this. Just tell him you did it."

"Ho-ly bananas! You serious?"

Angela scoffed, "I get paid. What else did he tell you to do?"

"The urinals."

"On second thought, maybe you should stay and observe! Practice for when I'm not here."

"You're a lifesaver," Ella parroted, and sat down to observe.

But paperwork didn't last long when a pro was doing it, and much sooner than she preferred―as in, within her lifetime―Ella found herself explaining to a confused man, "Yes, I know this is the men's room. Bradford told me to clean the urinals. I know, talk about the call of doodie, right? So not what I wanted to be doing on my first day. Or any day, really. Point is, I'm carrying out an order, and there's no shame in that."

He gave her a "Whatever" look and went to a urinal, reaching for his zipper.

"Oh, not in front of me!" she snapped, and he retreated into a stall.

"Still gonna have to hear it," he said, isolating himself inside.

Ella stammered nonsense to the porcelain before reluctantly beginning to sing "Qué Se Siente" and focusing on getting every inch of the urinal the perfect shade of white, instead of the weird looks people were giving her as they walked past the open door. She stopped when she heard the flush, and looked over her shoulder as the man came out of the stall. "Dude. Seriously? You don't mind if the whole precinct sees it?"

"We'd need a microscope," Smitty said, as he walked past the door.

Ella tilted her head back and sighed, listing all the motives for murder in her head as the man quietly began to wash. "My career does not define me, it's just a way to pay the bills," she muttered, and continued to scrub the urinal. "My career does not define me, it's just a way to pay the bills. Who the hell is that guy?" she asked to the man she had just yelled at.

"Smitty. Shitty Smitty. Guy's such a dick, you could see it from space."

Ella shook her head, turning back to the urinal. "My career does not define me, it's just a way to pay the bills."

The man left, muttering, "Sorry, Sergeant," as he went; a very careful breath through the mouth later, Bradford poked his head in.

"Hey, Boot―" His words bumbled to a halt when Ella gagged over the urinal.

"Oh, God, I tasted it!" she shrieked, and her proud stature suddenly drooped. Then she stood, taking off the gloves with rough hands. "Nope! You know what? I'm done. I did not spend $4,000 to take forty courses for five years of my life to taste a drain as if I licked it. There are other, better, less degrading ways to pay my stupid bills. So you can take your―"

"Boot," he interrupted. "Tread carefully. You're already on thin ice with the trick you pulled with my papers."

"The what? What did I pull?"

"I'm not exactly sure, but no rookie should've been able to finish the paperwork that fast. Test number one."

"Yeah," Chen snorted, "Only a gajillion more to..." She hushed when she passed by the doorway and realized Ella was there. She ducked her head and hurried on her way.

"Listen, I shouldn't have made you do this," Bradford said, motioning to the urinals. "I mean, they get cleaned every night."

Ella slam-dunked the gloves into the basket. "Well, it doesn't smell like it to me!"

"Okay. Question now is, would you rather fill out a resumé, or shoot a gun?"

"Well, you're just full of questions."

"Can't get answers without 'em," he said simply, and gave her an inquisitive look. "Which one would you rather do?"

"Oh, the gun, definitely shoot the gun. I'm just... Home on the range," she began to sing.

"Stop it," he said, and she hushed. "Well, come on, then; it's just downstairs."

"Why do you think we say 'shoot the gun'?" she asked, following him out. "I mean, I'm using it to shoot. If I shot a gun, wouldn't it explode?"

His frustrated sigh floated back to her. "You talk a lot, Officer Lopez."

"Yeah, and you made me walk; we all have our...quirks."

"I made you walk because you don't shout at your sergeant. Say what you want, but negative reinforcement is a proven method."

"Oh, I know. My abuelita used to literally kick my ass. Literally, with her heels on!"

Bradford opened the door, looking at her. "My condolences. Wait, doesn't―doesn't that mean grandmother?"

"Yeah! Little old lady, kicking around a child. You know what would happen in today's world?"

"Yeah, cops would get called, cops would call CPS, kid would get taken away."

"Meanwhile the story would blow up the media."

"Hold the door," he said abruptly, and she complied quickly, without question.

"Wait, why am I―"

He let go of it, and she stumbled back at the sheer weight. "Qué demonios!"

"Next time I hold the door for you, don't wait."

"Yes, sir." She turned around to see him already halfway down the stairs.

"Come on, Boot!" he called, and his voice echoed slightly.

She descended after him. "Coming, coming."

He reached the bottom, where he waited for her.

"You're going to give me a bad assessment, aren't you?"

"My assessment never stops. I write about my experiences with my rookie every night. Relationships evolve... So does my opinion," he said, as they walked to the row of targets. "Right now you're a jabber-jaws with no upper body strength. If you want the truth, you're kind of a liability. But who knows? Maybe you'll evolve."

He handed her a gun. "If you're so good with a gun...shoot the target in the leg. Between the foot and the knee."

She had one free hand, so he helped her work a pair of goggles around her ponytail, with a surprisingly gentle touch. Feeling something incredible, she tried to remember that he was married. To a very nice girl―and he was a sergeant. Probably out of bounds even if he had been single; there were rules for that sort of thing, weren't there? It was probably totally taboo...and, if all that wasn't an issue, he still probably wouldn't go for her. Quelling the urge to hug him or flirt with him, she turned to the target, raised her gun, and fired a single shot. Bam, between the foot and the knee.

"Give him a brain bleed."

She fired a single shot into the target's forehead.

"Good. Now give me four shots in a row to the stomach."

She effortlessly complied.

"Hot damn," Bradford muttered. "That's beautiful."

"So, does this mean you won't write me a ticket?"

"No... But I won't kick you out of the shop again. Never thought a weak, loud girl could be an asset."

"Well, some people are full of shit, some people are full of questions, and some people are full of surprises."

He gave a short, quiet chuckle. "Feel like going for a ride?"

"Sure. Hey, can I drive?"

"No. Only way to earn that privilege is by lasting the year. You got good aim, but you're no exception."

"Yes, sir," she echoed, and followed him from the targets. As she went, she realized she had faith in another thing. Her T.O. might be rough around the edges, but so had been almost everybody back at her old station. They hadn't really included her in the whole Lucifer deal, but she still meant enough to them that they apologized and seemed to genuinely feel bad, and, best of all, they continued to include her in their lives. Why? Because she had weaseled her way into their lives and made them love her. And if she could do it with someone as prickly as Lucifer, she could do it again.

She just really, really needed to work with the living for a change, and to meet new people. And she was adaptable; why should she fit only one mold her whole life? Really, how cool would it be if she could find her place in life twice? How many people got to do that?

She wanted to become an accomplishment. She wanted people to know her name, and respect it. So she would try to last the year, and beyond; to earn that privilege, among others. Chen and Nolan seemed like good friend material, and they seemed to think Bradford was, too. She had done harder things than befriend someone nice; it would be a snap for her. And maybe, one day, she could even belong...