alwaysroomforhope | (no subject)

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shatterverse

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"Troublemakers ... scarin' the life outta folks ... just getting your jollies, never think about the folk under you ... suppose you think that was fun... bloody teenagers..."

The desk sergeant looks angry and irritable, scowling at them and muttering as he pushes papers around.

"Wasting police time ... resources ... cells for a night's the least of what you deserve, your parents oughta have taught you better..."

Steph is still finding it nearly impossible not to giggle. Especially when she glances at Sokka beside her, streaked with gravel and hair spiky from the wind, and remembers the looks on the people's faces.

"You damn kids don't even know the trouble you're in," the sergeant grumps, standing up finally with a notepad. "All right, give me your names."

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Dinah gives Mr. Turner a sympathetic look. "Don't leave without making sure they give you the addresses of the soup kitchens," she says. "It'll be OK."

She doesn't even look at Steph and Sokka until she and Jack are back in the office, at which point she leans back against the door and laughs.

Jack narrows his eyes at her, ignoring the sounds of renewed laughter from the cells.

"Something funny that I missed, maybe?"

All these people keep laughing! IT IS NOT JACK'S DAY.

Dinah shakes her head.

"Sorry, no. Not funny. I'm really sorry those kids caused such a mess. Will you do me a massive favour?"

He runs his eyes up and down her, suspicious. Women like that don't ask favours of men like him.

On the other hand ... she's the Canary.

"Depends. What d'you need?"

"When they escape, can you not chase them? I'll pay for any structural damage they do, but it'll be much worse if you try to stop them.

"I promise they'll be punished for all the inconvenience."

Dinah may even stop Steph's training for at least a week.

The sergeant's craggy features take a while to register a frown.

"You know them?"

Dinah jerks a thumb back towards the cells.

"If they did give a parent's name and phone number, it'd be mine. The girl's family.

"She just didn't get the brains."

"Yeah, I'll say," Jack grumbles, and sighs. "When they break out, you said?"

Well, if she's related to the Canary, that'd probably be a reasonable call. He sighs again, gustily, and turns to stomp back to his desk.

"A'right. We'll invoice you for any damage, don't think we won't." He frowns at her. She can't get around him so easily. >(

Dinah follows him, and sits on his desk. OK, there aren't fishnets, but her jeans are very tight.

"And I'll arrange for the labour as well, I know how little money means nowadays."

:-D?

Weeeeeeeeeeell...

Jack grumps a second longer, and then sighs and gives in to the :D. The jeans are very tight.

"All right. I want to see those two bein' part of your workforce, mind. If they break things, I want them workin' to fix it."

:D!

"Crimfighters' honour," Dinah swears. "I'll make sure they come back. Thanks, Jack."

Jack just sighs, waving her out. "You're lucky you're pretty, Miss Canary."

Scowl. But! On the bright side! Less paperwork is always a good thing.

Back in the cells, Steph has recovered slightly.

"We are soooooo busted. Oops."

It's still hilarious.

"Did you get any bars out before they came in, or do I hafta lift you up again?"

"They're all off," Sokka informs her, grinning and laughing under his breath as he points up at the window. "It'll come off in one piece but I don't think I'll fit. I can lift you through, though. Then what?"

"I," Steph assures him confidently, "have a Plan."

You can practically hear the capital letters. How can this not be a good plan when it has capital letters?

"Gimme a boost?"

Because it is Steph using those capital letters.

But Sokka's in a good mood, which makes him both obliging and curious. Getting back to his feet, he eyes the window and laces his fingers together beneath it. "It's just one piece, it'll lift right off. It's not too heavy either."

Steph grins, hopping into his hands and going :D! at how easily he lifts her. She's not light, even though she's tiny; Steph's made of solid muscle.

"You," she informs him, when the latticework comes out easily in her hands, "are totally my hero."

It's not until she's scrambling out the window, laughing in the clear air on the other side, that she realises she might maybe have given away more than she meant to, when she dropped that impulsive kiss on the top of his head.

But ... she'd do that for anyone, right? He must have seen her kiss the babies. So that wouldn't have embarrassed him ... would it?

God, she hopes not.

"Focus, Steph," she mutters, giddily, and turns back to wave cheerfully through the window before skipping off in pursuit of her Important Plan.

It's too dark to notice the blush across Sokka's face, really, when she peers in through the window. Sokka waves back, smiling, and has to go sit down on the bench again.

Steph is always affectionate like that, with everyone. So it doesn't-- right. It doesn't.

There's quiet in the outer office for a while.

About as long as it would take for, say, an enterprising superhero girl to run across the road, snatch up a few items from the charity bin, and pull them on.

In the main office, the door creaks open, and someone who is obviously Very Old and Very Tired makes their creaky way across the floor. There's the voice of the grumpy sergeant, Jack:

"What can I do f--"

There's a pause.

Then a Very Old and Very Tired Voice says, Oldly and Tiredly, "Good evening, youngster. My name's Mrs, ah, Mrs Chu. I'm here for my son. Ah."

Dead silence continues for several seconds more.

Down the hall and around the corner, there is a snort! and then absolute silence.

As much as it can be absolutely silent while Sokka holds a hand clapped tight over his mouth.

"...Right." Jack sounds utterly long-suffering. "All right, Mrs Chu. Just come this way, please."

"Why, thank you, kind sir," Mrs Chu creaks out, and totally does not sound at all like she's giggling. "You're so lovely."

"It's not a problem." Funny how Jack sounds like he's gritting his teeth.

Also, sweet elderly ladies who look like they're dressed in carpets and rags and some really stunningly ugly sunglasses do not often get escorted with a hand twisted up behind their backs, or pushed gently but very firmly into a new cell -- a separate one, and one without a window. Or have doors shut quite so hard on their butts.

Sergeant Jack shoots Bill Turner down the way a venomous glare, Sokka a positively poisonous one, and "Mrs Chu" one that might flay the flesh from a lesser individual.

Lucky Mrs Chu is such a brave little soldier. Why, the poor old dear hardly looks upset at all at being treated this way by the police.

And her dear, dear son is being such a brat in a cell of his own, laughing at his poor, sweet mother.

A lot.

"I'm sure I don't know what's so funny," Mrs Chu says haughtily, her small, lightly freckled nose in the air. "Gawsh, kids these days. No respect."

"You can not possibly have thought that would work," the other prisoner says in disbelief, as the door swings shut behind the sergeant and the sound of a forehead meeting a desk firmly echoes back. "Are you mad?"

"Totally," Sokka agrees, still laughing. He brushes tears out of his eyes with the heel of his palm, still chuckling. "Oh jesu, that was great... you're a huge moron, but that was awesome."

"Hey, you should be nicer to me," Steph says, grinning proudly as she shrugs her way out of the rug and hat and wig.

And holds up the keys to the cells, twirling them around a finger and smirking.

"Who's mad now, smartasses?"

Bill stares at the keys, then her, then the keys again.

"How did you do that?"