OK, so I got something for the Quote Challenge that wasn't ungodly long...More Munch angst.
(Sorry, but he is very good at it, somewhere down deep.)
“Do you always deflect personal questions with jokes?”
Yeah, unless I get lucky, and can make jokes about *somebody else*. That is as close to Fat City as John Munch will get. Mostly I do my own shtick. Did you hear the one about the pervert who wound up working Sex Crimes?
Did you hear the one about the idiot who was so in love with a co-worker he couldn’t say anything for seven years, and still perks up when he sees a redhead on the street? There are many dyed redheads in Manhattan, and the biggest joke is, I’m learning to tell the difference. Ha fucking ha.
Cool. I heard him saying that, as I typed it.(Note to self: Don't open with that, with the social worker, unless you want to explore the wonderful world of Haldol.)
Martha Stewart L&O Fic...it's Cindy's fault. Part one
The uniform who first arrived on the scene said that what amazed him was the smell. Not the vic...the other one. Sort of piney, like Christmas. It was easily the sweetest smelling whodunnit in the Tri-state Area.
“I’ll be a son of a bitch,” Ed Green said, grabbing a danish.
“Do I even have to ask what that makes me?” Briscoe said. “On second thought don’t answer that.”
He was just starting to read the newspaper when the lieutenant caught his eye. “Don’t get too comfortable,” she said, giving them one of her looks, “I need you to run out to Connecticut and talk to a witness.”
“Why? Connecticut’s Finest jammed up behind a crooked polo match?” Lennie asked.
Everyone in the squad chuckled, but Lieutenant Van Buren wasn’t happy. And when she wasn’t happy, nobody was happy, no matter how Nobody’s horse did in the fourth at Aquaduct. Lennie made a face, but as they say in AA, no single moment is unendurable. Those are looking to be close, though.
"I need somebody who can handle something...delicate."
"Careful, Lieu, the last person who said that to me, I married."
"I'll risk it. But you still need to go see Martha Stewart.
"I must be getting deaf. Did you say Martha Stewart? The cookbook lady?"
"Did I stutter? Yep, that's the one."
"Too bad, Briscoe. You're gonna have to change your socks." his partner kidded.
"Yeah. She's a VIP. I'll go nuts and change both of 'em. But what the hell...excuse me, Van Buren, am I gonna talk to her about? Do hot dogs count as cuisine?"
"You'll have time to figure that out on the way to Westport." the lieutenant said.
"Overtime," Green said. "It's a Good Thing."
Part 2 of L&O meets Martha Stewart
Lennie was quiet on the drive, even more so as the streets get wider and more tree-lined. “Briscoe,” Green said. “Do you ever think you’d be different if you grew up here?”
“Sure, “ Lennie deadpanned. “I’d pass out with my pinkie in the air and an imported lampshade on my head.”
“You’re awfully class-conscious, you know that?”
“Get a load of Colin Powell over here.” Lennie took a drink of his coffee.” See, Ed, when you’ve been on the Job as long as me, you’ll learn we all put our pants on one leg at a time. Only the scenery changes.”
“That’s kind of cynical.”
“Gee, and people confuse me with the Tooth Fairy all the time. As my daughter says “Don’t be such a buzzkill.”
“Lennie, I thought you and your daughter were...you know, estranged.”
Briscoe smirked, but the squad car was starting to feel smaller than usual. Maybe the domestic diva could make another one out of pop cans.
“That’s where you’re wrong. With careful and patient effort, we’ve worked our way up to friendly indifference...eh, it’s not too bad. I used to think she’d cheer my honor guard.”
“Tough break,” Green looked at the map. “Is it a Circle or a Terrace we want?”
“Circle, dahling. Having an old Jew show up on her doorstep, she’ll think it’s April 15th.”
A nice big chunk of Nessuno. Alexander, Guglielmo and Giancarlo continue their trip to the Papal palace after being waylaid in the street
Alexander had recovered his composure by the time they reached St. Peter's Square. At least, he looked like he had. Inside he still heard the gasps of dying men and the sound of bodies falling to the ground. And Guglielmo said that was his job, to have people trying to kill him. Alexander knew he lived a sheltered life within the precincts of the church, but he hadn't realized just how isolated he was.
The sun was casting long shadows off the dome of the old church. The Basilica was over a thousand years old, but talk had being going around for years now on how best to renovate the venerable structure. Maestro Bramante doodled plans for grand domes and great pillars on stray bits of parchment while muttering things about da Vinci and Michelangelo. As he led his companions through the twisting corridors, Alexander fretted about the Maestro's reaction to his being absent from classes, whether he was off on legitimate business or not.
Giancarlo nudged Guglielmo. "By the way, where are we going?"
"Cesare Borgia wants to talk to me about something."
"Do you know what His Eminence wants?"
"Oh, he's not a Cardinal any longer. He's renounced the cloth and is gathering more earthly power."
"Can he do that?"
Guglielmo smiled. "His father's the Pope. He can do what he wants."
Cesare Borgia's chambers were in the newest portion of the Vatican complex, several corridors away from the Papal apartments, though rumors spoke of secret passages that allowed rapid communication between father and son. Two fully armed members of the Papal Guard stood outside the door. Alexander swallowed hard in order to speak.
"I've brought Maestro Guglielmo il Sanguinante to see His Excellency."
The right-hand guard gave him a contemptuous look as the left-hand man considered the mercenaries.
"That is not Guglielmo il Sanguinante," he said, nodding at Giancarlo.
Guglielmo sighed in perfect boredom. "His Excellency is waiting to see me. Perhaps you could leave it to him to decide who he wants admitted to his presence. If we're intruding, maybe he'll let you two take care of punishing us. Or we can just leave, I can go do what I was going to do this evening, and when he asks why I didn't show up for this meeting, I'll tell him that his two guards wouldn't let me in." He shrugged and turned to go.
"You can't do that!" Alexander protested. "His Excellency is waiting for you!"
Guglielmo shrugged. "If I can't get in, I can't get in. Don't worry, brother, you did your part. It's not your fault His Excellency's guards are so zealous in their work." He smiled at the fidgeting guards. "His Excellency will know the appropriate rewards."
The two guards looked at each other anxiously, then at Giancarlo. The one shrugged at the other, who nodded.
"Your pardon, Maestro," the first one said. "Of course you would have an attendant." He looked at Alexander. "Take them in."
Alexander hesitated. "I was just told to bring Maestro Guglielmo. I've brought him." He did not want to come any more to the attention of Cesare Borgia. Far, far better to remain an anonymous messenger boy.
The guards were out of patience. "Take them in, boy. You're expected."
Guglielmo tapped Alexander's shoulder. "Yes, brother, let's go. It seems *we* are expected."
Alexander gave him a confused look. The mercenary's face was bare of expression except for the typical mocking smile. The hand was heavy on his shoulder, and Alexander sighed in resignation. The second guard opened the door behind him, and there were no more options.
The room beyond was gloomy, lit only by a candelabra on a side table and the small lamp hanging over the altar at the east end of the room. The smells of rich food and incense hung in the air.
Guglielmo took his hand off Alexander's shoulder and walked cautiously into the room. Giancarlo stayed by the door. Alexander, unsure of what he was supposed to do now, stayed close to Giancarlo.
At the far end of the room, another lamp was slowly turned up. Behind the desk, the elegantly garbed Cesare Borgia considered the arrivals. He was only a few years older than Alexander, but his reputation was that of a much older man. As he leaned back in his chair, he ran a finger along the dark narrow beard that edged his jaw.
Guglielmo immediately bowed, but he kept his eyes on his host.
"Thank you for coming, Maestro Guglielmo," Cesare said in a faintly bored voice. He glanced at Giancarlo but said nothing on that matter.
"Your Excellency is to--" Guglielmo jerked his head towards a shadowed corner of the room. His left hand twitched.
"I asked His Eminence to join us," Cesare said in the same flat tone.
Out of the shadows stepped the elderly Cardinal Fortezzi. "God bless you, my son." He held out his right hand with a benevolent smile. Guglielmo didn't hesitate to go to him to kneel and kiss the Cardinal's ring.
Alexander hesitated, but when Giancarlo didn't move he stayed still as well.
Guglielmo rose and backed away just slow enough to still look normal. "How may I be of service, Your Excellency?" he asked Cesare.
