"So, what you're saying is that working alongside people with special skills, mutants in this case, you can gain insight into things you may not have considered before. Kind of like hiring a magician to give you insights into the world of stage magic, if a case calls for that sort of thing... And those skills aren't entirely useless, when push comes to shove," the lieutenant asked skeptically. She was five-nothing, with blond hair that was short in the back, but a bit longer around her bangs and eyes. Her ears were pierced, and she wore the bare minimum of makeup she could get away with, to look professional, without coming off too 'girly'. Her suit made her look like a business-woman, except in comfortable dress shoes. Her arms were crossed, but she was listening. So were the other cops in the room. A black man with salt and pepper hair held his chin. A red-headed kid with freckles looked like he thought the whole thing was a load of crap.

"Yeah, Lieutenant Murphey. That's basically the idea. Kind of like hiring a specialist, except in this case, they're full-fledged officers who can help you on cases, and respond to things the regular police might have a harder time responding to. Anything to add, Archer?" Ashton looked his partner's way.

They were talking to a group of Chicago police officers about MRC, to get the idea out there. After what had recently happened in New York, fostering good faith and helping other departments understand things had been a good idea. The last thing the NPYD wanted was to make people think they were anti-mutant, when they had an entire fricken mutant-related crimes division to handle things other cops might not want to touch with a ten foot pole.

Quin was actually frowning the whole time that Ashton was talking. She was frowning at the ginger kid who looked like they were force feeding manure down his throat. There were others who felt the same way, and it made this hard to do.
The woman in charge seemed open to the idea, though, and Quin had to respect that. When Ashton put her on the spotlight, she uncrossed her arms.

"In New York, people wait for years to get a spot on MRC. We have all the same requirements and internships that all other officers go through."

"What about the X-Men?"

Quin smirked at the redhead, she couldn't help herself. "Well. There's always an exception to the rule. Isn't there?"

"But when you've got resources in your back pocket that can give you an advantage in situations that are dangerous for you and the public, you use them."

The redhead opened his mouth to speak, but was quelled by a look from his Lieutenant. Quin grinned. Progress was tough, but it was progress.

In the back, a detective in a heavy leather duster stretched an arm behind his back and yawned. He'd been sitting with a leg propped up on a chair, listening. Now, he'd decided to be a part of the conversation. "I think it sounds great," He drawled. "Someone smart once told me, 'Never take part in a fair fight. They're too easy to lose."

"Sounds about right," Ashton agreed. "It's really cut down on our officer casualties."

The blond lieutenant nodded, holding her chin. "It sounds like it would. Less people out of their element."

"And way fewer people trying to take the law into their own hands." Quin said, eyeing the guy in the back of the room. They sure had weird ideas about what was business casual in Chicago.

"You've got to be kidding me?!" the redhead burst out, ignoring the look from his Lieutenant. "You've got the X-Men running around like they own the place, how can you say you're helping?"

"Whatever else they may be, the X-Men are well trained and we've been working closely with them to make sure they stay out of the way." Quin wondered if she sounded as choked as she felt as she said the words.

"Still. I don't see how having an entire division set aside for mutants is going to help the problem."

Quin sighed, wondering how they'd handle things in Chicago if one officer punched another in the face. She looked to Ashton, face making it clear that she was out of patience.

He nodded at his partner's points, giving her the silent support she needed. The redheaded stepchild was starting to get on his nerves. It was good for him to understand that no, in fact, they weren't kidding. And yes, they knew what they were doing just fine. Quin looked his way. It seemed the silent approval was at an end. Now, it was time for action. He opened his mouth to talk... but was cut short by the lieutenant.

"I get you," She said. "It's like the SWAT team. It isn't that beat cops can't handle a dangerous mutant criminal... but why would you put them in harms way, if he were a major threat, and you had some people better equipped to handle the threat. Snoopy, would you want to handle a guy with a submachine-gun, with no body armor or riot shield?"

"Riot shield might not handle an smg," he mumbled towards the floor, then promptly shut up at her look of reproach.

"Yeah," Ashton said, to the blond. "That's the general idea. And we aren't saying you have to do it exactly like how we do, follow our example. We're just giving you an idea of how we do it. What other police forces are doing."

These guys had a chance, Quin decided a while later as the Lieutenant called the meeting. Things had been a little intense there for a few minutes, but Murphey'd had things in check and once the ball had been shoved in the right direction, they were able to get some good information across.

The redhead was going to be a skeptic, and there was nothing that they were going to be able to do about that. He'd have to learn from example, or not learn at all. It was his call from here, because the rest of the Department was on board.

"What now?" Quin said, looking over at Ashton as she packed up her business bag. "Our flight doesn't even leave until like 1 tomorrow." Glancing over to where the Lieutenant had gone, Quin found her with her arms crossed, having a heated discussion with the guy in the duster.

"They don't seem like they're much of a happy hour crew."

What Quin didn't see was the times when they were a happy hour crew. At least, Murphey and Drodsen, that was. But she didn't need to know that. His jacket tugged at his shoulder as he pulled it on. "Guess we can kill time. Check out Wrigley Field? Do some sight-seeing? Eat a hot dog? Get some Chicago-style pizza? Get a beer?" Too many options. He was just throwing them out there.

They hadn't eaten since noon, and it was 4-O-clock, now. "Food might be an idea. Here," Jacket on, he got the door for her. Held it open.

It would be kind of nice to have some free time.

Sight-seeing?
"I could do without Wrigley Field...but I could definitely go for some deep dish and a beer."

What Quin hadn't said was that despite the fact that they were hippies, her parents had loved Chicago when she was growing up.

"I think I know a good place. It's the kind of pizza you have to scoop out of the dish and eat with a fork."

She grinned as she walked through the door, "We won't even tell Mike when we get back." she hmmm'd as they walked though, "Can we change first though...I'm so tired of suits I could scream."

Quin knew a place. "Sounds amazing," Ashton smiled.

They wouldn't tell Mike. Nope. Not at all. "Mhm," He agreed. "We can change into something more comfortable. And at the pizza place, maybe get some cold ale?" Mike would throw a fit. Though you'd hardly be able to tell, save for the grimace.

Where was the nearest place to change? Bathroom? Hotel room? Not car. He glanced around.

Ashton was up to changing, and Quin was relieved, she was tired of looking like a cop. Only...he was looking around like...

"What are you looking for, a phone booth?" she asked with a laugh. "All my stuff is at the hotel." They'd had just enough time to check in, before heading to the station, and Quin hadn't thought to bring a change of clothes.

So, they went.

The hotel was nice, but functional. The kind of place that wouldn't break the station but wouldn't make them look cheap either. They'd even sprung for two rooms....adjoining.

"Lobby in 20." Quin said as she slid the keycard in and out of its slot.

Yes, he had definitely been planning to change into his blue pajamas in a phone booth. That would be comfortable. He laughed. "Just testing you," he said. "You passed." Off, they went.

Lobby in 20. "Gotcha," He said, sliding his in and out in perfect synchronization with her. It was almost like they'd choreographed it. Into his room, he went.

It didn't take him long to get dressed. He opted for a nice pair of blue jeans, a black leather belt, a navy blue polo, and his black jacket. It tied the whole look together. He stepped out of his room, into the hallway, showered up and trimmed 15 minutes later.

Simple was the order of the night. They were just going out for pizza, and there was nobody to impress. The pants suit was exchanged for a jean skirt and a red tank top. A little belt, a little jacket in case the restaurant was chilly, and Quin's outfit was ready to go. She let her hair down, brushed it out, checked her makeup, then pulled on her boots and headed for the lobby.

Ashton was already there.

"You know. I read an article once, that it can be just as bad to be too early as it is to be too late." she teased, not stopping to wait for him. Had he even changed? Oh yeah...those were jeans. Out the doors she went, glancing over her shoulder.

"Let's go, we want to beat the rest of the dinner crowd."

>>"You know. I read an article once, that it can be just as bad to be too early as it is to be too late."

Following after her, he chuckled. "I was five minutes early. You look nice, by the way." Darn fast-walking lady. He caught up, passed her, and started walking backwards ahead of her. Keys jangled in front her face. "Where are we headed? The moon?"

Did she want to drive, or give directions? And if she'd just teased him about being too early, her hurry to the car if he was driving was poorly thought out~

"A little place called Giordano's." Quin said as Ashton rushed ahead of her and turned around. She had to slow her step, and she couldn't help but grin.

"There's like a hundred of them, just in town." she pointed out, exaggerating slightly since it was more like forty.

Reaching out, she patted her partner's belly. "I hope you brought your appetite. This isn't like the wimpy Brooklyn Style pizza we have to eat at home. I'll be shocked if you can put down more than a piece."

"Yeah. You know," He caught her hand with a smirk, then set it free. "I think I left my appetite at home. It's a good thing I'll have you to help. Wouldn't want them pointing and laughing at the wimp who couldn't down a couple of slices of their pizza."

Banter, people. It was good.

As they laughed and teased, they made their way into the lot, and to the rental.