First day jitters were, well…first day jitters. Quin couldn’t stop the rolling in her stomach that came along with the first day of an internship. Sure, she’d been working in New York for a couple of years now, and there was nothing new about the police station. It was the job…it was the culmination of all those hours of paperwork…all those hours stuck in a stuffy patrol car, all those hours of traffic duty. She’d done it all, she’d done it all with a smile on her face, and she’d done it well.

It had paid off.

With all the recommendations she’d gotten, Quincy Archer had pretty much had her choice of internships for working towards her shield. She hadn’t needed the choices, though, she’d had her heart set on a particular one from the beginning. All of her friends on the beat had known what she’d choose, she’d done pretty much nothing but talk about it when she’d had one too many after hours beers.

MRC. Sure, it was pronounced mercy, but Quin had seen the Detectives there operate, and nobody made fun of them anymore. Was it coincidence that so many mutants ended up there? Probably not, but Quin didn’t care, this was what the college had been for, this was what the work had been for. This was the real deal, her first day.

The night before on the phone, Quin’s mom had read her horoscope and played with the tarot cards. All indications were that she’d be just fine as long as she kept her mouth shut. One of the planets was in a negative aspect…voicing her opinion to the right person would be valuable…but slipping up could do serious damage. Somehow that hadn’t made the butterflies any less…fluttery. That’s because Mercury was in an abrasive 45 degree contact with its higher octave boost. Mom had told her that too. The redhead sighed…stupid planets and their stupid alignments.

It felt strange to be out of her beat clothes, and she knew she’d be wearing them some days even though she was working towards being a detective. Slacks and a jacket seemed foreign, and Quin found herself fidgeting as she let herself into MRC. It was a flurry of activity and she grinned at all the Detectives at their desks, that would be her eventually. There were case boards and posters, envelopes and paper trails. It felt like home. Suddenly, Mercury didn’t seem so potent.

Approaching the desk, Quin smiled at the secretary, she was famous for her high pitched voice.

“Hello.” she said brightly. ”I’m Quin Archer. I’m here for the first day of my internship.”

The phone rang…and the woman ignored her, holding up a finger. It was a busy day in MRC, newbies could wait.

Having hands was great. What could you do with hands? Hold things. Like coffee, or file folders, or-- Hell-oh. Ashton spied a newbie. Down the hallway, by the front desk. New.

He straightened up in his chair, smoothed his tie, and set down his coffee, with a parting sip. Final good byes said, he rose, and made his way to the newbie.

You can practically smell it on a new officer. The ripe, freshness of being green. Ashton didn't need to be told the woman was new. She was talking to Cynthia, and wasn't getting a response. She reeked of freshness, lower rungs of the pecking order... and maybe shampoo. He couldn't tell yet, on the last one. It was kind of against work policies. This one was a cutie, with red hair and a smile that might not last long in the world of MRC. It'd be hard to keep on task. However would he manage? Best he could do was show her a bit of mercy, and show the pretty little lady around.

Ashton approached from her rear. He stopped, by a cubicle wall behind her. He didn't lean on it casually. He stood professionally, tie straight, out-of-place smile on-face. "New here?" He interrupted the ignoring. "Detective Drake." Ashton extended a hand. "You can call me Detective Drake. Friends call me Ashton."

Cynthia glanced up to eye him. Oh boy. Another woman had struck his fancy. Poor thing.

A voice from behind. Quin turned slowly, reaching up to tuck a non-existent strand of hair behind her ear. It was half-up, but the subconscious gesture gave her something to fiddle with while she checked out who was talking to her.

He was tall, and very good-looking, and Quin rose an eyebrow as he introduced himself. She didn’t miss the emphasis he put on his title. She’d worked with this type before. He wanted her to be impressed, so she smiled and nodded.

”Around here? Yeah. I’m new.” she said in response to his first question.

”New to the NYPD? No.”

”It’s nice to meet you Detective Drake.” she said, shaking his hand with a just slightly insincere, but still good-natured smile playing around her mouth.

”Are you in the business of showing newbies the ropes?”

"New to it, yeah." He teased right back.

Cute.

"I think I could manage to sleuth my way through it." He released his grip. "Training to be a detective, huh? How long have you been on the force?" He glanced to Cynthia, who quickly lowered her currently-rolling eyes back to her paperwork. "What are your orders for today?"

”A little over two years.” she said, hugging the notebook in her hands to her chest as she spoke to the the good Detective. Cynthia was on the phone again, so Quin couldn’t imagine her minding much.

”I got my recommendations and started putting in transfer applications as soon as my probationary period was over.” It had worked out well, she wasn’t bragging about how well, but a note of pride could probably be detected in her voice.

He wanted to know her orders, so Quin turned to look back at Cynthia. ”I’m supposed to report to her and find out what I’m doing for my first day on the job.”

Cynthia shook her head and turned, grabbing a folder off a nearby file cabinet and flipping through its contents. An inexplicable groan escaped her as she read and she looked up, not at Quin, but at Detective Drake.

“Coincidentally, you’re showing her the ropes.” The secretary said.

“Please try to behave yourself?”

So, she wasn't a probie. Still a rookie here, though.

"Very nice," He nodded casually. Even if not the world's best, some experience was better than no experience. He didn't usually stroke rookie egos. The key word was 'usually'.

Back to Cynthia, attention went. Cynthia glared up over the edges of her horn-rimmed glasses at him as she delivered her message. Ashton didn't flinch at her comment.

"In that case," He said coolly, turning to officer Archer. "What would you like to see first?"

Hmm. Even the secretary was telling Detective Drake to behave himself. Quin filed the information away. She’d have to keep an eye on this one, and honestly…there were worse things to keep an eye on. She smiled when he asked her what she wanted to see first, and shrugged her shoulders. This was his horse and pony show, she was just here to learn the ropes.

” You’re the boss, boss. What do I need to know?”

"That's Detective Drake," Ashton corrected her with a wry smirk. "Though, Boss does have a ring to it." He added. "Coffee room?" Ashton shrugged. It was a start.

So often, when he showed lost puppies around, they were lost. They observed. He didn't teach. They just followed him around without caring where they stepped. Quin wasn't a lost puppy. She didn't deserve to get led astray.

Ashton stuffed his hands in his pockets, and turned towards the coffee room. Coffee was generally accepted as a crucial element in their line of work. And so, to the coffee room he led.

The room was a simple affair, with white paint on the walls, a coffee pot, a microwave, a small fridge for staff lunches, and a couple of chairs and tables. It was a good place to take one's break, but not big enough to hold parties in. Certainly not the kind of location one hit up for socializing.

Ashton pointed to things as he entered the room. "Lunch fridge. Coffee pot. Tables. Cupboards. Creamer." He rattled the powdered creamer box in one hand, then set it back. "Occasionally, someone brings donuts."

Again, Quin noted the emphasis the Detective put on his title. It was important enough that he didn’t even want her calling him boss. The redhead made a point to see if she could figure out his sign. Surely that had something to do with it…she’d have to wait and see, after the tour.

The coffee room. Quin nearly rolled her eyes at the fact that the first place the veteran detective wanted to show her was the place where the coffee was made, but she didn’t say anything. Not yet. As they walked through the rest of the department, Quin looked, and learned, and tried to file every little piece of everything away. Wasn’t that what good detectives were supposed to do?

Detective Drake laid out the room for Quin, and she made note of the fact that this was probably where she’d be keeping her lunch. She had to admit, that was vital information. Unfortunately, some of the other stuff… “This is great, but I drink Green Tea, not coffee.” she said with the same smile she’d been giving the whole time.

” I do like donuts though. Detective Drake.”

Tea, huh?

He had had a comment for that, but then she went and called him 'detective' again. It shut him up, nicely.

"Good. Just watch out. Someone around here tends to steal all the cream-filleds. Next up," He started to lead without preamble. Without preamble, he showed her all the important spots. Evidence lockup. Offices. And so on, and so forth. Finally, he led her back to his desk. "And this is my desk. We need to get you set up with one of these."

Ashton's desk wasn't in any special office. It was on the floor with the other detective cubicles. Workable. Simple and clean. There weren't any personal touches on it, other than someone's idea of a gift sitting by his phone, counting down the days to certain meaningful events alongside pictures of cats, and his coffee mug. Pens and pencils rested in a blue pencil mug with Teddy Roosevelt on it (also a gift). The background on his computer was rolling green hills and blue sky.

”We’ll get along just fine so long as nobody steals the chocolate covered cake.” Quin commented. Just because she was new didn’t mean she didn’t belong. If Detective Drake could point out that someone liked to steal the cream filled donuts, Quin could point out her tastes, thank you very much.

The desk was much more interesting to see. Detective Drake said that they needed to work on getting her one of those and Quin preened a little. She was going to get her very own desk. The fact that it was going to be in a veritable sea of other desks didn’t matter…she was getting a desk of her very own in a room full of detectives. A desk that would be hers, with her own little cup and her own pencils, and anything else she wanted to put on top of it.

”When? When do I get one?” she asked, unabashedly eager. The tour was great, but she was still to be known as Officer Archer. She wanted her shield and she wanted it now…even though it was usually months to years before people got them…she wanted it now.

“And when can I start being impressive?” she added, smiling confidently.

>>”We’ll get along just fine so long as nobody steals the chocolate covered cake.”

Ashton agreed. "Heaven, forbid."

At the talk of desks, Quin was practically bouncing. "Soon," Ashton commented. And as for impressive. "Soon." He said. "The sooner, the better." Not that she wasn't impressive already. In Ashton's own rough little way, he was giving her a hard time. Teasing. Testing.

Ashton continued. "Cynthia should be able to do the honors right now, I think. For your desk. Shall we?" He gestured for Archer to lead. She certainly knew the way. And he didn't mind following one bit.

Soon, soon, the sooner the better. Hrm, so she hadn’t already been impressive. No pout crossed the redhead’s features, but she resolved to try harder. The problem with that was that usually when someone tried to be impressive, they failed miserably. Quin opted for continuing to be herself, it seemed to have gone alright so far.

As to her desk, they were going to take care of that immediately. Cynthia would be able to help! Suddenly, Quin liked the woman even more and when Detective Drake asked her to lead, she wasted no time getting them back to the reception desk where she’d checked in upon arrival. Cynthia was on the phone again, and Quin would have expected her to look harried. Instead, the woman looked absolutely in her element. The phone call quickly ended, and Quin smiled.

”I’ve been told I’m supposed to talk to you about a desk.” she said.

Cynthia examined the redhead from just over the bridge of her glasses lenses. "Alright," she agreed. "I'll see what I can do.". She rose briskly and started to make her way through the sea of desks, the one the secretary stopped at was slightly more worn and a little more out of the way than some of the others, but Quin figured upgrades came with time and success. This would do just fine. The view wasn’t of any of the windows. In fact, it was of the rest of the desks, but Quin could see that she was relatively close to the desk they’d just come from. Definitely talking distance, if the voices were slightly raised.

Dropping her things on the top of the desk, Quin smiled. ”This is amazing. Thank you so much Cynthia.” the redhead said grinning. The other woman nodded professionally and started working her way back through the sea.

Quin sank down into her slightly squeaky desk chair and grinned. “Anything else I need to see Detective Drake?” she was even in such a good mood, she dropped the slight emphasis on the title.

~*A few minutes prior, across town*~

"Now, I want everyone to put their belongings into the bag!!" The man in the ski mask shouted. He waved his gun at the ceiling. All over the room, men the exact same height, build, weight, appearance, and personality, did various tasks with equal force and efficiency. One walked around the room, gathering jewelry and cash in a large potato sack. A woman cried. The man with the bag sighed, then slapped her. He pointed, silently, to the bag. Reluctantly, and whimpering, the woman placed her mother's pearl necklace into the bag.

Behind the counter, a brave teller stealthily tripped the silent alarm.

~*Back across town, in the here and now*~

>>“Anything else I need to see Detective Drake?”

Ashton's pocket rang. He held up a finger to hold back Archer's comments as he focused on answering the call. "Detective Drake, here. Yeah. Okay." He got all the details quickly, then snapped the phone shut in front of him. He looked up to officer Archer. "You're good to go, right?" He asked.

They'd just received a call to action.

Detective Drake’s phone rang and Quin watched as he answered it, sitting on tenterhooks and wondering if she was going to get left at her desk all day while her chaperone went out on a call. He hung up after grunting a couple of times at the phone and looked at her. Quin did her best to look nonchalant.

Was she good to go?

”Absolutely.” she said, hand immediately checking her shoulder holster and jumping up, maybe just a little too eagerly, from her seat. So much for playing it cool, but they were going on a call!