Svetlana marched into the police station, this time not being escorted, summoned or rescued. That was a nice change. It almost felt like coming home.
Many people at MRC knew her already, or no doubt heard about her from others. Not many blonde Russian power boosters were waltzing around, not even in a big city like New York. They merely nodded to her as she walked in, looking around.
She could not see any familiar faces though, not the ones she was hoping for. The annoying guy from the docks and his redhead sidekick, or the friendly bear from the museum. Any of them would have done the trick, really. But none of them were around. So, she had to settle for a random choice of an MRC cop.
She did not really care which one, as long as the one she picked got the job done. But now that she was here, she took a few moments to look around and see her options. Some of them were no doubt mutants, it was harder to tell with some than with others.
She picked the handsome guy who sat at his desk. Not because he was handsome. Because no one seemed to be talking to him.
Planting herself in front of his desk, Sveta smiled a charming and very determined smile.

"Hi. My name is Svetlana. Would you mind teaching me to shoot?"

Ryan Doyle's desk was the one nearest to the window. Not because he wanted the view, earned the view, needed the view, it had nothing to do with the f***ing view... but his horrible smoking habits.

When Ryan first became a detective, he was always setting off the fire alarms within the 18th Precinct. He'd been told time and time again to stop smoking inside, but he never ever listened. Eventually his down right stubbornness gave in, and Ryan was give the widow desk and a fan.

But how is this relevant? It explained why Ryan merely stopped writing his report, pen in one hand, smoldering cigarette in the other, when a voice in front of his piped up,

"Hi. My name is Svetlana. Would you mind teaching me to shoot?"

Ryan looked up, slowly. His first initial reaction was that of confusion. Someone had decided to stop by his desk without barking orders to him and instantly leaving, without dropping off a stack of papers and instantly leaving, or came slightly within his vicinity... before instantly leaving. Ryan Doyle had a reputation of being a bit unpleasant within the precinct. A damn good cop, but not so skilled on the social side of life. Svetlana obviously didn't know this reputation. He forgave her, but the confusion still remained.

"... what?"

He did not get it. He did not even look like he knew her. Or her name. Or her reputation. Sveta sighed a bit and rolled her eyes, but now she was in it, would have been awkward to just walk away and try at the nearest desk again.

"I need to learn to shoot" she explained, sounding like her English teacher a million years ago "For self defense. And I need someone to teach me."

That was not the whole story. Actually, it was not even the beginning of the story, not at all. But that was the gist of it. And Sveta wrinkled her nose.

I could kill for a cigarette.

Svetlana Sergeyeva. One mouthful of a name for one handful of a woman. Ryan knew who she was, all of MRC did. She had a report sheet as long as the Nile. Defiantly someone who had more bad luck in their life than Ryan did, a feat that was hard to achieve.

She was also a mutant. If he remembered correctly, she could enhance a mutants powers just by touching them. He made a mental note to stand clear. However, Ryan knew that this power was most likely the reason Ms. Sergebalghagaha, whatever, was so "sought after." She was dangerous in the wrong hands. Ryan felt a pang of something that could have been described as noble... thinking of her as a weapon, not a person, didn't seem right. He quickly composed himself however, and shook his head.

"Look ma'am, in order to do that, I gotta go through a lot of paperwork. I hate paperwork. Besides, why me? I'm sure you could easily find some beat cop that would do anything for you, the way you look." Ryan shrugged, brushing off the compliment he'd indirectly given her. He wouldn't lie, she was very pleasing for the eyes. She was also under 21. No way was he touching that with... well, anything, really. He sighed, and picked up his pen again, returning to his paper work.

>>"Look ma'am, in order to do that, I gotta go through a lot of paperwork. I hate paperwork. Besides, why me? I'm sure you could easily find some beat cop that would do anything for you, the way you look."

When he first started talking, Sveta was willing to say 'thank you' and go find someone else. By the time he finished his second sentence, Sveta decided he was a jerk. By the time he finished talking, Sveta decided this guy would teach her to shoot, or get shot himself.
(If there was a fault in that logic, she really did not care)

"De way I look?" she echoed with a glare "Listen, Mister, you may be new here, and don't know who am I, but. I have been kidnapped three times this year, and I am sick and tired of smelly people dragging me around for de way I look, and my powers. And every time I punch one of dem, he gets stronger; and if dey touch me, dey can wipe out the whole city in ten minutes. It is your interest dat I can protect myself before dey get close enough." she looked down at his desk "And you look like you are not really doing anything so you have de time."

Damn. She had him. Ryan's poker face kept stolid, but he resented Svetlana's assumption of him being new. The detective may not have been good with social skills but he what he was good at was his job; he knew exactly who the Russian mutant was. She had an uncanny ability to be in exactly the wrong place at exactly the wrong time.

"And you look like you are not really doing anything so you have de time."

Shaking his head, Ryan held up a finger to motion towards the woman to wait. He bent down, shuffling through papers in his desk file. The slight breeze from the fan on his desk rustled the papers that were loose on top of his desk slightly, but Ryan had given up swearing over it a long time ago. Ryan muttered to himself as he searched.

"Warrant app.... warrant app....acquisition... 10-64...incident report...10-64....warrant app... a 7-96? What the f***? Permit...."

Ryan took out a small packet of papers stapled together at the top left corner. It was full of the usual dotted lines, legalese, and check boxes. Clicking a pen, he handed both it and the packet forward to Muse.

"Have fun. I'll go get us some coffee." If Ryan had to do this, he sure as hell wasn't going to do the paperwork. As the mutant detective walked over to the coffee station he shouted out across the room to "McNab! Come here!"

>>"Warrant app.... warrant app....acquisition... 10-64...incident report...10-64....warrant app... a 7-96? What the f***? Permit...."

Sveta arched an eyebrow, waiting to see what the hell he was searching for. She could not tell at once if he was considering her request or just looking for a way to kick her out... so she waited.
He handed a pile of papers to her.
Victory.

>>"Have fun. I'll go get us some coffee."

"I don't..." but he was already off, and Sveta sighed and sat down with the papers. Coffee. She would lose the three hours of sleep she was likely to get in one night.

Sveta was good at filling out forms.
If you are a runaway adopted by a mysterious woman and sold as a mail-order bride then turned into a legal alien under several names babysat by the mutant maffia, one of the many things you learn as fast as you can is filling out forms.
Lots of forms.
Sveta went from question to question, knowing where to lie and where to tell the truth, remembering the Sveta the NYPD knew (similar, but not the same as the Sveta Maya knew or Sveta who visited the Mansion).

By the time the guy came back with coffee, the papers were all done.