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Ashton's eyes shifted to Shula. He took note of her choice. Ravioli, a pasta with a tomato sauce? He briefly pondered what he was trying to choose between, and cast those choices aside, in favor of something that would go with the wine he picked. What was it again? With pastas that had tomato sauces, you went with a nice Chianti? It went well with them? Yeah, that seemed about right.

"I think I'll have what you're having, actually. It sounds good right about now, with a nice Chianti." Now, where was that waiter...? Ah, there. Like a ninja, he'd arrived at their table before Ashton had noticed him. With his stiff upper lip and his penguin waddle outfit, that somehow seemed a stretch. Ashton repeated his order. The waiter took notes, 'hmm'ing throatily now and then.

"And you, madam?" He turned to address Shula.

When he had received all his orders, he left politely, sweeping away from their table much in the way penguins don't, with that same shuffling grace.

Ashton smiled at Shula, shrugging the tiniest bit at the waiter. "Interesting place," he said in one breath, communicating more than just the surface value of his words. "So. Tell me about yourself." Hobbies, lifelong dreams, career plan. Whatever. He was listening.

*Snugs Sennyo* Get better!

>>“What the hell is a Gun-damn?”

Ashton glanced out the window dismissively, and opened his mouth. Nooo ideaaa..., he started to say. It never got out. Hell breaking loose cut him off. He spotted it, shambling. Shambling hell. Yup. The trees were moving, alright. Didn't even faze him one bit.

Ashton considered how they'd deal with something like that. Calm the chaos that was the crowd, most likely. That'd be important. Stopping the trees? Pft. They'd burn that bridge later.

It was going to be a long night. Ashton couldn't have said it better himself.

He got out of the car at the same time Cervantes did, but Ashton did not draw his firearm on the trees... not that Cervantes did. No, Cervantes did something far more aggressive. He ran headfirst into danger, and... taunted a tree. Yeah. Ashton scratched his head.

"Is this really the same guy who beat Bat Man?" He wondered aloud.

Ah, gunfire that didn't do anything. Like music to his ears. Bad music. Noisy. But he got what was going on.

Cervantes was drawing a tree's attention to save a family. Ashton moved to help the family. He didn't even bat an eyelash at Cervantes' order. "Handle your tree!" He shouted reproachfully, stopping by the family's vehicle. "I'll handle helping people." Speaking of. He turned to the people, and started helping. Giving directions. Doing cop stuff. He left crazy antics to people like Shinbo, and apparently, Cervantes.

The family rushed to safety, away from the trees. Ashton turned back to see Cervantes on the ropes. A curse ran through his mind as he drew his firearm, and trained it on the tree. He hoped he wouldn't have to use it. He'd feel kind of silly, shooting a tree.

>>"If it's the kind of client we're interested in, they won't give up the records to get us anything good."

"Maybe," Ashton replied, shrug, tone-implied.

Maybe, they'd have to get rough and go through the hoops and chains of command? Maybe, they'd have to get silly? Maybe, they'd have to get dangerous. Or maybe they'd just do some generous sleuthing, and everyone would go home at the end of the day, having learned something.

The key remote rose in his hand as Ashton unlocked his black Ford Taurus. He went around to the driver's side, and got in. Off, they went. Silence was golden. They got there. Ashton took in all the details of the building as they rode the elevators up to the appropriate office floor. And then, they were there.

Paul Perrette's office area wasn't amazing. Cubicles. Basic furniture. Basic computer, the most basic employees you could fathom. It was a workday, and everyone was still behind their desks. This was no 'root around for clues in personal workplaces' mission. At least, not yet. That would be a good idea, though. Once they were done looking into interviewing people who knew or worked with the recently deceased, they could go that way.

On entering the office area, the first thing to happen was the supervisor leaving his office to say 'hey'. "Hey," Ashton said right back. A single eyebrow arched. Who said hey these days?

"Hi," the supervisor continued. "Yes?" He looked from Drake, to Gage, befuddlement obvious on his face. "What is this about?"

Drake looked at him seriously, playing the role of the peace-maker. "Can we go to your office to talk for a moment?"

The man was curious and worried, but he gave in. All it took was a badge-flash response in answer to the 'who are you' look on his face. Gage followed Drake's lead. They went to the super's office. Drake clued him in. "Paul Perrette died today." He told the man. Rattled off details he could release, told the man to keep it to himself. Figured it was the only way to get more information out of befuddled paranoid Mr. Richards. Finally, he got to the point. Richards was shaking. Ashton continued as if he didn't notice. "I'm going to ask for your cooperation, and employee cooperation. I'm going to need to speak with your employees, ask questions, look at Perrette's office, dig around. You understand, right?"

"Whatever for?"

The guy was a bit stupid for the role of supervisor. Ashton looked him dead in the eye. "The investigation." He said.

"Oh." The super said, paranoia deflating inside him like a popped balloon - not well. A bit all over the place. "I'll help however you need." His eyes shifted suspiciously from face to face.

"Thank you," Ashton dealt with it. "Gage?" He looked to the woman from Internal Affairs. He smiled confidently at her. "What do you want to look into first?" He asked.

Ashton was still in charge, see? But he could let her think she had a bit of say now and again. He wasn't one to neglect a lady, now was he?

Offer, she did, and popcorn, Ashton took. The woman answered his question. Yes on one, no on another. But yes on so many other Bogart films. Ashton noted this. He also noted what he had to tell her.

But first, she asked him if he'd seen either film.

Actually. That fit in with what he'd wanted to tell her. Critical success? "Mhm," He hummed his reply. "Sabrina, just because you mentioned it last time." He'd gone out and found it. Not for her, mind you, or to score any points. He was a film buff, through and through.

Well, okay. Maybe to score points. But hell. The movie had been decent.

He'd already seen African Queen.

She asked his name. "Ashton," He replied. "What about you?"

The exchange was made. Popcorn for chocolate-covered raisins, comment for comment. Had he seen this one before.

"Yup," Ashton replied confidently. "It's one of my favorite Noir films. Up there with The Big Sleep... which, funny enough, also stars Bogey." He chewed over the thought with a mouthful of popcorn, eyes returning to the big screen. Another important thing was happening. He watched.

A moment later, he returned the question."What about you?"