sliceitwithwind

Entry tags:

Aya AU

The bar brawl was magnificent. It spread from the original bar (Dilan isn't sure which one that was) to three or four others, going in and out of them into something not quite a riot but not exactly not. Dilan got involved in the second bar on the trip, but managed to hold his own until the cops got there.

And he very politely sat down with his hands behind his head waiting for them to get around to him. Someone with that much facial metal (eyebrow, lip, nose), that hair, and that size tends to ping the combatant radar of everyone. Ever.

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"I'll take what I can get." she admitted wryly. Anything was better than nothing after all, information wise.

"I can handle tests. Give me a time and place. Barring, well, deaths, I'll be there."

Dilan reaches into his bag and pulls out a PDA - custom, he built it and it's sized for his fingers rather than a smaller person's fingers, "Thursday, Friday, or Saturday. Sometime between eleven in the morning and two in the afternoon, or after midnight but before three in the morning. Bring comfortable clothing and a pillow because the chairs suck and pillows are needed to sit comfortably."

She actually thought a moment, running through current cases and weekend schedules before she sighed "Friday, say one? I'll need to be back under by Saturday morning and that eats the whole weekend." and Thursday...she cooked. She wasn't giving that up.

Bad things happened when she did!

"I'm kinda used to terrible chairs, in case you didn't notice." she pointed out wryly.

"Friday at one." Dilan taps it in, sending it not only to his home computer but also logging it in the lab computer so that nobody else will book the time. "Would you like results mailed to you, or to come in for an in-depth consult? If the second I could use that as a reason to ask for your number, but truth is I was going to do that anyway."

"My number is readily available." she admitted with a grin "It's in the book, and our desk Sergeant is a gossip." she chuckled. That didn't stop her from pulling out her wallet and then passing over a card.

Yes, it had her rank, name, department and number for both desk and cell. Standard issue to pass out to witnesses and victims!

"Where am I going at one?"

Dilan gives her puppy-dog eyes that, nonetheless, have a laugh in them, "I meant your home number." and then it's back to business, "Ansem Laboratories, building C, fourth floor. You'll get a temporary passkey at the front desk which will let you onto the fourth floor, and it's all one room so you don't have to worry about that. The 13, 19, 27, and 63 all have stops in the complex."

"As if I'm ever home?" she countered with a laugh. "Trust me, you want the other numbers." she still hadn't gotten her answering machine to stop blinking twelve. She had two saved messages and it blinked twelve!

She had a notebook, not a PDA, but it served her well. "C and 4." she repeated simply. "Red line, Shore, Borough and Pete." she noted. "...I should get your number. I'll call if something happens..." cases were cases were cases. You didn't ask vics to hold on while you went to get your temp taken.

Dilan hands her his business card, which has his name and a line of numbers marked; Lab, Home, Cell. Like him it's a mix of the practical and the absurd - for all the limited information, the card itself is bright purple.

"Sounds good. If you're willing to have medical records sent to me I can get a general idea of your baseline statistics before doing testing."

...well. That wasn't getting lost in the wallet. "Budget ran out or you requested purple?" she asked teasingly as she tucked it away. She knew NYPD ended up with some crazy stuff when the budget flatlined after all. Like the coffee cups that were 'sample' sized. With ABC's on them.

"There's not much to know..." she admitted. "Just a lot of scrapes and bruises, but sure. Do I need to sign anything?" medical records were pretty routine right? Who didn't offer them up on the first date? And really, she wasn't joking about the 'not much' part.

"I like purple." Dilan says cheerfully, "And it made Xehanort's eye twitch. Xehanort is an asshole and we rather like fucking with him in ways that won't mess up the real work. You'll need to ask your doctor to send them over. What it will get me is all the stuff like your average resting heart rate, blood pressure, that kind of thing."

"Hmmm, from what I recall he's another apprentice..." she mused over another bite of sandwich. "The one who stands just a little too close to Ansem on camera." details, details...she didn't forget them usually?

""Send them to the same place?" she asked easily. Her doctor was a wonderful woman...and she be thrilled to see Aya when she wasn't bleeding!

"Same place." Dilan agrees, "Xehanort showed up a while back with amnesia. Ansem has halfway to adopted him. As someone who has been working for the man since he was twenty, I really dislike Xehanort. He's not a good scientist, he's not a good person, and he fucks with my things."

There is a pause, followed by, "I'm OCD. I've got it under control, but people do not fuck with my lab without bad things happening."

"Huh" a deep and thoughtful contribution, she knew, but the Xehanort story was pinging just a few too many buttons for her liking. She wondered if any cops had been called in about the amnesia/appearance bit. She might actually ask Pierce, when they weren't bogged in cases. "That's...interesting." she offered at last.

""One of our lab girls is actually the same way, though her reaction to people changing things is less...confrontational." she chuckled softly. "I assume he's far more than adult enough to get the idea...so he's doing it deliberately and with the aegis of Ansem's favor to protect him hmmm?"

"It is really fucking annoying." Dilan says firmly, "Agree with his politics or not, Ansem is a good man trying to make the world better. It does mean he's got a blind spot a mile wide when it comes to people that get close to him.

"He bothers me, Aya."

"I'm getting the feeling that it's not easy to get on your bad side." she admitted. "Much less truly bother you."

Yeah. She'd be looking into this.

"I won't be running into this guy coming in on Friday will I?"

"It's not easy." Dilan admits, "But it is possible. Chay and Quina, and messing with my stuff after finding out I'm OCD are about the only sore spots." Then he snorts, "Nah, you're coming straight to my building. If he shows up the guards won't let him in. He can leave a message."

Aya took note of the names with the briefest nod then grinned "That's relieving. I prefer to end up running into tense situations after physicals or the like." wouldn't want to skew results after all!

"How do you define 'messing with your stuff'?" she asked curiously "We talking I shouldn't rehang your coat on another hanger, or we talking looking and not touching in any area defined as yours?" OCD really wasn't something she had run into before. Learning early was a good idea...

"If it's clean, leave it alone." Dilan says, "If it's messy you can straighten it. If it belongs filed leave it be - I'm synesthetic and nobody but me can understand my filing system. Things that move should be put back - I can handle chairs being dragged around but they belong in place by the tables when everyone is done. I'm a neat freak times twenty."

Okay, that was interesting. He actually had her full attention now. Yes, before she'd been keeping an eye on the cafe out of habit but now..."Synethesia I understand. Files are all yours. As for the neatness factors though...do you have trouble being in other people's places? Does not having things organized as you would bother you?" this was an important question! She didn't want to potentially make him uncomfortable...

...and jesus. Danny'd be proud of her contemplating inviting him to her apartment eventually. She wasn't entirely sure when she skipped over that mental quandary in the name of curiosity, but hey.

"Nah. Although if I end up coming over regularly I warn you I may dust." he mimes dusting the table off, "Seriously, outside of my safe-places I'm very controlled. I just relax in places that I can tidy and clean up."

"...'rieta might get jealous if you dust." she noted off hand. "But I can deal with that if necessary." she shrugged. If. When. Etcetera etcetera.

"And yeah, I get safe places." really.

"...And I clean a lot more after fruit." Dilan adds, "It's like a sugar rush for the rest of you. And that's more than enough about me. Tell me about yourself, Detective?"

...

No, she was not just comparing the cost of fruit versus the cost of her cleaning service. Not at all. "Do you get the post-sugar crash and headache too?" she asked curiously as she dragged her brain back in line.

"Detective Aya Brea, Homicide." she shrugged "Not a whole lot to tell. No Doctorate, degrees in Criminology and Criminal Psych from NYU?" Yes, homicide detectives had been questioning him after a bar brawl. Bad news that...

...she also really couldn't think of what else to tell him. Those were the important parts?

"That depends on how many strawberries I eat." Dilan says with amusement, "What are your hobbies, sweetheart? What do you do when you're not working? What do you miss doing that you did when you had time?"

Strawberries. Well, that was noted. Yep, noted even as she raised an eyebrow at the word 'sweetheart'. She didn't need comment on that did she? "Mainly? I cook for the week ahead. Sometimes I do puzzles between cook times, and I usually have the radio going the entire time?" she offered with a sigh.

"As for that make believe era when I had 'time'? That...was a very long time ago, Dilan." she did miss all kinds of little things...but they were...yeah. "Years. Middle school actually. I'm pretty sure I don't miss the things I did then."

Aya AU

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