Summary:Bishop and Sophie meet over pizza. Best pie in the city. Log Info:Storyteller: None |
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Mario's has been an old haunt of Bishop's since he was young, and he still makes it a point to drop in for a slice or three at least a couple times a week. Best pizza in New York, as far as he's concerned. The tall black man steps in through the main door, and the store is quiet for a change; it's pretty late in the evening, after all, though Mario's tends to stay pretty steady at all hours. He steps up to the counter and puts in his order to the young man working the till. "I'll take two," he says in his deep voice, casually. The young man gives a slightly nervous nod, having spotted the badge and gun; he must be fairly new here. There's a brief exchange of bills and coin, and Bishop takes a step to the side to wait for his slices, leaning back against the counter while he watches out the window and the street outside.
And then, into the pizza shop, there enters one young woman; a blond Irish firecracker, to be sure. Her entrance follows the sound of a car with a very powerful engine pulling up just outside; a classic Dodge Charger, for anyone who cares to look. Dressed in jeans and a leather jacket that shows just a hint of tattoos up her wrists, she comes to stand at the counter, looking up at the menu with the tell-tale bewilderment of someone who is looking at it for the very first time. After being prompted a couple of times to make a decision, she just uhms, and then points towards Bishop. "I'll, uhh, have what he's having, please."
Bishop smirks at the young woman's indecision, even as he's given the slices he'd ordered. Though there may be other combinations on offer, considering the menu board, Bishop is a bit of a purist. You don't mess around with New York City pizza. Classic pepperoni. "Best pie in the city," he says to the young lady, before folding one of his slices and taking a large bite from the end. "Nice ride," he comments after a moment, motioning with a nod out the window to the Charger parked on the street.
The young woman takes a half second to clue in to who's talking to her, before she ohs! "Thank you!" If there was any doubt as to her Irish origin, that goes away when she speaks and the accent is unmistakable. "Put it together myself, aside from the bodywork which is never any fun. It was rusting in a backyard with four flat tires until a few months ago. It's amazing what you can do with a little TLC; thank you for saying so." She leans against the counter, waiting for her pizza to arrive. "Best pie around, hunh? Can't wait to try it then." She pauses, and bobs her head once. "I'm Sophie," she adds at last. "Sophie Rivers."
"Lucas Bishop," the man says, sliding into a seat nearby. "And since New York is the pizza capital of the world," forget Italy, right? "Mario's has gotta be the best in the world." Bishop speaks with authority, like he's done the legwork. "Take it you're not from around here?" He motions to the seat beside him, an invitation to join.
Sophie chuckles softly, and shakes her head. "Nope. Fresh from Ireland. …Well, relatively fresh, been here a few months now. Long enough that I've bought a business and a place to live, all in the same building, and I've learned a few street names." She pauses, and smirks, "Enough that hopefully I won't get busted by New York's Finest if I drive my Charger the way I want to. …Not that I actually *do* that, mind you." She bobs her head once, "So… you've lived here a while, I take it? Definitely long enough to identify the best pie in town?"
"Born and raised," Bishop says with a definitive nod. "Parents got here back in the 80's, never looked back. Been coming here since I could walk down the street on my own," he continues, and takes another bite from his slice of pie. "So I consider myself a bit of an authority." The comment about New York's finest draws a bit of a smirk, and he brushes his jacket out of the way just enough that she'll be able to see the badge on his belt. "Can't speak for the rest of the force, but I don't bust people for getting lost. Just keep out of any street races, and you should be safe," he says with a smile. "And don't convert that badass ride into some kind of vigilante crime-fighting tank on wheels. The permits for those are a bitch to get," he says, really only half-joking. Because people have tried. And those permits really are a pain in the ass, on both sides of the fence.
The Irish blonde laughs, and shakes her head. "Can't make any promises about street races," she admits, "If some guy — especially if it's a guy who thinks girls can't keep up — pulls up beside me and squeals his tires, I might just have some honor to uphold." She pauses to thank the guy behind the counter as her pizza arrives, for which she pays and tips quite generously. "DOn't worry about the vigilante thing, though. There's no way I'd put my baby at risk like that. Risking a fender bender or something is one thing, risking getting my car blown up or atomized or beamed up by aliens or something? Yeah, no." She picks up the first slice and bites off the tip, chewing thoughtfully for a moment before swallowing. "…Ireland has nothing like that. There's lots of things in Ireland that are wonderful; but nothing like that. Worth coming here for that alone."
Bishop chuckles, "Well, if you gotta do one or the other.. the street racin's probably the safer choice," he says. "I get it, though, sometimes guys need to be put in their place. Still. Can't condone, y'know?" He gives a bit of a grin at that. "So what's your business? Guessing you didn't come all this way to run a sandwich shop." Irish pub would have been too obvious, maybe?
"Oh don't worry, I understand you can't condone. Just, y'know, don't expect me to confess, either." She grins, flashing white teeth. "No vigilante-ing with the car though, that I can promise you." She has another bite of the pizza, which goes down just as well as the first, and she shakes her head. "Not sandwich shop, no. Mechanics shop." she produces a business card, that says 'Red Brick Garage' on one side, and has her personal info on the back in green (how very cliche). "Just officially opened the doors a couple weeks ago; fix anything from a Honda Civi to a real classic." She hmmms, and chews over something in her head, apparently deciding to spit it out. "I was in the RAF," she offers, "But a military career didn't pan out, so I came to the fabled land of opportunity."
Bishop takes the card, turns it over in hands to look at the details, and slides it into his pocket. Never know when you're going to need a mechanic, right? Especially in this town, what with all the.. well, random destruction of property. Cars are not immune. "Might bring my car by some time.. got a weird rattle I can't track down." He shrugs. "What'd you do in the RAF? Pilot, or mechanic?" He takes another bite, chewing and savouring the taste as he listens for the answer.
"Pilot, but I was doing it to pay for my engineering degree." She shrugs her shoulders lightly. "Then I encountered an officer with twice as much rank and half as many brain cells as me. He figured I'd be a good date. I wasn't interested. He wouldn't take no for an answer; turns out the RAF doesn't like paying for reconstructive dental surgery." She shrugs her shoulders dismissively, then takes another bite. "I miss flying, though; that's the part that really disapoints." She shakes her head. "What's done is done. …Definitely bring your car by, I'll take a look, yeah?"
"No, I suppose they wouldn't like that," Bishop says, bobbing his head a bit. "Sorry to hear that's how it ended for you. Shitty deal." He frowns. It's a story he's heard before, unfortunately. More than a few good officers have left the force because of shitty men in positions of authority. "Did the right thing though, I say. A few broken teeth might not have gotten the message across, but it's a start."
Sophie laughs softly, and shakes her head, "Well, better a few busted teeth and a dishonorable discharge than being a victim of… I dunno, something. Could be worse, I guess. …At least I got some flying time in." She has a big bite of the pizza, and mmms, "Of course, now that I've admitted to assaulting someong and declared openly that I'm not opposed to street racing, and you're a policeman, I've probably identified myself as trouble maker number one." she smirks, "Don't worry, I'm a good girl, usually."
Bishop chuckles again, "I'm of the 'presume innocent' camp, myself. Besides, my precinct is Mutant Town, not Brooklyn. I won't send the Nine-Nine any reports on you," he says. Yeah, pop-culture reference. "I'm sure you'll be just fine. Can usually tell a trouble-maker when I see one, and I feel like whatever happens, your heart's in the right place." Good to have a positive attitude, at least, even if people usually prove you wrong. He takes his last bite of pizza, finishing off the crust. "Lucas Bishop, by the way. If you find yourself in my neck of the woods," he says.
Sophie chuckles softly, "Yes, you said," she replies. "It's okay," she adds with a light tone of mischief, "It's not uncommon for men to want to introduce themselves twice." She grins, as she finishes off her first slice of pizza. "I'm not into causing trouble, honestly, but sometimes people go ahead and cause it and then *someone* has to finish it. If that's the police, well, so much the better, but you and yours can't always be everywhere. Sometimes a girl's gotta take care of herself, yeah? …Military training helps." She ehs, holding her hands out palm-up. "if I ever find myself in Mutant Town — I'm sure I'll get there eventually — I'll keep an eye out for you."
"Oh, well now you'll remember it twice," he says, and brushes his fingers on his pants. Classy. Hey, he's off-duty, and there's a washing machine at home. "You're right though, we can't be everywhere. Can't help everyone. Sometimes you've gotta take care of what needs to be taken care of. Especially in this town. Might be a cop, but I'm a realistic cop." With that he stands up from his seat, dabs his face with a napkin, and crumples it up to throw it to the nearest trash bin. Swish. "I'll see you around then, Miss Rivers," he says with a nod and a smile, and makes his way to the exit.
Sophie grins, and bobs her head. "Likewise, Officer Bishop. I'll look forward to it." She chuckles, "Don't worry about wether or not you might have to give me a speeding ticket, I promise you won't catch me." That last said once again with that twinkle of mischief." She bites off the tip of her second slice, and leans back against the countertop. "Pleasure meeting you!" she adds, watching as Bishop makes his way out.