Patrollogs
(Irene's bribery attempt)
[Sat Nov 23 2024]
On the Walkway Leading to the Front Steps of Town Hall
This sidewalk has recently been paved and placed, with mortar in between
the thick slabs of concrete. Some grass has attempted to grow between,
sprouting out thickly here and there, though it still remains in good
condition. Some casual indigenous wildflowers have been planted to either
side of the sidewalk, blooming during the warmer months and resting as dark
brown patches in the winter. A few trees offer shade here and there.
It is night, about 28F(-2C) degrees, and there are a few dark grey stormclouds in the sky. There is a last quarter moon.
The slam of a car door behind Irene announces her arrival outside the Town Hall. Her breath mists the frosty air, and she rubs her hands together for warmth as she approaches the HSD deputy standing there. Her dark eyes seek his own, and she offers a nod in greeting. A glance is sent over her shoulder to ensure no one's following, or paying too close attention, but the clock has yet to even strike 5am; very few early risers are up quite this early.
Irene's manner is casual and nonchalant, her expression carefully neutral. When finally she speaks, it's to say, "Morning?" in a strangely questioning tone. As if neither of them can be truly sure that it is, in fact, morning, and she gives him a patiently askance look to confirm.
"Morning," hSD deputy replies, and then she takes this as some tacit confirmation. Her frost-wrinkled fingers dip into her wallet, which she hides beneath a tug of her flannel's lapel.
The slam of a car door behind Irene announces her arrival outside the Town Hall. Her breath mists the frosty air, and she rubs her hands together for warmth as she approaches the HSD deputy standing there. Her dark eyes seek his own, and she offers a nod in greeting. A glance is sent over her shoulder to ensure no one's following, or paying too close attention, but the clock has yet to even strike 5am; very few early risers are up quite this early.
Irene's manner is casual and nonchalant, her expression carefully neutral. When finally she speaks, it's to say, "Morning?" in a strangely questioning tone. As if neither of them can be truly sure that it is, in fact, morning, and she gives him a patiently askance look to confirm.
"Morning," hSD deputy replies, and then she takes this as some tacit confirmation. Her frost-wrinkled fingers dip into her wallet, which she hides beneath a tug of her flannel's lapel.
Irene then proceeds to count out her notes. One, two, three, and each time she gives the hSD deputy a critical look, waiting for signs of his assent that this is the correct amount. "We agree that you'll scrub the records clear," she checks with him, in a quiet tone. "I don't want any more visits or routine 'inspections' to my garage, capisce?" She doesn't openly hand him the money, but instead unfurls her fingers towards his own for a firm handshake, whereby she can slip him the notes discreetly; even the Scouts should have some trouble detecting what exactly took place here, although context clues end up giving it away.
Something that the portly hSD deputy says gets a nod from Irene, who soon withdraws her hand from his own to let the cop count out his bribe. But then, he tries asking her a question. "I'm not paying you so you can question me, Bob," she tells him with a fixedly stern look of her dark eyes. "Maybe they were real art students. Maybe they flunked out of school. It's nothing to you." She lets out a huff. By now, Scouts might piece together that this exchange concerns a recent scam attempted by a group of 'art students' who were going door to door in town to sell their work. One wonders what someone like Irene might have to do with it? But at least now the HSD no longer intends to question it. "I could've asked Deputy Valentin, or Deputy Bianchini, you know. And they'd probably ask fewer questions ..." (likely untrue) "... And give me less of a fuss. Just remember my people have your people in our pocket, so you should look at this as a good business opportunity, Bob. We don't have to be dealing with you at all."
There's time for a little more smalltalk between Irene and this Deputy Bob. "Have you ever thought about expanding your career horizons?" she idly wonders, while he pockets the bribe. "Would be a lot easier to do this in future if I had your number directly, or if you were working for mine. There's a lot more where that came from." She glances towards the cash he hides in his hand. "I'm sure the Hand would pay you a lot better. But unlike them, we don't come with any risks. We'll fund your interests without trying to bite on or feed on you. Just remember, this conversation could've gone a lot of ways for you. Many of them less profitable."
All the same, when this is said and done, Irene seems to decide it's time to go; she's gotten what she came here for, and so has the Deputy. "See you around, Bob," she tells him over the shoulder, and strolls on back to her car, hands in her pockets. She's gone before anyone else sees her, hopefully, as is the crooked cop, who squirrels his new funds away and waddles back to the Town Hall to see to his paperwork.
Irenes Bribery Attempt 241124
(Irene's bribery attempt)
[Sat Nov 23 2024]
On the Walkway Leading to the Front Steps of Town Hall
This sidewalk has recently been paved and placed, with mortar in between
the thick slabs of concrete. Some grass has attempted to grow between,
sprouting out thickly here and there, though it still remains in good
condition. Some casual indigenous wildflowers have been planted to either
side of the sidewalk, blooming during the warmer months and resting as dark
brown patches in the winter. A few trees offer shade here and there.
It is night, about 28F(-2C) degrees, and there are a few dark grey stormclouds in the sky. There is a last quarter moon.
The slam of a car door behind Irene announces her arrival outside the Town Hall. Her breath mists the frosty air, and she rubs her hands together for warmth as she approaches the HSD deputy standing there. Her dark eyes seek his own, and she offers a nod in greeting. A glance is sent over her shoulder to ensure no one's following, or paying too close attention, but the clock has yet to even strike 5am; very few early risers are up quite this early.
Irene's manner is casual and nonchalant, her expression carefully neutral. When finally she speaks, it's to say, "Morning?" in a strangely questioning tone. As if neither of them can be truly sure that it is, in fact, morning, and she gives him a patiently askance look to confirm.
"Morning," hSD deputy replies, and then she takes this as some tacit confirmation. Her frost-wrinkled fingers dip into her wallet, which she hides beneath a tug of her flannel's lapel.
The slam of a car door behind Irene announces her arrival outside the Town Hall. Her breath mists the frosty air, and she rubs her hands together for warmth as she approaches the HSD deputy standing there. Her dark eyes seek his own, and she offers a nod in greeting. A glance is sent over her shoulder to ensure no one's following, or paying too close attention, but the clock has yet to even strike 5am; very few early risers are up quite this early.
Irene's manner is casual and nonchalant, her expression carefully neutral. When finally she speaks, it's to say, "Morning?" in a strangely questioning tone. As if neither of them can be truly sure that it is, in fact, morning, and she gives him a patiently askance look to confirm.
"Morning," hSD deputy replies, and then she takes this as some tacit confirmation. Her frost-wrinkled fingers dip into her wallet, which she hides beneath a tug of her flannel's lapel.
Irene then proceeds to count out her notes. One, two, three, and each time she gives the hSD deputy a critical look, waiting for signs of his assent that this is the correct amount. "We agree that you'll scrub the records clear," she checks with him, in a quiet tone. "I don't want any more visits or routine 'inspections' to my garage, capisce?" She doesn't openly hand him the money, but instead unfurls her fingers towards his own for a firm handshake, whereby she can slip him the notes discreetly; even the Scouts should have some trouble detecting what exactly took place here, although context clues end up giving it away.
Something that the portly hSD deputy says gets a nod from Irene, who soon withdraws her hand from his own to let the cop count out his bribe. But then, he tries asking her a question. "I'm not paying you so you can question me, Bob," she tells him with a fixedly stern look of her dark eyes. "Maybe they were real art students. Maybe they flunked out of school. It's nothing to you." She lets out a huff. By now, Scouts might piece together that this exchange concerns a recent scam attempted by a group of 'art students' who were going door to door in town to sell their work. One wonders what someone like Irene might have to do with it? But at least now the HSD no longer intends to question it. "I could've asked Deputy Valentin, or Deputy Bianchini, you know. And they'd probably ask fewer questions ..." (likely untrue) "... And give me less of a fuss. Just remember my people have your people in our pocket, so you should look at this as a good business opportunity, Bob. We don't have to be dealing with you at all."
There's time for a little more smalltalk between Irene and this Deputy Bob. "Have you ever thought about expanding your career horizons?" she idly wonders, while he pockets the bribe. "Would be a lot easier to do this in future if I had your number directly, or if you were working for mine. There's a lot more where that came from." She glances towards the cash he hides in his hand. "I'm sure the Hand would pay you a lot better. But unlike them, we don't come with any risks. We'll fund your interests without trying to bite on or feed on you. Just remember, this conversation could've gone a lot of ways for you. Many of them less profitable."
All the same, when this is said and done, Irene seems to decide it's time to go; she's gotten what she came here for, and so has the Deputy. "See you around, Bob," she tells him over the shoulder, and strolls on back to her car, hands in her pockets. She's gone before anyone else sees her, hopefully, as is the crooked cop, who squirrels his new funds away and waddles back to the Town Hall to see to his paperwork.