[h1][center][color=8882be]Ashley Gallagher, 1949[/color][/center][/h1]

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[h2][center][color=8882be]12:00 AM - Police Station[/color][/center][/h2]

	No one noticed the girl. It was understandable-- the office was swamped, justice was being served, the general hubbub of New York City was leaking in through the open windows along with the hot summer air, and no one noticed the girl. Ashley might have, if he'd been doing his job as opposed to letting the burn of his whiskey like fire down his throat lull him into something of a moment's peace. He supposed as long as the city was still bursting at the seams with crime he wouldn't get fired, and nothing had proven him wrong thus far.

	It was a quick walk at a brisk pace from his office down to the entrance, just fast enough to intercept Richard on the way in. "And where've you been, Smith? I've been watching the paint dry on my office wall waiting for your slow ass to show up." It was harmless jabbing, and Richard had been at his side long enough to know it. The man mustered up a cocky grin and the tip of his hat.
	
	"It was the Missus, Gallagher, I swear," His hands went up in mock surrender. "Couldn't keep her hands off for a moment."

	"She will when you're broke and out of a job, Smith."

	"What, you mean my charm and good looks wouldn't keep her at my side?"

	"Not for a damn moment and you know that." Ashley tossed him a wink, "I'm taking my cigarette break, pal. Go waste more time I'll be up in a jiffy." Richard rolled his eyes, but complied, his shiny shoes and the flutter of his coat hooked over his shoulder the last Ashley saw of him as he turned the corner.

	She had hair the color of night and eyes the color of summer grass, and he almost missed her entirely. He supposed it was poetic justice in one form or another that he was the one who finally spotted her- and on his damned smoke break, too. The cigarette was dangling between his lips, on the edge of being lit when she caught his eye like a small, dark, silhouette. She was small, seated in between two distracted bodies who dwarfed her in size. Anxiety rolled off her in mighty waves, the heel of her shoe tapping a staccato beat with no real rhythm but perhaps the pound of her own nervous heart. Her eyes met his and she startled as if she had been caught in the cream, her brows furrowing and her pale hands moving to draw the oversized trench coat further over her bare shoulders. 

	"Can I help you, miss?" He offered, hoping to God or whatever fool watching over them that her answer would be a prompt no so he could smoke his damn cigarette. The heavy man beside her grunted gruffly. 

	"I've been here hours longer than her!"

	"Didn't your mama ever teach you 'ladies first'? And unless you've got a surprise for us all, that ain't you." Ashley fidgeted, pulling the lifeless cigarette from his lips and pointing it uselessly at the man. "Shut up and wait your damn turn." The woman stood and it dragged his attention back to her, an inquisitive brow raised.

	"I... I'd like to speak with you." She murmured, almost so quiet he couldn't hear.

	"Speak up, please or I'll move along."

	She clenched her small fist and tried again. "I'd like to speak with you, and I wouldn't be so quick to dismiss me-- I'm sure you'll like what you hear." She had the faint touch of the New York accent that Ashley, no matter how long he lived in the damn city, would still find foreign to his ears.

	"Well then little lady, if you'll just follow me we can have a nice chat in my office. I didn't want this anyway." He gazed regretfully at the cigarette in hand and tossed it into the nearest bin, offering a guiding hand at the woman's back as they made their way to the stairs.