Post by Alenis Meru on May 11, 2014 20:55:57 GMT
OOC: Please read the Meru Mysteries OOC thread before posting!
Constabulary Station #3
Holodeck 2
USS Portland
Two weeks after launch
“How about ‘Detectives Dash Daring….’ No, that won’t work.” With his subjects blinded by the flashbulb, a young reporter was deep in thought trying to come up with an alliterative headline. “Perhaps ‘Constabulary Catches Cunning Criminals’ – I’m sure that would make a great headline for the front page of the Telegram.”
“Right, I think we’re done here,” barked Inspector McCluskey in a thick Yorkshire accent. He had little patience for Clark Kent and his newfangled brand of ‘photo-journalism,’ or so he called it. “Mr. Kent, I’m sure one of my constables will help see you out. Meru, a moment please.”
“What is it, Inspector,” asked Alenis as Clark Kent closed the door behind him. McCluskey had his back to Alenis, as he reached for a glass and a bottle of scotch on his mantle.
“Meru, I wish you would not wear pants,” he said, turning to face her.
“I beg your pardon!” Alenis was taken aback. It sounded like the inspector was making a pass at her. But the delivery was crude, even for him. “What would Mrs. McCluskey say?”
“No, not like that,” he muttered, a horrified expression on his face. “It’s just, people see a woman wearing trousers – especially a single woman at your age – and they start to suspect thing. Pretty soon rumours start to spread. Just yesterday, I was asked by an alderman of all people if you were a… a…”
“A what?” asked Alenis, a slight smile appearing at the corners of her mouth. She found the antics of the red-faced Yorkshireman to be quite hilarious.
“A suffragette!” shouted McCluskey. A constable passing by the glass door of McCluskey’s office stopped and peered in, having overheard the word. McClusky glared at the young constable, motivating him to move on, as he poured himself a drink. He took a large swig and the resumed the conversation. “Look, Meru, I know it’s a man’s world on the force and you’re just trying to fit in, but you should be more ladylike. Would it kill you to wear a skirt from time to time?”
“I’ll consider it,” replied Alenis, trying to suppress a laugh as she looked down at her dark pantsuit. The quaint little societal quirks of the Victorian era were just too absurd. This program made her thankful that she was born in the 24th century; she knew she wouldn’t last long near the turn of the 20th on Earth. She had no intention of wearing a corset, and wouldn't be caught dead in a whalebone dress.
“It’s not funny, Meru. Tomorrow your picture is going to be all over the front page of the Telegram, wearing that… that… suit. How am I going to explain that to the boys at the club?”
“I don’t know, sir, you could just say it’s standard detective wear.” Alenis was having fun tormenting the Inspector. “It's not all that different from what Detective Murdoch used to wear.”
“If that’s supposed to be a joke, Meru, it’s not funny.” McCluskey took another swig of his scotch. “And another thing, this wearing just one earring business. I don’t know if this is the latest fashion from Europe, but it looks like you lost the other on the tram!”
“Thank you, Inspector,” replied Alenis, touching the earring in her right ear. The traditional Bajoran earring was given to her by her mother; it was one of the few material possessions she had to reminder her of her childhood on Bajor. “Now, unless you have any more fashion advice, I should be getting down to the lobby.” Alenis pulled out her pocketwatch and glanced at the dial. “Our guests should be arriving at any moment.”
“Go,” muttered McCluskey as he raised the glass to his lips.
(tag – anyone)
Constabulary Station #3
Holodeck 2
USS Portland
Two weeks after launch
“How about ‘Detectives Dash Daring….’ No, that won’t work.” With his subjects blinded by the flashbulb, a young reporter was deep in thought trying to come up with an alliterative headline. “Perhaps ‘Constabulary Catches Cunning Criminals’ – I’m sure that would make a great headline for the front page of the Telegram.”
“Right, I think we’re done here,” barked Inspector McCluskey in a thick Yorkshire accent. He had little patience for Clark Kent and his newfangled brand of ‘photo-journalism,’ or so he called it. “Mr. Kent, I’m sure one of my constables will help see you out. Meru, a moment please.”
“What is it, Inspector,” asked Alenis as Clark Kent closed the door behind him. McCluskey had his back to Alenis, as he reached for a glass and a bottle of scotch on his mantle.
“Meru, I wish you would not wear pants,” he said, turning to face her.
“I beg your pardon!” Alenis was taken aback. It sounded like the inspector was making a pass at her. But the delivery was crude, even for him. “What would Mrs. McCluskey say?”
“No, not like that,” he muttered, a horrified expression on his face. “It’s just, people see a woman wearing trousers – especially a single woman at your age – and they start to suspect thing. Pretty soon rumours start to spread. Just yesterday, I was asked by an alderman of all people if you were a… a…”
“A what?” asked Alenis, a slight smile appearing at the corners of her mouth. She found the antics of the red-faced Yorkshireman to be quite hilarious.
“A suffragette!” shouted McCluskey. A constable passing by the glass door of McCluskey’s office stopped and peered in, having overheard the word. McClusky glared at the young constable, motivating him to move on, as he poured himself a drink. He took a large swig and the resumed the conversation. “Look, Meru, I know it’s a man’s world on the force and you’re just trying to fit in, but you should be more ladylike. Would it kill you to wear a skirt from time to time?”
“I’ll consider it,” replied Alenis, trying to suppress a laugh as she looked down at her dark pantsuit. The quaint little societal quirks of the Victorian era were just too absurd. This program made her thankful that she was born in the 24th century; she knew she wouldn’t last long near the turn of the 20th on Earth. She had no intention of wearing a corset, and wouldn't be caught dead in a whalebone dress.
“It’s not funny, Meru. Tomorrow your picture is going to be all over the front page of the Telegram, wearing that… that… suit. How am I going to explain that to the boys at the club?”
“I don’t know, sir, you could just say it’s standard detective wear.” Alenis was having fun tormenting the Inspector. “It's not all that different from what Detective Murdoch used to wear.”
“If that’s supposed to be a joke, Meru, it’s not funny.” McCluskey took another swig of his scotch. “And another thing, this wearing just one earring business. I don’t know if this is the latest fashion from Europe, but it looks like you lost the other on the tram!”
“Thank you, Inspector,” replied Alenis, touching the earring in her right ear. The traditional Bajoran earring was given to her by her mother; it was one of the few material possessions she had to reminder her of her childhood on Bajor. “Now, unless you have any more fashion advice, I should be getting down to the lobby.” Alenis pulled out her pocketwatch and glanced at the dial. “Our guests should be arriving at any moment.”
“Go,” muttered McCluskey as he raised the glass to his lips.
(tag – anyone)
