# 1 Avenue Q - If You Were Gay
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120_minutenTitel: Expectations
Challenge: Avenue Q - If You Were Gay
Fandom: Band of Brothers
Charaktere: Joseph Liebgott, David Webster, Officer Cortez, her partner
Sprache: Englisch
Kommentar: Ich habe in den letzten Tagen eindeutig zu viel „Gangsta’s Paradise“ gehört, also hier, habt ein AU?
Officer Cortez hadn’t even realized that she had certain expectations in regards to the appearance of the man they were about to meet until he stepped into the room and didn’t fulfill them.
Expectations
Officer Cortez hadn’t even realized that she had certain expectations in regards to the appearance of the man they were about to meet until he stepped into the room and didn’t fulfill them.
First of all, Joseph Liebgott wasn’t all that tall, in fact he probably had only a few inches on herself and she was of average height for a woman. He had short dark hair and sharp eyes that suggested an intelligence a step above that of their usual gangster. But most prominently, where she had expected broad shoulders and bulging muscles, Liebgott was of a slim build, almost skinny, though you could see some muscle definition around his upper arms and beneath the tight fit of his sleeveless shirt. She wondered how a man like that could beat up a guy almost twice his weight.
She was almost reassured that he fulfilled at least some of the clichés of a gang leader with the web of black tattoos that covered both his arms, starting at the wrists and running all the way up to his shoulders. She couldn’t make out most of them except for a Star of David near his right wrist and the word Currahee on his left lower arm. In contrast to most of the gang members she had met in her job he wasn’t wearing any jewelry save for a small ring in his ear and a slim silver chain around his neck that disappeared underneath his sleeveless shirt.
As he settled down in the chair opposite them she could see that the fight hadn’t left him unmarred either, the knuckles of both his hands were raw and bloody and there was a bruise forming on his pale skin right underneath his cheekbone. Still he looked miles better than his opponent, she could tell as much from the pictures she had seen earlier that day, especially considering he wasn’t currently occupying a hospital bed.
“I ain’t saying anything until my attorney gets here”, he said and started to light himself a cigarette. He didn’t seem at all troubled by their presence, his movements calm as he took out his lighter, used it and then put the lit cigarette between his lips to put the lighter back into the pocket of his jeans before taking a drag, blowing the smoke out slowly. But she had already noticed his right foot idly tapping the floor and wondered how much of that was an act and what it took him to keep it up. Gangsters were never happy when the police turned up at their doorsteps unannounced.
As they waited, she looked at him and the more she looked at him, the more it started to make sense to her. He might not be looking the part but there was strength there, a tension running just underneath the surface that could snap at any moment. He was probably quick on his feet, she mused, and his stature lead to his opponent underestimating him. Then she remembered that her partner had mentioned that he’d been in the Army, a paratrooper no less. Mr. Rivera probably didn’t even know what hit him before he woke up in the hospital.
She couldn’t find any pity in her for him, hell, if the accusations were true, she might need to buy this guy a bouquet of flowers or a bottle of whiskey for giving them a chance to catch the guy. But all this depended on the information they were able to gather, or lack thereof.
“He filing any charges?” Liebgott asked after five minutes and his first cigarette. His tone was idle, but she couldn’t help but notice that he’d just broken his own rule, and that the tapping of his foot had grown more impatient. He didn’t explain who he was talking about, though. He wasn’t that stupid.
“No”, her partner said with the voice of someone who tried to convince the guy otherwise without success.
“Didn’t think so.” Liebgott was just in the middle of lighting his second cigarette when the door opened and the awaited attorney stepped inside, shattering their hopes of getting more out of him without one present.
The attorney wasn’t what she had expected either. First of all, he was young, probably as young as Liebgott himself, and while a young gangster wasn’t all that special since most of them tended to die that way, a young attorney suggested a step up from the usual sleazy lawyers they encountered in places like this. The second thing she noticed was the suit, it fit so perfectly that it could only be made specifically for him. And where Liebgott might exude a raw attractiveness to those who were into bad boys, this man was classically handsome, so much that she could imagine a n exquisitely furnished house with his portrait on the wall.
“You’re late”, Liebgott said without looking up.
“Sorry about that”, the attorney said. His voice was smooth and his accent suggested an upbringing several paygrades above that of his client. “Traffic was a bitch. Besides, this wasn’t exactly a long-standing appointment.” And then he leaned forward and kissed Liebgott on the mouth.
The moment was over so quickly that for a second she wasn’t sure if it really happened at all or if her overworked, over-caffeinated brain was playing tricks on her. But when she threw a glance to the side her partner looked as stunned as she felt, so it must have been real.
She decided to ignore her expectations for the rest of the meeting. They weren’t being of any use to her anyway.
Still her brain couldn’t keep thinking about it, like pulling at the loose thread of a shirt. Staying the leader of a gang for more than a year without getting shot in a city like New York, even a small and comparatively unimportant gang like this one, was difficult enough. She couldn’t even fathom how difficult it had to be when you were gay, the average gang member being about as homophobic as he was misogynistic. And still he was, and he was even confident enough to display his relationship that openly. The more she thought about it, the more she realized that this told her all about Liebgott, and maybe about his gang, that she really needed to know.
The attorney set down his briefcase that looked like it cost more than her monthly rent and settled down into the second chair across the table. “I’m David Webster, I’m Mr. Liebgott’s attorney”, he said. He didn’t offer his hand and neither did they. “So, shall we begin?”
Her partner cleared his throat in that way that told her how desperate he was to get a handle on this situation. “Our sources tell us that there was a disagreement with Mr. Rivera about his additional sources of income. Can you tell us what that was about?”
“My client is denying any claims that a disagreement of any kind took place and that he had anything to do with Mr. Rivera’s hospital stay”, the attorney said promptly like he was reading it out.
The meeting could have ended right there since nothing was such a waste of time as trying to take to a client who’s attorney was stonewalling. But to their surprise, Liebgott had something to say as well.
He leaned forward onto the table. From this position she could make out a tattoo spelling Easy Company, 501st Airborne around his left upper arm, and she made a hazard guess that the chain around his neck was still holding his dog tags, their outline even faintly visible through the fabric of his shirt now that she looked closer. “If you’re here, then you already know what it was about. Or do you want to tell me that the New York police suddenly cares if a third-rate gangster gets a broken nose?”
“To my understanding there were also a couple broken ribs involvement as well as a shattered kneecap and a concussion”, her partner said.
“Huh”, Liebgott said like this was news to him. He took another drag of his cigarette before passing it on to his attorney without even looking. There was a familiarity there that went beyond that of a simple relationship, and suddenly she thought that they should look up if David Webster’s name came up in Easy Company’s records, which would explain how men so unlike each other could meet. She wondered if their relationship started after they were discharged or before.
“Why did you have a problem with the way Mr. Rivera was making some extra cash?” her partner asked. “You knew he wasn’t working for you alone.”
“My client denies any kind of relationship with Mr. Rivera, especially one that implies the exchange of money for goods or services”, Mr. Webster said.
Liebgott tilted his head slightly. “It doesn’t bother me if people have… alternate revenue streams. Hypothetically speaking”, he added after there was a movement under the table that was maybe Mr. Webster nudging Liebgott with his foot.
“But this specific alternate revenue stream bothered you?” her partner asked. She was reminded of a game she used to play as a kid where you were trying to find a pot of sweets on the floor while blindfolded. It was getting warmer.
“My client denies any knowledge of any of Mr. Rivera’s working activities”, Mr. Webster said. It almost seemed like he was enjoying this. You probably had to to pass a state exam.
“Most people have a line for things they think are acceptable to do for money. Mine might be a little farther down the road compared to you lot, but I’ve got one. If”, Liebgott glanced at his attorney, “Mr. Rivera crossed it, and if we would have been in a working relationship at that time, I would’ve been…”
“Displeased”, his attorney said.
“Yeah, that.” Liebgott nodded and accepted the cigarette back.
“What can you tell us about Mr. Rivera additional source of income?” her partner asked.
Mr. Webster opened his mouth but Liebgott waved him off. “Nothing specific.”
She could tell that her partner wanted to dial up the pressure, but she knew that would be a mistake. They didn’t really have anything on Liebgott and he knew that. If they tried to manhandle him, they would only piss him off.
So she touched her partner’s arm and he closed his mouth without saying anything. Instead she pulled a card with the number of their department out of the picket of her blazer and slid it across the table. “If you stumble over anything that might aid our investigations, give us a call.”
He met her gaze like he was noticing her for the first time this afternoon and was slightly surprised by what he was seeing. “Maybe I will, maybe I won’t”, he said, but she watched him slip it into the pocket of his jeans. “Now get out.”
She stood up and bowed slightly. “With pleasure.”
She could see the corners of his mouth twitch slightly before she turned around and went for the door.
“So, what do you think?” her partner asked her once they were both sitting in the car again. “He gonna hang him out to dry?”
She shrugged. “I think”, she said with a sigh, “that I need a really big coffee now. Preferably Irish.”
Challenge: Avenue Q - If You Were Gay
Fandom: Band of Brothers
Charaktere: Joseph Liebgott, David Webster, Officer Cortez, her partner
Sprache: Englisch
Kommentar: Ich habe in den letzten Tagen eindeutig zu viel „Gangsta’s Paradise“ gehört, also hier, habt ein AU?
Officer Cortez hadn’t even realized that she had certain expectations in regards to the appearance of the man they were about to meet until he stepped into the room and didn’t fulfill them.
Expectations
Officer Cortez hadn’t even realized that she had certain expectations in regards to the appearance of the man they were about to meet until he stepped into the room and didn’t fulfill them.
First of all, Joseph Liebgott wasn’t all that tall, in fact he probably had only a few inches on herself and she was of average height for a woman. He had short dark hair and sharp eyes that suggested an intelligence a step above that of their usual gangster. But most prominently, where she had expected broad shoulders and bulging muscles, Liebgott was of a slim build, almost skinny, though you could see some muscle definition around his upper arms and beneath the tight fit of his sleeveless shirt. She wondered how a man like that could beat up a guy almost twice his weight.
She was almost reassured that he fulfilled at least some of the clichés of a gang leader with the web of black tattoos that covered both his arms, starting at the wrists and running all the way up to his shoulders. She couldn’t make out most of them except for a Star of David near his right wrist and the word Currahee on his left lower arm. In contrast to most of the gang members she had met in her job he wasn’t wearing any jewelry save for a small ring in his ear and a slim silver chain around his neck that disappeared underneath his sleeveless shirt.
As he settled down in the chair opposite them she could see that the fight hadn’t left him unmarred either, the knuckles of both his hands were raw and bloody and there was a bruise forming on his pale skin right underneath his cheekbone. Still he looked miles better than his opponent, she could tell as much from the pictures she had seen earlier that day, especially considering he wasn’t currently occupying a hospital bed.
“I ain’t saying anything until my attorney gets here”, he said and started to light himself a cigarette. He didn’t seem at all troubled by their presence, his movements calm as he took out his lighter, used it and then put the lit cigarette between his lips to put the lighter back into the pocket of his jeans before taking a drag, blowing the smoke out slowly. But she had already noticed his right foot idly tapping the floor and wondered how much of that was an act and what it took him to keep it up. Gangsters were never happy when the police turned up at their doorsteps unannounced.
As they waited, she looked at him and the more she looked at him, the more it started to make sense to her. He might not be looking the part but there was strength there, a tension running just underneath the surface that could snap at any moment. He was probably quick on his feet, she mused, and his stature lead to his opponent underestimating him. Then she remembered that her partner had mentioned that he’d been in the Army, a paratrooper no less. Mr. Rivera probably didn’t even know what hit him before he woke up in the hospital.
She couldn’t find any pity in her for him, hell, if the accusations were true, she might need to buy this guy a bouquet of flowers or a bottle of whiskey for giving them a chance to catch the guy. But all this depended on the information they were able to gather, or lack thereof.
“He filing any charges?” Liebgott asked after five minutes and his first cigarette. His tone was idle, but she couldn’t help but notice that he’d just broken his own rule, and that the tapping of his foot had grown more impatient. He didn’t explain who he was talking about, though. He wasn’t that stupid.
“No”, her partner said with the voice of someone who tried to convince the guy otherwise without success.
“Didn’t think so.” Liebgott was just in the middle of lighting his second cigarette when the door opened and the awaited attorney stepped inside, shattering their hopes of getting more out of him without one present.
The attorney wasn’t what she had expected either. First of all, he was young, probably as young as Liebgott himself, and while a young gangster wasn’t all that special since most of them tended to die that way, a young attorney suggested a step up from the usual sleazy lawyers they encountered in places like this. The second thing she noticed was the suit, it fit so perfectly that it could only be made specifically for him. And where Liebgott might exude a raw attractiveness to those who were into bad boys, this man was classically handsome, so much that she could imagine a n exquisitely furnished house with his portrait on the wall.
“You’re late”, Liebgott said without looking up.
“Sorry about that”, the attorney said. His voice was smooth and his accent suggested an upbringing several paygrades above that of his client. “Traffic was a bitch. Besides, this wasn’t exactly a long-standing appointment.” And then he leaned forward and kissed Liebgott on the mouth.
The moment was over so quickly that for a second she wasn’t sure if it really happened at all or if her overworked, over-caffeinated brain was playing tricks on her. But when she threw a glance to the side her partner looked as stunned as she felt, so it must have been real.
She decided to ignore her expectations for the rest of the meeting. They weren’t being of any use to her anyway.
Still her brain couldn’t keep thinking about it, like pulling at the loose thread of a shirt. Staying the leader of a gang for more than a year without getting shot in a city like New York, even a small and comparatively unimportant gang like this one, was difficult enough. She couldn’t even fathom how difficult it had to be when you were gay, the average gang member being about as homophobic as he was misogynistic. And still he was, and he was even confident enough to display his relationship that openly. The more she thought about it, the more she realized that this told her all about Liebgott, and maybe about his gang, that she really needed to know.
The attorney set down his briefcase that looked like it cost more than her monthly rent and settled down into the second chair across the table. “I’m David Webster, I’m Mr. Liebgott’s attorney”, he said. He didn’t offer his hand and neither did they. “So, shall we begin?”
Her partner cleared his throat in that way that told her how desperate he was to get a handle on this situation. “Our sources tell us that there was a disagreement with Mr. Rivera about his additional sources of income. Can you tell us what that was about?”
“My client is denying any claims that a disagreement of any kind took place and that he had anything to do with Mr. Rivera’s hospital stay”, the attorney said promptly like he was reading it out.
The meeting could have ended right there since nothing was such a waste of time as trying to take to a client who’s attorney was stonewalling. But to their surprise, Liebgott had something to say as well.
He leaned forward onto the table. From this position she could make out a tattoo spelling Easy Company, 501st Airborne around his left upper arm, and she made a hazard guess that the chain around his neck was still holding his dog tags, their outline even faintly visible through the fabric of his shirt now that she looked closer. “If you’re here, then you already know what it was about. Or do you want to tell me that the New York police suddenly cares if a third-rate gangster gets a broken nose?”
“To my understanding there were also a couple broken ribs involvement as well as a shattered kneecap and a concussion”, her partner said.
“Huh”, Liebgott said like this was news to him. He took another drag of his cigarette before passing it on to his attorney without even looking. There was a familiarity there that went beyond that of a simple relationship, and suddenly she thought that they should look up if David Webster’s name came up in Easy Company’s records, which would explain how men so unlike each other could meet. She wondered if their relationship started after they were discharged or before.
“Why did you have a problem with the way Mr. Rivera was making some extra cash?” her partner asked. “You knew he wasn’t working for you alone.”
“My client denies any kind of relationship with Mr. Rivera, especially one that implies the exchange of money for goods or services”, Mr. Webster said.
Liebgott tilted his head slightly. “It doesn’t bother me if people have… alternate revenue streams. Hypothetically speaking”, he added after there was a movement under the table that was maybe Mr. Webster nudging Liebgott with his foot.
“But this specific alternate revenue stream bothered you?” her partner asked. She was reminded of a game she used to play as a kid where you were trying to find a pot of sweets on the floor while blindfolded. It was getting warmer.
“My client denies any knowledge of any of Mr. Rivera’s working activities”, Mr. Webster said. It almost seemed like he was enjoying this. You probably had to to pass a state exam.
“Most people have a line for things they think are acceptable to do for money. Mine might be a little farther down the road compared to you lot, but I’ve got one. If”, Liebgott glanced at his attorney, “Mr. Rivera crossed it, and if we would have been in a working relationship at that time, I would’ve been…”
“Displeased”, his attorney said.
“Yeah, that.” Liebgott nodded and accepted the cigarette back.
“What can you tell us about Mr. Rivera additional source of income?” her partner asked.
Mr. Webster opened his mouth but Liebgott waved him off. “Nothing specific.”
She could tell that her partner wanted to dial up the pressure, but she knew that would be a mistake. They didn’t really have anything on Liebgott and he knew that. If they tried to manhandle him, they would only piss him off.
So she touched her partner’s arm and he closed his mouth without saying anything. Instead she pulled a card with the number of their department out of the picket of her blazer and slid it across the table. “If you stumble over anything that might aid our investigations, give us a call.”
He met her gaze like he was noticing her for the first time this afternoon and was slightly surprised by what he was seeing. “Maybe I will, maybe I won’t”, he said, but she watched him slip it into the pocket of his jeans. “Now get out.”
She stood up and bowed slightly. “With pleasure.”
She could see the corners of his mouth twitch slightly before she turned around and went for the door.
“So, what do you think?” her partner asked her once they were both sitting in the car again. “He gonna hang him out to dry?”
She shrugged. “I think”, she said with a sigh, “that I need a really big coffee now. Preferably Irish.”
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Date: 2018-12-14 11:31 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2018-12-15 10:06 am (UTC)