Brush with the Police

[hazlogs]

It is currently 11:51 Pacific Time on Sat Mar 29 1997.
Currently on this windy and cool spring afternoon in the general St. Claire
area, it is 50 degrees Fahrenheit (10.0 degrees Celsius). The wind is coming
from the northwest at 29.1 mph. The ground is icy and freezing rain pours
down from the sky. Skies are overcast with a definite chance of
precipitation.

Harbor Park Fountain
The former fountain is somewhat cleaned, now, though the site of the blast
itself is still like a raw, open wound in the park. The flagstone court, or
what of it remains away from the fountain-hole, has been swept clean; the
grass springs bright, verdant green farther out. The bushes are still
charred and twisted, another reminder of the carnage. The piping towards the
middle of the crater is also twisted, some of it melted, much of it
splintered.
The murky waters of the Columbia River flow swiftly along the east side of the
park. Bracketing the park to the west is First Street. The park extends to
the south.

Jennifer returns, visible skin scrubbed red and soaked shirt clinging to her
curves.
Steven raises his eyebrows as Jennifer turns towards the river. He spins his
head to Mikhail and says, "I don't know -- 5 or 10 minutes, probably." He
looks like he wants to say something more but bites off his words. To Joe,
he says again, "Look, man, what happened to you so we can help you?"
Joe keeps his eyes shut. His shoulders shake with tears, even as his hand
moves to scratch his own face.
Mikhail snarls,"I don't think he can be 'helped' Steven, except by fufilling
his request. He seems as though he has been taken by the enemy."
Steven shakes his head, emphatically negatively. "No, sir, we can't do that,
sir. The police are coming."
Jennifer stumbles back to the scene in time to hear Mikhail.
Joe is near Steven and Mikhail, lying on the pavement, crying. Black vomit
oozes into the cracks of the pavement near his head. His shirt is also
soaked with the stuff.
A distant screech of tires on concrete heralds the arrival of a black 280Z as
it comes to a halt in a parking space alongside the park. The faint thrum of
a stereo dies along with the vehicle's motor. Nick opens the door, slings
his jacket over his frame, and fires up a black cigarette as he wanders into
the park.
Mikhail bites out, lowly,"So, they find a dead man. Take the girl with us, to
make sure she's cleansed ... or dealt with."
Jennifer says "My god, how could you even think of *killing* him just because
he's sick. He can't help it. I promise you, whoever you are, if even touch
this young man I will be the star witness at your trial."
Erik stops short some distance away from the small group around the prone man.
The tall, gangly body freezes.
Steven glances around the park and gives a shrug. To Jennifer he angrily
snaps, "Shut up. If you know what's good for you, you'll just stop talking."
Back to Mikhail, he says, "I don't think that'd be very wise, sir."
Jennifer says "That's it. I'm waiting for the cops outside. All of you are
insane."
One of the two bums sitting on the curb holds out a can. "Dollar, mister? I
haven't eaten today." His red-shot eyes and puffy features show that eating
isn't the first thing on his mind.
Jennifer turns, and head for the park entrance.
Jennifer makes her way onto the street in the west.
Erik remains caught in a confining web of indecision, motionless as a deer
standing in the fatal lights of an oncoming car.
Mikhail tenses his jaw,"Steven, deal with her. Shut her up, and make sure she
doesn't become a problem with the police. I'll make sure that one," he
points to Joe, doesn't cause any more problems until the police arrive.
Mikhail straightens slightly, almost seething and moves both his arms to hang
loosely at his sides.
Joe starts to crawl away, dragging his belly on the dirty ground. He doesn't
flinch when his face rests on a broken piece of glass. He continues away
from the Garou, toward the river.
Steven gives a brief glance at Mikhail and then back at the prone man. He nods
once and then says quietly, calmly, "Please, sir, it would be, difficult to
explain an event like that to the police." With that said, he walks towards
the park exit and Jennifer.
Steven makes his way onto the street in the west.
Nicodemus apparently ignores the bum, paying him not the least bit of
attention lest he actually be assosciated with the man. Unseen by the casual
onlooker, a half-empty pack of clove smokes is nudge out the side of his
pocket and 'accidentally' kicked towards the bum. Nick watches the
congregation near the prone man as he keeps his distance.
The bum takes the offering in shaking hands, muttering a low thank-you. In a
pathetic show of companionship, the bum turns to his homeless black
companion and shares the pack. They withdraw down the street a little.
Mikhail watches the man crawl away, crossing his arms as he does so, and
seeming to reign his anger in a little.
Along the street, a cop car pulls up.
Joe pages to Erik, Nicodemus, and Mikhail: Anyone that wants to interact with
the cop before they come into the fountain area can go out one room. :)
Erik stirs himself into action, but makes no move to approach the angry
Mikhail and the battered-looking Joe. His head turns restlessly from side to
side, scanning the park as best he can without decent peripheral vision.
Nicodemus yells out from over by the road. "Hey, what the fuck's goin' on?"
Ah, concerned citizens.
Mikhail moves back and away from the man and the center of the park, and
begins walking across it as the police arrive, only giving the crawling man
a passing glance, and appearing to not notice the police in any fashion.
Two police, one black and one white, come into the area. Both have their guns
out, which is a little odd for a suicide call.
Erik moves a step back -- not that he was particularly close to the bleeding
man anyway -- and watches the cops warily.
Along the street, Steven calls out in reply to Nic. "Nothing, just some sick
wacko puking out by the fountain or something." He then turns back to his
conversation with the young woman with him, who seems angry.
The black officer nods to his partner, who circles around toward the crawling
man. He then raises his voice, looking directly at Mikhail. "Excuse me, sir.
I need to ask you some questions." His gun is out, if not raised at the
Garou.
Nicodemus makes a quick summary. Between the Big Red, the Masked Avenger, the
crawling injured guy, and the cops with guns, he apparently decides to be
further away from the action... like over near his car.
Joe continues to crawl toward the river. The brown-haired officer is catching
up to him rapidly.
Mikhail turns, and then raises and eyebrow. The anger in his expression seems
gone, almost entirely so as he faces the police officer. "How can I help
you, officer?" His tone is pleasant, for the most part, though mildly
inquisitive as well.
The officer says, "I'm Officer Lee. There's a girl out there that's leveled
some pretty severe accusations about you. How about you come back this way,
and we'll just ask you a few questions?"
Steven makes his way down the disintegrating cement path, leaving the road
behind.
Mikhail nods, making his way back to the officer. "Oh, her. Yes, I remember
that young lady. Quite a hysteric, that one. I'm hardly surprised. What
questions would you like me to answer, officer?"
Erik moves sideways toward a nearby bench and leans against it,
Steven trails in, off the street, with a backward glance in that direction. He
makes his way towards the fountain again, standing silent.
The other officer kneels at Joe's side. Joe cries again and tries to get to
his feet, but the officer pushes him down. "Stay down, son. What the hell
happened to your skin?" Joe doesn't answer, just shaking his head again and
again.
Officer Lee nods once, but doesn't relax much. He motions toward Joe. "You
know this man?"
Mikhail says in a cool tone,"I would not say I know him. He has been wandering
about the park here, saying something about worms eating away his skin. Or
some such. He asked me to 'kill him' as well. I asked that other young man
there," he points to Steven,"To call the police so you could take care of
him. Unfortunately, that young lady you spoke to seemed to think that a
cruel act. I'm not sure what she expected me to do, I'm not a physchologist,
nor a doctor. She, ah, attempted to help him," he indicates to Joe,"but he,
ah, vomited on her. She ran off towards the river after that, screaming
something. I don't remember seeing her after that. I waited for the arrival
of the authorities for a while, then decided I might as well leave."
Shadow Eyes pads into the park, and nuzzles Steven's leg from behind...
Steven seems quite distracted at the moment, his attention focused almost
exclusively on the police and Mikhail. He finally notices something brushing
against his leg and turns back briefly, before returning his attention to
the scene around the fountain.
Shadow Eyes watches the cops and the blodd-stained young man intently, ears
flicking in nervousness.
Joe doesn't resist when Officier Lee's partner checks his vitals. "Lee, I
think we need an ambulance." The black officer nods, then continues
questioning Mikhail. "I see. Then you won't object to being searched for
weapons?"
Erik's long, gloved fingers close around the back of the bench as he leans
against it. He watches the activity from under the brim of his hat, eyes
restless behind the mask.
Steven glances at Mikhail before nervously shuffling his feet and then back at
Joe.
The backup officer turns toward the patrol car, walking briskly. He holsters
his gun loosely as he walks.
Mikhail lifts one shoulder. "I think it's a bit uncalled for, considering the
source of the complaint, to put me through such indignity, officer."
The officer smiles, though a bit of tension still leaks through, "Just for my
piece of mind. Unless you'd rather go to the station and leave a statement?"
Mikhail says "That would be fine with me, officer."
Officer Lee nods once. Though his shoulders untense, he doesn't allow himself
to relax. "Right this way, sir. We'll just wait for the amubulance to
arrive."
Steven pipes up, finally, "Excuse me, sir," he says to the police officer,
"but no one's asked for my statement yet." He moves a little closer, slowly.
Shadow Eyes looks up at Steven, then back over to the cops, flicking his ears.
Officer Lee turns to look at Steven. His black eyes flicker to the street,
then back again. Almost ignored, Joe just lies like a dead man. "Go ahead,
sir. Your name is...?"
Shadow Eyes watches Joe intently, trying to make up his mind to trot over and
sniff or not.
The brown-haired officer comes back. He says shortly, "On its way. The young
woman went down to the station."
"Steven," Steven says, "Steven MacDiarmud. I came here to eat my lunch and I
saw the man," pointing to Joe, "crouched over and this man," he points to
Mikhail, "trying to help him. I was worried, thought he looked in pain or
sick or something, so I started to come over and then this guy," another nod
to Mikhail, "asked me to phone the cops. So I shrugged and turned around to
find a phone going with the lady, because she seemed like she didn't know
where a phone was. And then when I returned here, that guy," Joe, "was on
the ground crying and carrying on, so I went over to him and then he started
to vomit everywhere -- mostly on that lady. She ran off and then I guess she
came back a few minutes later, hysterical." He gives a shrug. "I think she
just needs to calm down a little and think back on what happened. Things
were just going by so quickly, you know, that its hard even now to remember
everything exactly." He looks over to Joe, and says, "I just want him to be
okay."
Officer Lee nods once, making a couple of notes in a book he carries at his
waist. He hostlers his gun loosely to do so. Motioning to Erik and
Nicodemus, he asks, "Those guys around during this?"
Steven turns his head, really unaware that there were others around watching.
"I don't know, sir," he says to the officer, quietly.
Officer Lee nods again. He begins to walk toward Erik, leaving Mikhiel with
his counterpart.
Erik remains quiet still as the cop approaches, one hand still gripping the
back of the bench.
Shadow Eyes pads over to Erik and settles against a leg.
Steven turns around to look at the man the police officer is going to
question, arms crossed against his chest.
Erik startles slightly, looking down at the dog with a complete lack of
recognition.
Mikhail follows the officer quietly.
Shadow Eyes wags his tail in a friendly manner, and lolls his tounge.
Officer Lee inclines his head at the masked man. "Afternoon, sir."
-=> Officer Lee looks at you. <=-
Erik shifts his weight, obviously nervous. "Ah... h'lo."
Officer Lee motions with one hand. "You wear that for medical reasons?"
Erik's voice remains soft, not reaching far past himself, the officer, and the
dog. "Ah... yes."
Shadow Eyes looks up at the officer, and assumes a protective stance.
Officer Lee nods again, briskly. He says, "Did you see anything between this
man and the ill young man over there?"
Gloved fingers trace absently over the violin case at Erik's hip. "Very
little. When I... arrived, the lass was just storming out in anger. I do not
know what they said to each other." The Irish lilt's gotten rather thicker.
The other officer moves near to Joe again. He motions to Steven. "Can I see
some ID?"
"Sure," Steven says, moving that way, reaching into his back pocket. He pulls
out his wallet and shows the officer a driver's license from Missouri. "I
just moved here, officer."
Shadow Eyes relaxes as the officer moves away, and sits down in front of Erik.
The backup officer also looks to Mikhail, who is hovering rather nearby and
smiles with a hint of apology. "You too, sir?" He takes a moment to inspect
the driver's license.
You paged Shadow Eyes with 'Officer Lee is the one with us. I think.'.
Officer Lee mostly ignores the dog. He nods again, then says, "Can I see some
ID?"
Mikhail nods and takes out his wallet, opening it and handing it to the
Officer. It shows a Virginia driver's liscene, and a Defense Department ID
on the opposite side from the driver's liscene, though the second ID doesn't
indicate exactly what it is Mikhail does for said agency.
Erik stiffens, fingers gripping at the bench as though it were a lifeline.
"I..." He glances, helplessly, down at the dog, and thrn turns his raw gaze
back to the policeman. "I don't ha' any."
Officer Lee's eyes flicker, but he doesn't seem surprised. He nods. "What's
your name?"
"Erik Daae."
The brown-hair officer looks, then nods. "I'm Officer Jones. You guys might
not know, being from out of town, but this is a rough neighborhood." In the
distance, sirens are approaching.
Mikhail nods in response to the policeman.
Steven shakes his head, as he accepts his license back from the man. "I've
heard that, yes."
Officer Jones politely doesn't ask what the two men are doing here anyway,
then.
Officer Lee nods. "You from out of the country, Mr. Daae?
Erik shakes his head. "No, officer."
Officer Lee raises an eyebrow. "Just noticing your accent, there. You live
around here?"
Erik shifts his weight from one foot to the other. "Regan Hope Project," he
murmurs, eyes on the ground.
Holden makes his way down the disintegrating cement path, leaving the road
behind.
Officer Lee says "Ah. You have any id back there?"
Holden's Suzuki Sidekick swings to a stop streetside, visible beyond the
chain-link fence. A few moments later and Holden himself is heading into the
park. There's a duffel bag he's got at his side, like a gym bag of some sort.
Shadow Eyes senses "Erik's scent reflects his stress and nervousness. Quicker
heartbeat, breathing, etc. Things canine senses would, well, sense."
Erik shakes his head again at the policeman.
Officer Lee is talking to Erik on on side; Officer Jones is near a prone man,
with the other two Garou near him. An ambulance is pulling into the park
area, its siren stilled as it approaches.
Officer Lee says "Well now, that's rather interesting, Mr. Daae. You don't
have any ID, but you're an American. With that accent. Are you aware that
it's illegal not to possess any ID at all?"
Holden takes a survey of the scene and decides that maybe now isn't the best
of times for showing Steven his new geek toy. Like any other would-be
gawker, he settlers for leaning his weight against the outwardly bowing
fence and, well, gawking.
Steven smiles as Holden enters the park, he turns towards Officer Jones and
then looks back at Holden, speaking to the patrolman. "You going to need for
me to stick around or am I free to go?"
Erik cringes, moving a step back. "I... lost it." The tenor voice wavers
unsteadily; even if one can't see his face, the masked vagrant's a bad liar.
Shadow Eyes gets to his feet and shakes his ruff, and looks up at the officer.
Officer Jones pats his book, where he noted facts about both IDs. "If we need
you, we'll call. Thanks for your help."
Officer Lee nods, unconvinced. "Hm. Well, I think you should come downtown
with us too. Just to check on some things."
Steven nods gratefully and steals a sidelong glance at Mikhail before he heads
towards the Glass Walker, still grinning. "You won't believe what just
happened," he says as he approaches, dodging out the way of the EMTs.
Erik takes another step back. "I'd rather not, if you please, sir." Quiet
panic blooms in his voice and eyes.
Holden swings his bag from one hand to the next. "Let me guess," he says,
appraising the scene from a distance. "Some huge tentacled monster came out
of the river, and sucked several children down into the inky blackness of
the river?" A pause, and he adds almost conspiratorially to Steven, "You
won't believe how difficult it is to work that phrase into conversation,
'inky blackness'."
Officer Lee's hand slips toward his belt. "I'd rather you did. Come along
quietly, and everything will be fine." Behind the pair, Joe is being loaded
into the ambulance. He comes to life when they lift him for the stretcher,
struggling. He cries out, "No, don't take me back, no!" The officers start
and look toward the struggle.
Shadow Eyes moves between the cop and Erik, giving the man bolting room if he
needs it.
Steven starts to laugh, but stiffles it, turning his attention towards Joe, as
he is being put onto the stretcher.
Erik's nerve breaks. Whirling, the tall figure makes a run for it, coat-tails
flapping.
Shadow Eyes stumbles in front of the cop, knocking him to the ground.
Holden opens his mouth to ask another question, but the sudden commotion draws
his attention away.
Officer Lee falls to one knee, cursing. He levels a heavy back-hand slap at
the dog and hollers out, "Freeze!"
Shadow Eyes jumps on the cop and tries to lick him in the face..
Mikhail waits and watches quietly and impassively.
Officer Lee punches the dog, struggling back to his feet. Officer Jones turns
back from the commotion at the ambulence and pelts toward the fleeing
suspect.
Shadow Eyes yelps in a high barking noise and runs away, whining, in the same
direction as Erik.
Officer Lee waves his partner after the fleeing man. Jones, reassured that Lee
feels he's in control, does so. Officer Lee turns toward the car.
Officer Lee continues after Erik. Though the cop is quick, he's not gaining on
the huge Garou very quickly.
Officer Jones does, anyway. :)
Shadow Eyes tries to dodge between Officer Jones legs, tripping the man hard.
Boots pounding the ground, Erik makes a beeline for the edge of the park.
Officer Jones stumbles, but doesn't fall. He spits out, "Fuckhead." Slowing,
he pulls on his gun. "Freeze!"
Officer Lee has disappeared into the police car, apparently using the radio.
The EMT people have finally subdued Joe and gotten him in the back of the
vehicle.
Erik doesn't pause, looking back, or hesitate. He certainly doesn't freeze as
ordered.
Holden watches this little scene of Cops: St. Claire play out. Over by the
chain-link fence, he's not much in the way of anything.
Steven, too, watches silently, arms crossed. He glances over towards the
ambulance before it drives off and then back towards the fleeing vagrant.
The Gnawer, seeing the officer raise his gun, again attempt to divert him by
ramming him. Officer Jones, being a policeman but not stupid, changing the
line of fire of his gun as the dog charges. The rip of a shot tears the
afternoon air.
Shadow Eyes yips and goes down, bleeding from the gunshot, and tries to limp
off.
Erik escapes the park, still running full-out.

Intersection of Elson Avenue and 1st Street
Obvious exits:
North West Fountain South

A patrol cuts off the street ahead of Erik as he's running, another remains
not far behind him. Lights flash off the car as it comes to a sudden stop in
the street.
Erik skids to a halt, surrounded.
Cops spill out of the car, guns out needed or not, and order Erik to feeze as
they make their way towards him, "Hands up. I said up, now!" The other car
stops as it catches up from behind him and more cops come out.
Erik hesitates, then slowly raises his hands. His breathing rattles in his
chest, harsh and ragged from the sudden (and vain) exertion.
The closest one reaches him and orders him down on the ground, hands behind
his head, as his partner keeps his weapon trained on Erik. "The other two
nod and make a radio call in. As Erik moves, the first cop puts his weapon
away to approach and cuff him. "You have the right to remain silent. If you
give up that right, anything you say can and will be held against you in a
court of Law. You have the right to an attorney. If you cannot afford an
attorney, one will be appointed to you by the court. " etc.
Erik closes his eyes, moaning in quiet despair, but otherwise he makes no
noise. He's carrying no weapons, and the violine case contains just that --
a violin.
The cop finishes cuffing him and stands him up, "Now do you understand these
rights as I've read them to you?"
Erik nods mutely, head lowered and shoulders hunched.
Elan proceeds along First Street from the north.
Elan trots down the way, and sees Erik, with cops in attendance.
The cop then ducks Erik's head into the back of the car, closing the door. The
cops, both cars, then remain there for a few minutes talking amongst
themselves and on the radio before heading out.
Erik, for all his macabre appearance, gives the police extremely little
trouble, being apparently wrapped up in his own little cloud of despairing
panic.
Elan stays back, and winces as they push Erik into the car.
Elan stays back in the shadows and grimaces at Erik's treatment. He scratches
a stubbly chin and begins to plot how to spring the man...
The little meeting breaks up and the cops go back to their respective cars,
each pulling out one at a time.

[The cops take Erik back to the police station.]

As they take Erik out of the car, towards the Station, one of them makes an
offhand comment about erik's appearance, and how maybe he belongs in the
morgue there, but doesn't know it. The metis' appearance, at least a little,
has the officers more than a little disturbed and awkward. The sooner they
get this guy off their hands and into the detention officer's hands, the
better.
Erik flinches at the remarks, but doesn't reply to them. His eyes remain on
the ground.

Offices, 19th Precinct
The office section of the 19th Precinct House is in no better repair than the
lobby. Several desks, far more than should be in such a space, are jammed
together, creating makeshift work areas. Most of the desks are covered with
piles of paperwork, boxes of half eaten doughnuts and bagels, and styrofoam
cups half full of cold coffee. A few cops sit at their desks, typing on old,
battered computers, or even older, more battered typewriters for the few
hold-outs against technology, trying to stay abreast of their work. As you
wander through the room, you have to constantly step around paper bulwarks
that have been placed haphazardly in a futile attempt to clear desk space. A
few small fans try to keep the air moving in here, but they only serve to
send papers flying through the room.
The lobby lies to the southeast, the jail is to the northeast, and the Chief's
Office is to the west of here.

They go through the process of booking, the two officers glad to be out of it
once the paperwork is signed. The detention officer looks no more pleased
than the two arresting officers for having to take over. The process
includes fingerprinting and picture taking, and will include at least an
attempt to get Erik to take the mask off.
Erik resists attempts to get him to remove the mask, and for the first time
actually seems dangerous, like an animal that would rather flee, but is
cornered.
Erik's hands cause a bit of a stir during fingerprinting. They're thin,
skeletal even, the fingers spidery and the skin an unhealthy pallid color.
The officers, even more disturbed by the hands, and not wanting to catch
whaever this creep might give them, eventually give up on the mask and take
the picture with it. No doubt they'll get in trouble later, but that might
be better than going through this anyway. They throw Erik into a cell by
himself when they're done.

Jail, 19th Precinct
The Jail is cold and utilitarian. The lights are dim, the walls made out of
cold, cracked concrete. Steel bars separate the jail cubicles, and
everything is painted a ugly shade of green. A small desk sits near the
door, a place for an officer to sit and watch the inmates. The room smells
of old beer, vomit and stale urine, residues of the inmates.
The offices of the 19th Precinct are to the southwest of here.

It's at lest four hours before officers come to take Erik to a room with two
men in it. The small interrogation room is grey-painted cinder walls and a
black metal door with a square plate-glass window. One of the men stands at
the back of the room, smoking a cigarette, while the other is slouched in a
metal fold out chair, one of four by the chipped wood table.
Erik shivers, wrapping his arms around his torso, hugging himself. His head
turns this way and that as he looks around, clearly apprehensive.
The man sitting, straightens a little and the other turns to face the door
Erik enters, escorted by two guards. They seat him and then go out closing
the door. "What's your name?" asks the seated one, taking out a pen and the
pad that sits among a few other papers and an opened brief-case on the
table. He looks about bored enough to carve initials into the table, and
like he'd rather be anywhere else right now.
"Erik Daae." The accent's faint now; the Fianna's made an effort to calm
himself, or at least control himself.
The man grimaces a little as he gets a better look at Erik's face, and looks
away. "Spell it?" He drones.
Erik murmurs, "D - A - A - E."
He writes as the other one begins to walk the back of the room, almost in a
bored pace. "Mr. Daae, are you a citizen of the United States?"
Erik keeps his eyes on the table. "I was born here, sir."
He asks, "Where? And while you're at it, gimme your social security number."
You say "Massachusets, near Boston. And... I don't know it, sir."
The sitting man gives Erik a look that suggests 'I've heard that before,
"Don't have it," he repeats, and nods. He writes again, as the other man
stubs out the cigarrette in an ashtray. "Where do you live, Mr. Daae?" the
first one asks, not looking up from the papers.
Erik hugs himself a bit tighter. "The Regan Hope Project."
The seated man nods, "You have your social security card there, Mr. Daae?"
From his expression as he looks up, he truly expects a no.
Erik shakes his head, shoulders hunching up even more, as though he knows very
well the consequences of that answer.
The man nods, writing again, "Uh huh." It's a moment before the man asks
another question, "Do you have a license, or any other form of
identification? Birth certificate?"
Erik hesitates for a few seconds, then shakes his head again.
The man sets the pen down. "No license, no ID, no birth certificate. But you
were born here. I see. How long have you been in St. Claire, Mr. Daae? and
where'd you come here from?"
Erik's voice is miserable. "A week or so. I came directly from my home near
Boston, sir."
He begins writing again, but only briefly, then asks, "Former address then?"
Erik pauses, then recites an address in a small town in Massachusetts, a
street address.
The man looks up, a little surprised, but that wavers even as he writes down
the address, asking for spelling if needed. He asks, as he writes, "this
town the same one you say you were born in?"
Erik murmurs, "Aye."
"I assume," the man says, "That some record of your birth will be there then."
It's a statement he doesn't really believe in, and the way it's said
suggests he knows Erik doesn't either. He then asks, "This address, anyone
here who would still kow you?"
Erik flinches slightly. "They'll know."
The second man, silent til now, catches the flinch, and flashes a weasely
little grin, "You have a record or something Mr. Daae?"
Erik shakes his head slowly. "Black sheep," he mutters.
The first man sets the papers in his briefcase, giving Erik a dubious look.
The second man gives a little chuckle and a sneer. "You'll be detained Mr.
Daae, til we can check your records. If you're telling the truth
everything'll be fine." He calls the guard.
Erik nods, his manner quiet and resigned.