Save the day {DRAKE}

[alessa daniela mercanti]

Alessa rarely ever visited the business district. She had never really had a reason to head down there. As a university student, her world mainly consisted of the campus, the police station, and the restaurants downtown. Other than that, the island remained unvisited by Alessa.

A short time ago, however, she had received a panicked phone call from her father. Michele had rambled worriedly to his daughter, first in choppy English and then in rapid-fire Italian, about his problems. Alessa had tuned him out once she realized it was financial (and therefore boring). She heard the words "dependent", "twenty-five", "wrong", and "jail", and figured it was probably a big deal. She was unable to soothe his fears and caved to his worry, promising to talk to a professional and ensure that Michele would not be deported for tax fraud.

This was why Alessa had traipsed all the way down to the business district. She knew there was a plethora of financial and other official offices, and her hope was to just find an accountant, get an answer, and hightail it out of there before boredom made her head explode. Walking into a promising-looking building, she took the elevator up to the "tax and legal" floor, looking around for a useful man in a suit. Or woman. She wasn't picky.

After a few short minutes of wandering, it occurred to her that she did know someone in that office--a certain former accountant at the OIPD. Readjusting her bag, she walked around again and eventually found his desk. Crossing her arms, Alessa leaned against the cubicle-like wall that was there and smirked. "Well if it isn't Financial Batman himself."

[drake raphael elliot]

Yes, it was true that Drake had resigned at the OIPD in favor of a desk job in a private accounting firm. He had been thinking about this decision a lot over the past week, just as everyone down at the station had assured him he would. Unlike the other things they'd assured him of, however, Drake did not regret it. Sure, there were times of the year when doing people's tax returns would have him working 60-70 hours a week, but those times were scheduled, reasonable, and something he could count on. Working for the police had hours too erratic and too frequently too long. Despite the fact that he was now looking at the tax returns of idiots instead of criminals, he was much happier sitting behind this desk with his boring job than he had recently been at his "exciting" job at the department.

Since he hadn't been gone long, though, he had been dreading seeing anyone from the station around town. He'd been avoiding the popular police hangouts, but he'd thought he'd be safe at work. When he heard the footsteps approaching his office, he thought nothing of it. People stopped by to see him all the time, even if they hadn't scheduled an appointment like they should have, and though it annoyed him a little, it wasn't unusual. When he saw who it was, however, he clenched his teeth. An intern from the OIPD was the last person he wanted to walk up to his desk and he was going to have a hard time not showing it.

"Good afternoon," he said, having only a vague idea of who she was and therefore sans comeback. "Can I help you with something?"

[alessa daniela mercanti]

Alessa was not really fazed by Drake's less-than-warm greeting. Every time she had seen him at the police department he had looked like he was teetering on the borderline of pissed off. Add to that his spastic little buddy, and Alessa figured that Drake was not a cheerful, sunny person.

Taking his question as an acceptance of her presence, she sat down and tossed her hair over her shoulder, leaning a bit towards his desk, flashing him her most friendly smile. "I have a financial problem that I'm pretty sure you would be useful for," she said, then paused. "I mean...I'm skipping the small talk because I don't really peg you as a small talk person. And frankly, small talk is boring."

Normally Alessa would be in full-fledge flirt mode, but something about Drake's demeanor warned her not to break into that immediately, if only to avoid being thrown out of his office.

[drake raphael elliot]

Drake set his pen down and folded his hands on top of his chart, regarding her blankly as she spoke. He didn't know why she felt the need to clarify on the smalltalk, considering he was an accountant and specifically there to answer her questions, not to have a conversation. Still, he knew that finances tended to make people nervous and nervous people often rambled. Such was the curse of being able to fix people's problems.

"Yes," he said, flicking his eyes toward her empty hands. Most people came empty-handed unless they needed him to look something over, which Drake thought terribly irresponsible. Note-taking was an important, but out of fashion, skill. "That is why most people go to accountants." He ignored her small-talk diatribe, finding that talk a little bit too small for his liking, and leaned back until he was sitting upright instead of hunched over his desk. "What can I do for you?"

[alessa daniela mercanti]

"Technically it's not help for me, it's help for my father," she began. "He lives in DC. He called me today panicking about dependents and tax fraud. From his ramblings, I'm guessing he may be worried he can't claim me as a dependent or something."

Lightly shrugging her shoulders, Alessa leaned back and crossed one leg over the other. "I'm not sure why he's having a problem now. He never had this issue with any of my brothers."