City Seat Circle(#162Rs)

	The focal center of the city, the two lengths of Main Street meet 
here, forming a circular drive around which a number of important 
public buildings are situated. Erected in the small park in the center 
of Circle Drive is Beacon Harbor's Lady of Progress, a twenty five foot 
tall statue of a woman clad in armor, sword upraised, pointing to the 
brave new future for the city and it's inhabitants. A small fountain is 
positioned in front of the statue, and a number of benches are 
scattered around the small park, providing lots of places to sit; for 
lunch, to relax, or for the disenfranchised. Beneath the park is a vast 
underground structure that provides parking for the many government 
buildings that line the outer rim of the circle. Circle Drive splits 
off in three directions from here, northeast toward the financial 
district, northwest towards the commercial district, and southwest 
toward the monolithic residential district.


Blake is seated on the rim of the fountain, facing the statue and 
deeply engrossed in drawing something in his sketchbook, which seems to 
amuse him somewhat.

Ray is running on even more caffeine and bad temper than usual as he 
stalks into the Circle. He's just out *looking* for trouble. And there, 
sitting on the fountain, is...Blake Sullivan. Perfect. He changes 
direction and strolls over there with that mild swagger all cops adopt 
when they know they're right.

Blake is used to ignoring people wandering close to him when he's 
drawing but this isn't ordinary wandering...in fact, he'd bet anything 
this was a cop. He shuts his sketchbook with a snap and waits.

Ray is also good at That Tone. "Blake Sullivan," he says. It's not a 
question. "And yet there's nobody running and yelling. What *can* be 
wrong?"

Blake looks up. "It'sch my day off."

Ray chuckles. "You're funny. I ran into a coupla friends of yours the 
other day. What *is* it about you that makes people dislike you so 
much, Sullivan?"

Blake gives Ray a look of mock-innocence. "Oh, gee, I don't know," he 
says in his best sarcastic tone. "God knowsch I'm *perfect* in every 
way."

Ray tips his head to one side and just looks at Blake for a longish 
time. Trying to work out which way to jump. "Uh-huh. What're you doin' 
there?" He indicates the sketchbook with a nod.

Blake glances at the sketchbook disinterestedly. "Nothing. Told you 
it'sch my day off."

Ray thinks, the hell with it. If I'm gonna pick on someone I might as 
well do it properly. He holds out a hand. "Let me see."

Blake, who normally would cheerfully hand over his sketchbook, refuses 
to do so with a cop. "Like hell!" he blurts. "Thisch isch *my* hobby, 
get your own." Bet anything he just wants to laugh at everything in 
there.

Ray manages to look deeply ticked off while inwardly rejoicing. He 
wants an argument. This keeps getting better. "Hey, come on, Sullivan. 
Hand it over. Why, you drawin' ladies who object to it again?"

Blake doesn't hand the book over. "Why, you want to confischcate schaid 
picturesch for your perschonal filesch?"

Ray is easily baffled by long words, but 'confiscate' is one he knows 
well and it doesn't even slow him down. "Just give me that book, 
Sullivan, right now. Why are you so reluctant, huh? Hidin' somethin'?"

Blake rolls his eyes. "Go to hell, Kowalschki," he grunts. "I don't 
have to give you anything. Quit waschting your time on me and go do 
schomething uscheful, okay?"

That's a bit too close to the truth and Ray snaps. "You're a public 
menace, Sullivan, everyone knows it. You spend more time in that 
station than I do, now quit bein' a wise-ass." He makes a grab for the 
book.

Blake isn't about to engage in a tug-of war right here in the Circle 
with a grown man (well, normally he would be game but not today) and 
lets Ray have the book. "Well, it'sch nische to know that my work 
schervesch asch schuch an important schorsche of entertainment," he 
grunts.

Ray pauses before opening the book to squint at Blake and translate his 
words. It's trickier than it seems. "Oh, yeah. You and the Mayoral 
Brass Band in this town, Sullivan." He flips the sketchbook open and 
leafs idly through.

There's all sorts of dragons, some gargoyle-looking things, something 
that looks like it may have been a unicorn before it was eaten by a 
griffin...the last few pages are of the statue in the Circle, albeit, 
she's been 'altered' in various ways.

Ray can't help but smirk. Though some of these really aren't bad. He 
glances up at the statue, but without his glasses he really can't see 
it all that well. "Gee, think the town council would approve?"

Blake waits patiently enough for the book to be returned. He doesn't 
look at Ray, staring out over the Circle with his arms folded. "Like I 
care."

Ray can't find anything illegal in there, disappointingly, and flips 
the book closed again. He holds it out to Blake. "You don't care? I 
thought you were movin' into the public eye, or whatever. With the 
dragon...thing." He gestures vaguely. "On your way up, I thought." 
Sarcasm? Possibly.

Blake takes it politely without snatching it or whatever. He frowns at 
Ray. "What, you guysch at the schtaschion having betsch on how hard I'm 
gonna fail or schomething?"

It's Ray's turn not to look at Blake. He smirks at a distant building. 
"Hey, forty dollars is a lot of money. And it's almost July already."

"Maybe you'd like a loan." Blake stands up then. "Well I'm schure 
you'll schtill be able to afford the premium channelsch even if you 
losche," he says flatly, and turns to go.

Ray clears his throat in that pointed way which means there's something 
important coming. "So...Funk and Maguire. They're really out to 
getcha." He narrows his eyes slightly at Blake. "In fact, they seem to 
think you disturb the peace. A lot."

Blake glances back at Ray. "Oh, no, I don't do anything," he says 
flatly. "I think they're juscht trying to win the free t-schirt for 
hauling me in more than anybody elsche."

Ray is honestly surprised. He knows about that? Yipe. "Yeah, I'm sure 
that's all it is. They just don't like you. They don't like you to the 
point that they've had a coupla warrants issued." He waits to see what 
Blake has to say. He's personally sure the charges (disturbing the 
peace) are so much BS, but he's hardup for entertainment.

Blake pauses at that, silent for a moment. Then he says: "Well, they're 
the Law. Can't argue with the Law. Schtupid geeksch. I'm on their 
schide, you know."

Ray raises his eyebrows. "You're on their side?" he repeats, amused. 
"Gimme a break, Sullivan. You wouldn't know what side to be on if.." 
The metaphor fails him and he covers by switching subjects. "A warrant 
is a warrant, though."

Blake shrugs. "Well, they know where to find me, then," he says 
boredly. "It'sch not asch if I reschischt arrescht--Well, not anymore." 
He turns to go, again.

Ray catches at Blake's arm. "And that's a good thing, cuz guess what? 
You have the right to remain silent. You have the right to an attorney 
- come on, Sullivan, you know the words, sing with me."

Blake looks at Ray's hand in only moderate surprise. "Schorry I can't 
schwear on the schilent part," he says. "You gonna tell me what I did 
thisch time? Or do I have to get it out of the warden?"

Ray has to pause and think about it for a moment. 
"...andifyoudonothaveanattorneyonewillbeprovidedforyou," he finishes. 
"You got two outstanding incidences of disturbing the peace. And one 
of...threatening an officer?" That sounds wrong even to him. "Not my 
problem."

Blake shrugs and goes along with Ray. "And here I wasch wondering what 
I wasch going to go today. Oh hey, you schtill drive that crappy green 
two-door with the plaid upholschtery?"

Ray has something of a change in attitude now he's actually got the 
guy. "Hey, that car is a collector's item. And it's not plaid, 
it's...patterned."

Blake nods, "Gotcha. Scho what t-schirt schize you wear, Kowalschki?"