You know what I like about Canadians? They're real easy to elbow out of the way.

[ooc: *wails* Oh so very BELATED post. But so much fun to write! XD Ray reminds me of a 2D cartoon... In response to THIS..that shall be linked to at some point]


Ray had to admit the velvet was a nice touch.

He knew he was screwed when the watches terrified him more than the sentiment though.

He'd tugged at the bow with more than a passing interest, glanced furtively around the bullpen to see whether the sender was watching, whether anybody was watching for that matter, and frowned as the material fell away and lay resting on top of his open file.

He was tempted to stand up and yell to see if somebody else was expecting a delivery, maybe it'd been stuck on the wrong desk; but Ray'd be damned if he was letting a gift go without a fight. No label, no name tag, no address, no nothing. Finders keepers in his eyes.

Until said eyes practically popped right out of his little Italian head when he opened the top box. His first reaction was to whistle, high and long - swaaaanky waaaatch - but it got caught somewhere in his throat when he saw the face and fizzled out into some squeaky mouse-like sound. The eye-popping ensued, stuffing of said watch back into said box before anyone could see it, more conspicuous glancing around in case he was on TV.

( And suddenly, he was very aware that this present was meant for him. )

“No, Ma! I’m not sayin’ that. I’m saying- no, why can’t Frannie do it? In a coupla days, yeah. She can’t need that long to- it’s the Police Academy, Ma, not a fashion show. She can spare a few minutes, I’m sur- I’m working! Look, I am the real detective here, okay? I havta detect…things. Frannie’s not- yeah, I know, I know. Two cops is somethin’ to be proud of, gotcha. But listen, an hour away from the mirror is not gonna ruin her career. Ma! No! I got work to do. I have cases that just came in. What is it? It’s uh, a uh, this runaway uh, politician man an- I-”

The sigh rattles his chest.

“Fine. I said fine! Okay.”

He grabs a chewed up pencil from the pot on his desk and puts lead to paper.

“Gimme the list.”

“Pork chop, Vecchio?”

“Shut up. No, not you, Ma, you keep going. Yeah, yes I’ve written down the veal.” He covers the speaker with his fingers and glares at Huey. “Shouldn’t you be dabambam-shhh-shing off with your partner somewhere?”