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Contact Post
May. 14th, 2020 12:33 pmIf you would like to contact Admiral Calavicci or his player, leave a message.
COMSAR Permission Post
May. 14th, 2020 12:01 pmThe Commission on Mutant/Special American Relations, Bureau of Research and Investigation New York Division (COMSAR) will be out interviewing and observing agents of The Company and their known associates.
Due to the primarily civilian makeup, most interviews will not be overt. Agents of The Company will be observed from afar by COMSAR sponsored representatives, primarily satellite government employees, including some covert agents. In most cases, it will not be obvious they are observing your character.
Admiral Calavicci (![[livejournal.com profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/external/lj-userinfo.gif)
alavicci_cay) and Commander Thrace (ace_thray) will be conducting "open interviews" at some point, but until then, they will also be posing as civilians and trying to get a feel for as many Company agents as possible.
We're asking that anyone willing to give a little "insider information" do so here. It does not need to be serious, useful, threatening or helpful in any way. COMSAR appreciates information that would make them appear to "know all the right stuff," but obviously that's not always what's going to get the best reaction every time.
A great example: So-and-so's mom caught George Costanza eating a pastry out of the trash. Not the most damning thing in the world, sure, but it's probably something COMSAR wouldn't mind mentioning, should Mr. Costanza start getting a little mouthy.
As always, please post any questions, comments, or permissions here. If, for any reason, you don't want to openly post your permissions here, feel free to PMalavicci_cay or ace_thray at any time.
Due to the primarily civilian makeup, most interviews will not be overt. Agents of The Company will be observed from afar by COMSAR sponsored representatives, primarily satellite government employees, including some covert agents. In most cases, it will not be obvious they are observing your character.
Admiral Calavicci (
alavicci_cay) and Commander Thrace (ace_thray) will be conducting "open interviews" at some point, but until then, they will also be posing as civilians and trying to get a feel for as many Company agents as possible.We're asking that anyone willing to give a little "insider information" do so here. It does not need to be serious, useful, threatening or helpful in any way. COMSAR appreciates information that would make them appear to "know all the right stuff," but obviously that's not always what's going to get the best reaction every time.
A great example: So-and-so's mom caught George Costanza eating a pastry out of the trash. Not the most damning thing in the world, sure, but it's probably something COMSAR wouldn't mind mentioning, should Mr. Costanza start getting a little mouthy.
As always, please post any questions, comments, or permissions here. If, for any reason, you don't want to openly post your permissions here, feel free to PM
alavicci_cay or ace_thray at any time.![[livejournal.com profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/external/lj-community.gif){kind=small}
microcosm_rp
Message Unheard | Part 3
Sep. 20th, 2010 03:42 pmTraffic into Brooklyn was still traffic at almost 6:00 AM. It took just as long as any other day, much to the Admiral's dismay. He didn't even give himself time to settle into his desk before he flipped on his computer and waited for it to boot.
He was antsy. Starbuck had replied to his text message to inform him she was on her way. It only made him more antsy as he replied, "here now. See you then."
As Al waited for his e-mail to load, he contemplated what he was going to tell Kara. On one hand, he was a good solider and knew how to take orders. On the other hand, though, he was feeling a bit sick of all the bullshit, and couldn't help but wonder if the Commander didn't feel the same way sometimes. Still, it wasn't just his career in jeopardy -- to involve Kara would certainly put her into the spotlight (exactly where she didn't need to be.)
Gnawing on that ever-present cigar, he decided he'd just have to cross that bridge when he came to it. He didn't think it would be long.
His e-mail flooded in, mostly junk and government communiqués. At the very top were two e-mails tagged "high priority." It took the Admiral no time to decide that government was only extra efficient when they were screwing someone over.
Al skimmed the first e-mail, the majority of which contained information about the investigation that would be launched against him. It detailed some of the names involved and he wasn't surprised to recognize more than a few of them. The e-mail also provided him an imminent hearing date. He snorted. Leave it to the Navy to put him on trial before they'd ascertained whether he'd done wrong, or not.
In an effort to put off reading the second e-mail, the Admiral checked his watch and noted that Thrace must have been running a little later than expected. It made sense, as traffic only worsened as it grew closer to normal work hours, but it didn't help him to feel any less at ease.
It's just like a band-aid, he told himself. The quicker it is, the less painful it'll be. He wasn't so sure he believed it.
Finally, unable to stem his concern and worry, Al opened the second e-mail and skimmed the important bits. For the most part, it detailed information about Commander Thrace's reassignment. It was giving him heartburn just to think of it.
Not willing to leave at least until he checked in with Kara, the Admiral printed out the e-mail and took the opportunity to get up and place it on her desk. It did nothing to remove his anxiousness, and when the door to the office came open, he found himself pulling back from Thrace's desk as if he'd just placed on bomb on it.
And, in a way, he kinda felt like he had.
He was antsy. Starbuck had replied to his text message to inform him she was on her way. It only made him more antsy as he replied, "here now. See you then."
As Al waited for his e-mail to load, he contemplated what he was going to tell Kara. On one hand, he was a good solider and knew how to take orders. On the other hand, though, he was feeling a bit sick of all the bullshit, and couldn't help but wonder if the Commander didn't feel the same way sometimes. Still, it wasn't just his career in jeopardy -- to involve Kara would certainly put her into the spotlight (exactly where she didn't need to be.)
Gnawing on that ever-present cigar, he decided he'd just have to cross that bridge when he came to it. He didn't think it would be long.
His e-mail flooded in, mostly junk and government communiqués. At the very top were two e-mails tagged "high priority." It took the Admiral no time to decide that government was only extra efficient when they were screwing someone over.
Al skimmed the first e-mail, the majority of which contained information about the investigation that would be launched against him. It detailed some of the names involved and he wasn't surprised to recognize more than a few of them. The e-mail also provided him an imminent hearing date. He snorted. Leave it to the Navy to put him on trial before they'd ascertained whether he'd done wrong, or not.
In an effort to put off reading the second e-mail, the Admiral checked his watch and noted that Thrace must have been running a little later than expected. It made sense, as traffic only worsened as it grew closer to normal work hours, but it didn't help him to feel any less at ease.
It's just like a band-aid, he told himself. The quicker it is, the less painful it'll be. He wasn't so sure he believed it.
Finally, unable to stem his concern and worry, Al opened the second e-mail and skimmed the important bits. For the most part, it detailed information about Commander Thrace's reassignment. It was giving him heartburn just to think of it.
Not willing to leave at least until he checked in with Kara, the Admiral printed out the e-mail and took the opportunity to get up and place it on her desk. It did nothing to remove his anxiousness, and when the door to the office came open, he found himself pulling back from Thrace's desk as if he'd just placed on bomb on it.
And, in a way, he kinda felt like he had.
Message Unheard | Part 2
Sep. 19th, 2010 08:12 pmThe sandals were rubbing out raw skin between her lacquer-chipped toes, but she knew couldn't stop. She didn't look back. She didn't want to. Armed with knowledge she was not meant to keep, Doctor Tina Martinez-O'Ferrell was swaying for her life across an expensive country club.
It was dark. The golf course was empty, devoid of all signs of human life. Somewhere in the distance, sprinklers tat-tatted, but that was the only sign of civilization.
Tina stuck near to the treeline, her arms pulled close to her chest. She just needed to find a telephone. One call was all it would take, because as soon as Al heard she was alive, he'd be there to take her home. It was a warm, blissful thought that kept her moving.
Not much farther, she tried to convince herself. Not much farther and you'll be safe.
When at last Martinez-O'Ferrell found herself a line of communication, it was outside an all-night convenience store off the highway. No one seemed particularly interested in offering their assistance, especially since her clothes were worn and ratty.
It was nearly dawn when some early-riser on their way to work finally allowed her the use of their cellphone.
----------------------------------------------------
"Hello?"
Al looked at the clock. 5:27 AM. Silence answered him from the other end of the telephone. He grumbled and pulled the phone from his ear, checking the caller ID. "Unknown Number" glared back at him and he sighed.
"Hello?" He paused to listen, but the absence of sound remained on the line. "Look, it's five in the morning and I've got work in a coupla' hours, so why don't you take your wrong number and sho--"
"Al." The voice on the other side was shaking. Barely there.
Any vestiges of sleepiness and confusion were stripped away. The Admiral sat up in bed, his heart racing. There was no doubt in his mind who owned the voice. "Tina! Tina, baby, where are you?"
A sob followed. "Oh, god, Al, I don't know!"
Calavicci bit back the urge to stand, dress, get out the door. He needed to get the facts. "It's okay, just calm down, all right?" He paused, but only long enough to register that Tina was listening and not panicking. "Can you tell me anything? What's the climate like?"
"I think-- I think it's New York, but I can't--"
"Upstate?" The Admiral tensed, but told himself it might be a coincidence. "Could it be upstate New York?
"I-- maybe. It's almost, like, dawn, and I was on this golf course and..." Tina's voice shook until she descended into more sobs.
Al swallowed hard. He wasn't sure there was ever a time he felt more helpless than when a woman was crying, worse yet when there was nothing he could do. "Oh, baby, don't cry, please don't cry. I'm coming, okay? I'm getting dressed right now, and I'm gonna come and get you and everything will be all right. I promise." When there was no reply, the Admiral clenched the phone tighter. "You got that, Tina, honey?"
The receiver crackled to life and Al was bolstered by his girlfriend's conviction. "You'd better, 'cause I, like, totally smell and I could use a change of cl-- hey!"
The clatter on the other side of the line made Al stand. "Tina?"
"No! No, don't!" It was distant, farther away from the phone than it should have been.
"Tina!"
The racket ceased almost immediately, replaced with a dial tone that sent chills down Al's spine.
He felt cold. Angry. The receiver came down onto its base with so much force, the whole phone crashed off the nightstand and hit the floor. "Ziggy!"
The usually sultry voice of his computer companion sounded strained as it poured forth from the speakers on his computer desk. "I am locating the source of the call now, Admiral."
"Good." It was all he could say. Hearing Tina's voice had sent his heart into overdrive, and now that he knew she was in trouble, his hands wouldn't stop shaking, either. "I'm going to the office and then I'm going upstate unless you tell me otherwise."
Al interpreted the lack of response from the computer as a sign that Ziggy was working every circuit toward locating their missing friend and retrieved his cellphone on his way back to his closet. He had to try more than once, but Al finally managed a short message to Kara -- a simple "Tina's alive, but probably not for long."
It was dark. The golf course was empty, devoid of all signs of human life. Somewhere in the distance, sprinklers tat-tatted, but that was the only sign of civilization.
Tina stuck near to the treeline, her arms pulled close to her chest. She just needed to find a telephone. One call was all it would take, because as soon as Al heard she was alive, he'd be there to take her home. It was a warm, blissful thought that kept her moving.
Not much farther, she tried to convince herself. Not much farther and you'll be safe.
When at last Martinez-O'Ferrell found herself a line of communication, it was outside an all-night convenience store off the highway. No one seemed particularly interested in offering their assistance, especially since her clothes were worn and ratty.
It was nearly dawn when some early-riser on their way to work finally allowed her the use of their cellphone.
----------------------------------------------------
"Hello?"
Al looked at the clock. 5:27 AM. Silence answered him from the other end of the telephone. He grumbled and pulled the phone from his ear, checking the caller ID. "Unknown Number" glared back at him and he sighed.
"Hello?" He paused to listen, but the absence of sound remained on the line. "Look, it's five in the morning and I've got work in a coupla' hours, so why don't you take your wrong number and sho--"
"Al." The voice on the other side was shaking. Barely there.
Any vestiges of sleepiness and confusion were stripped away. The Admiral sat up in bed, his heart racing. There was no doubt in his mind who owned the voice. "Tina! Tina, baby, where are you?"
A sob followed. "Oh, god, Al, I don't know!"
Calavicci bit back the urge to stand, dress, get out the door. He needed to get the facts. "It's okay, just calm down, all right?" He paused, but only long enough to register that Tina was listening and not panicking. "Can you tell me anything? What's the climate like?"
"I think-- I think it's New York, but I can't--"
"Upstate?" The Admiral tensed, but told himself it might be a coincidence. "Could it be upstate New York?
"I-- maybe. It's almost, like, dawn, and I was on this golf course and..." Tina's voice shook until she descended into more sobs.
Al swallowed hard. He wasn't sure there was ever a time he felt more helpless than when a woman was crying, worse yet when there was nothing he could do. "Oh, baby, don't cry, please don't cry. I'm coming, okay? I'm getting dressed right now, and I'm gonna come and get you and everything will be all right. I promise." When there was no reply, the Admiral clenched the phone tighter. "You got that, Tina, honey?"
The receiver crackled to life and Al was bolstered by his girlfriend's conviction. "You'd better, 'cause I, like, totally smell and I could use a change of cl-- hey!"
The clatter on the other side of the line made Al stand. "Tina?"
"No! No, don't!" It was distant, farther away from the phone than it should have been.
"Tina!"
The racket ceased almost immediately, replaced with a dial tone that sent chills down Al's spine.
He felt cold. Angry. The receiver came down onto its base with so much force, the whole phone crashed off the nightstand and hit the floor. "Ziggy!"
The usually sultry voice of his computer companion sounded strained as it poured forth from the speakers on his computer desk. "I am locating the source of the call now, Admiral."
"Good." It was all he could say. Hearing Tina's voice had sent his heart into overdrive, and now that he knew she was in trouble, his hands wouldn't stop shaking, either. "I'm going to the office and then I'm going upstate unless you tell me otherwise."
Al interpreted the lack of response from the computer as a sign that Ziggy was working every circuit toward locating their missing friend and retrieved his cellphone on his way back to his closet. He had to try more than once, but Al finally managed a short message to Kara -- a simple "Tina's alive, but probably not for long."
Message Unheard | Part 1
Sep. 17th, 2010 06:19 pm "Al, this has got to stop."
Rear Admiral Albert Calavicci (Al to most of his friends,) hid his displeasure behind a well-timed swipe of his hand. "It's not going to, Rich. It can't. I can't." He stared down at his beer, not willing to look across the table and betray himself any more than he already had.
Vice Admiral Richard Long had agreed to meet Calavicci at the bar as a favor. They were having an official conversation in an unofficial manner. Thankfully, neither man had to answer to many people.
With an exasperated sigh, the Vice Admiral slapped his palm flat on the table. Everything jumped, Al included. "This is government money, Al! You can't fuck around with government money!"
Al neglected to note that nearly all government money passed around Washington was fucked with in some manner or another, but still kept it in mind. "This is a government matter. Why shouldn't I use government money?"
The man across from Calavicci looked appalled. He leaned forward, and in the process, glanced at their surroundings to ensure they hadn't garnered any unwanted attention. "Jesus, Al, you can't be serious. This is not a government matter, this is you chasing your libido!" His last word descended into a hissing whisper with fangs like a cobra.
Al shrugged wanly. "That's just your opinion." He ignored the huffing and puffing across the table, entirely certain his companion was going to blow a gasket any second. Long was younger than Calavicci by several years, but time hadn't been nearly as kind to him. His face, craggy and wrinkled, reminded the older man of an atlas, filled with worn river cut valleys and weather-beaten mountains.
"Opinion? My opinion, Al? You are fucking her, aren't you?" Rich looked even older when he was angry.
Al winced, and then shot a cold glare across the table. "Christ, have a little tact, Rich." Of course, the irony of his statement was not lost on either man; Al was never much of a proponent of tact himself. "This is my girlfriend we're talkin' about."
Admiral Long shook his head and sat back in his seat, crossing his lithe arms stubbornly across his stomach. "Exactly." He let the word hang until Al knew where he was going next. "Your girlfriend, and therefore, not a government matter."
"Look, I don't care if you're getting heat from the top, Rich. You've seen the recon. She's out there somewhere, and until we find her, I'm not going to stop."
"Al, please. I'm asking you to reconsider. As a friend." Softening his demeanor did nothing to return Richard's face to its formerly loose expression.
Calavicci held his gaze and held his ground without hesitation. "I'm sorry, sir, but I can't." As if there weren't years of friendship between them, suddenly Al was a stranger, pitching straight and strong in his conviction and delivery. "This is about more than just Tina. There's something here, and I've got a very bad feeling that we're all going to regret not paying more attention."
Rich was silent for a long time. He considered the last of his beer, considered his long-time friendship with Al, and considered his career, all before replying. "It's not your decision to make. Or mine."
Al looked stoic. His back straight, he nodded. "Yes, sir."
The pause between them stretched like taffy. Admiral Long finished his beer, Admiral Calavicci did nothing. Finally, the silence broke and Long coughed before his opener. "They're redirecting COMSAR's focus. Details are coming to your e-mail early next week. You're going to just have to keep your head down and hope for the best, all right?"
The room seemed to darken, but Calavicci remained impassive. "Yes, sir."
"And they want Thrace reassigned."
Caught by surprise, Al gaped and grasped for words that weren't there. It was hard not to look stricken. "Sir?"
Rich sighed. He had expected this, even if his superiors had told him it wouldn't be an issue. For as long as he had known Al, the man had been extremely loyal and devoted to those closest him. It only made sense he would bulk against the Commander's transfer. "It's got to be done. You can't expect the United States government to keep funding your little playhouse. You've caused more trouble than you've managed to prevent. She's your subordinate, not your friend."
"Last I checked, it was possible to be both." The chill in his voice surprised even Al as he stood from the table.
"Don't walk away, Al! You should have expected this!" The Vice Admiral got to his feet but made no move to stop Calavicci. When Al was almost to the door, Long let out one last warning, "All the favors in the world won't help if you don't make this right, Admiral. Think about your career!"
Al didn't get the message.
Rear Admiral Albert Calavicci (Al to most of his friends,) hid his displeasure behind a well-timed swipe of his hand. "It's not going to, Rich. It can't. I can't." He stared down at his beer, not willing to look across the table and betray himself any more than he already had.
Vice Admiral Richard Long had agreed to meet Calavicci at the bar as a favor. They were having an official conversation in an unofficial manner. Thankfully, neither man had to answer to many people.
With an exasperated sigh, the Vice Admiral slapped his palm flat on the table. Everything jumped, Al included. "This is government money, Al! You can't fuck around with government money!"
Al neglected to note that nearly all government money passed around Washington was fucked with in some manner or another, but still kept it in mind. "This is a government matter. Why shouldn't I use government money?"
The man across from Calavicci looked appalled. He leaned forward, and in the process, glanced at their surroundings to ensure they hadn't garnered any unwanted attention. "Jesus, Al, you can't be serious. This is not a government matter, this is you chasing your libido!" His last word descended into a hissing whisper with fangs like a cobra.
Al shrugged wanly. "That's just your opinion." He ignored the huffing and puffing across the table, entirely certain his companion was going to blow a gasket any second. Long was younger than Calavicci by several years, but time hadn't been nearly as kind to him. His face, craggy and wrinkled, reminded the older man of an atlas, filled with worn river cut valleys and weather-beaten mountains.
"Opinion? My opinion, Al? You are fucking her, aren't you?" Rich looked even older when he was angry.
Al winced, and then shot a cold glare across the table. "Christ, have a little tact, Rich." Of course, the irony of his statement was not lost on either man; Al was never much of a proponent of tact himself. "This is my girlfriend we're talkin' about."
Admiral Long shook his head and sat back in his seat, crossing his lithe arms stubbornly across his stomach. "Exactly." He let the word hang until Al knew where he was going next. "Your girlfriend, and therefore, not a government matter."
"Look, I don't care if you're getting heat from the top, Rich. You've seen the recon. She's out there somewhere, and until we find her, I'm not going to stop."
"Al, please. I'm asking you to reconsider. As a friend." Softening his demeanor did nothing to return Richard's face to its formerly loose expression.
Calavicci held his gaze and held his ground without hesitation. "I'm sorry, sir, but I can't." As if there weren't years of friendship between them, suddenly Al was a stranger, pitching straight and strong in his conviction and delivery. "This is about more than just Tina. There's something here, and I've got a very bad feeling that we're all going to regret not paying more attention."
Rich was silent for a long time. He considered the last of his beer, considered his long-time friendship with Al, and considered his career, all before replying. "It's not your decision to make. Or mine."
Al looked stoic. His back straight, he nodded. "Yes, sir."
The pause between them stretched like taffy. Admiral Long finished his beer, Admiral Calavicci did nothing. Finally, the silence broke and Long coughed before his opener. "They're redirecting COMSAR's focus. Details are coming to your e-mail early next week. You're going to just have to keep your head down and hope for the best, all right?"
The room seemed to darken, but Calavicci remained impassive. "Yes, sir."
"And they want Thrace reassigned."
Caught by surprise, Al gaped and grasped for words that weren't there. It was hard not to look stricken. "Sir?"
Rich sighed. He had expected this, even if his superiors had told him it wouldn't be an issue. For as long as he had known Al, the man had been extremely loyal and devoted to those closest him. It only made sense he would bulk against the Commander's transfer. "It's got to be done. You can't expect the United States government to keep funding your little playhouse. You've caused more trouble than you've managed to prevent. She's your subordinate, not your friend."
"Last I checked, it was possible to be both." The chill in his voice surprised even Al as he stood from the table.
"Don't walk away, Al! You should have expected this!" The Vice Admiral got to his feet but made no move to stop Calavicci. When Al was almost to the door, Long let out one last warning, "All the favors in the world won't help if you don't make this right, Admiral. Think about your career!"
Al didn't get the message.
[A Sealed Envelope for Angela Petrelli]
Jul. 20th, 2010 04:05 pm[A sealed manila envelope arrives, marked only with the hand-written name "Angela Petrelli."]
( [Inside the envelope are several pictures, each marked in the same handwriting on the back of the prints.] )
( [Inside the envelope are several pictures, each marked in the same handwriting on the back of the prints.] )
[On the phone, outside of Kara's apartment amidst the immediate aftermath of the meteor shower.] C'mon, 'Buck, lemme in, it's a madhouse out here!
Father's Day
Jun. 20th, 2010 08:36 pmJune 18, 1944
( Albert Calavicci was ten, but shone nothing like the bright, passionate, troublesome youth that had come to define him in the years previous. )
June 21, 1964
( Al was thirty, married, and aiming to be more than two hundred miles above the Earth, so far away from his humble childhood no one could ever guess he'd come from less than nothing. )
June 20, 2010
( The Admiral, seventy-six, didn't need to run from the past anymore. )
( Albert Calavicci was ten, but shone nothing like the bright, passionate, troublesome youth that had come to define him in the years previous. )
June 21, 1964
( Al was thirty, married, and aiming to be more than two hundred miles above the Earth, so far away from his humble childhood no one could ever guess he'd come from less than nothing. )
June 20, 2010
( The Admiral, seventy-six, didn't need to run from the past anymore. )
Time, Got the Time Tickin' in My Head
Jun. 13th, 2010 03:52 pm[The Admiral is in his apartment looking over some paperwork concerning the farm in Wisconsin they'd recently discussed.] Ziggy, you out there?
[Small and tentatively...] Ziggy...?
Civilization is a Thing for Me to See
Jun. 8th, 2010 09:20 am[This is what the Right Hand gets for lending the boss her spare key.]
It's Not Warm When She's Away
May. 24th, 2010 12:28 amThe few stolen hours in Las Vegas had done Al wonders, even if his mind weighed heavily with his duties. After dropping Kara at the hotel (they'd already paid for the room, after all,) Al and Tina had continued on to Henderson. They hadn't gotten to much talking after that.
When everything finally settled, it was late (or early, depending on who you asked.) Too late for a midnight snack, too early for breakfast. Calavicci settled for a cigar and a slouch in his girlfriend's large armchair.
When everything finally settled, it was late (or early, depending on who you asked.) Too late for a midnight snack, too early for breakfast. Calavicci settled for a cigar and a slouch in his girlfriend's large armchair.
Just as promised, Commander Thrace had arrived in time to usher the Admiral out the door. For a Thursday afternoon, the airport was suspiciously quiet, though the flight had represented one of the most vocal Al could remember on a domestic flight.
With a drink and meal service, it turned out to be pleasant enough. Al and Kara traded a few yarns and shared a drink together, and before either of them knew it, they were on the ground in Las Vegas, Nevada.
Al had luggage, of course; Kara a carry-on. They didn't split ways, but the Admiral pushed his way to the carousel and waited for his bag.
With a drink and meal service, it turned out to be pleasant enough. Al and Kara traded a few yarns and shared a drink together, and before either of them knew it, they were on the ground in Las Vegas, Nevada.
Al had luggage, of course; Kara a carry-on. They didn't split ways, but the Admiral pushed his way to the carousel and waited for his bag.
Brooklyn Knows the Charmer Under Me
May. 18th, 2010 10:14 amIf there was one thing the Admiral missed about New Mexico, it was the distinct lack of traffic. If there were two things the Admiral missed about New Mexico, it was the distinct lack of traffic and his car.
Al knew that moving to New York City, even on assignment, would mean that he would be at the mercy of public transportation. With four wives barking at his heels for alimony, the exorbitant parking and registration fees just didn't seem worthwhile. Not to mention, gasoline was an arm and a leg!
That left taxi cabs. He wasn't about to bother with the buses or the subway, especially not when he had so much baggage, but a cab didn't please him, either. He probably couldn't count the number of times the receipt of bad news was associated with a taxi. Thankfully, it was a short ride.
By the time he arrived at Kara's apartment building, forced to shuffle everything to pay, Al was ready to reconsider the car option.
The annoyance didn't last, though. The thought passed away like any other, leaving Calavicci to think on work. Or, perhaps in this case, half work, half play. He rarely had a bad time with the commander.
So, when he finally reached her door, he was relieved. The heavy garment bag he held over his shoulder balanced several plastic grocery bags hung from his wrist. Al knocked. He couldn't believe he didn't have a key.
Al knew that moving to New York City, even on assignment, would mean that he would be at the mercy of public transportation. With four wives barking at his heels for alimony, the exorbitant parking and registration fees just didn't seem worthwhile. Not to mention, gasoline was an arm and a leg!
That left taxi cabs. He wasn't about to bother with the buses or the subway, especially not when he had so much baggage, but a cab didn't please him, either. He probably couldn't count the number of times the receipt of bad news was associated with a taxi. Thankfully, it was a short ride.
By the time he arrived at Kara's apartment building, forced to shuffle everything to pay, Al was ready to reconsider the car option.
The annoyance didn't last, though. The thought passed away like any other, leaving Calavicci to think on work. Or, perhaps in this case, half work, half play. He rarely had a bad time with the commander.
So, when he finally reached her door, he was relieved. The heavy garment bag he held over his shoulder balanced several plastic grocery bags hung from his wrist. Al knocked. He couldn't believe he didn't have a key.
