..:ALL'S FAIR IN LOVE AND CRIME:..

"I'm really sorry about how Barnes acted, he..." Moore struggled to get her thoughts out as she focused on the road ahead of them. "He means well -- honest."

Zenigata quietly fumed to himself, with the man replying after a moment of awkward silence. "It's nothing I haven't seen before." He grumbled.

This piqued the driver's curiosity, with her wondering if he had Barnes pegged. "Really?" She asked simply in an attempt to hide her intrigue.

"He's someone who saw success at a young age, and thinks that success is going to follow him for the rest of his life," he answered. "He's arrogant. He hasn't experienced a true challenge, something he has to put all his efforts into."

Moore shrugged. "I think he knows hard work, but I agree about the arrogance. I wonder if with age he's gotten bored with his career. Maybe it's too easy for him now?"

The inspector frowned and crossed his arms as he looked out the passenger window. "Who knows, but I can tell you this: I've had enough of him for one day," he responded firmly. He looked at the woman as he changed the conversation topic, "Do you know anything about the crime rate here in New York?"

"I'm not a native here, but I've heard stories," she confessed. "In all honesty inspector, I believe heavy crime is just a part of city life. Given the amount of people that are in an average city, there's bound to be problems," she joked as she turned onto Ryder Avenue. "We're nearing the hotel..." Moore spoke distractedly as she began to dig in her purse, but kept her eyes glued on the road.

Zenigata's eyes zigzagged towards the purse and the street. "I was briefed that I was staying in a neighborhood that had a higher crime rate..." He mused as he rubbed his cleft chin, with him mentally noting that this area looked rougher than the previous locations he and Moore drove past.

The woman looked at her passenger for a fleeting moment as an awkward smile graced her thin lips. She was relieved to hear that the man had some idea of what he was getting himself into, but there laid a question: "Do you know the name of the hotel?" She asked reticently as she glanced at her found notes and then promptly shoved them back into her purse.

The inspector looked at her questioningly as he began to get the impression something was wrong. "I was only told the location."

Moore could only frown as she began to parallel park. The vehicle stopped at a worn-out building. Above the entrance there was a blue and silver neon sign that read, "The Crescent Hotel". Similar to the condition of the architecture, the sign appeared to have seen better days, with both of them wondering if it worked. However, the building was generous regarding its size, sporting five floors of potential rooms. It had the energy that, at some point in time, it was a luxurious location. The appearance of the hotel was a shadow of the art deco aesthetic, as a trained eye would recognize its distinct geometric patterns that adorned the windows and the use of cool, metallic colors. Regardless of its lingering frivolities, it was a husk of its former identity, with the remnants of its history falling through the cracks of time. Moore watched her guest step out of the car before leaving herself, with her wondering what was going through the man's head.

As Zenigata closed the car door, his brown eyes were firmly on the building before him. He knew locations like this existed in Tokyo, and had seen them first-hand given his line of work, but it was fascinating to witness one that belonged to another country. It reminded him of the rough neighborhoods he had investigated previously to get a better understanding of the yakuza-operated drug trafficking ring. The woman approached him, with that look of vague concern still plastered on her face. She looked at the hotel, then back at the inspector, fearing that he'd be offended by what the ICPO provided for him.

Unsure how to start the conversation, she asked, "What do you think?"

Despite his curiosity about the building that loomed before him, the inspector was, unsurprisingly, not thrilled to call a location like this his temporary home. However, he recognized that the exploration of such environments was a part of the job, and found himself quickly accepting his fate. As he was preparing to reply, he heard something that caught his attention immediately.

"Help! HELP!"

Without missing a beat, Zenigata turned to the direction where he heard the sudden cry. From a distance, he saw a woman urgently trying to pull herself away from a young man. The latter had his gloved hands around her purse, forcibly tugging at it until it fell out of her grip. The thief shot off like a rocket after he got his loot, heading somewhere south. The inspector's eyebrows furrowed as he witnessed this, and without a second thought, began his pursuit of the criminal. Moore stood in shock as she watched all of this happen, as a budding conversation about his unfortunate dwelling place had somehow become an investigation in the blink of an eye. Finding herself feeling ill-equipped to handle the situation once again, she blew her whistle to alert Zenigata and then called out for him.

"Inspector, do you need any help?"

"Stay where you're at!" he yelled back -- there was not much more he could say at that time, he could only warn her in fear that the target was carrying a weapon.

The thief, as he ran, heard the sound of the whistle and looked behind himself. His eyes grew big in panic as he saw a cop charging at him like a bull seeing red. The young man began to run faster, intentionally cutting in the way of small groups of people and crisscrossing around objects in hopes of disorienting his pursuer. The inspector, however, was undaunted, with the man carefully maneuvering around every obstacle. After an extended period of this manic race, the purse-snatcher began to lose speed, with him worriedly looking over his shoulder only to see this one cop continue to chase him as if his career depended on it. As a last resort, he took a sudden turn into an alleyway that was cluttered with litter and garbage, praying that this relentless law enforcer would trip over something and hurt himself.

As the thief ruminated over his impromptu plan, he did not consider that he was also potentially setting himself up for disaster as he ran through the trash agglomeration. The handle of the purse waved madly along with his movements, with it suddenly getting caught on a valve from a piece of piping. The purse flung out of his tight grip as he promptly tripped and fell on the hard concrete. The action happened so fast it took a moment for Zenigata to realize what had happened as he rapidly approached. The man halted hastily, with him wavering on his toes for an extended moment before regaining his balance. In a stroke of incredible luck, the purse fell onto him and adorned his torso as the handle wrapped around his neck, which made it look like the world's clunkiest tie. The man blinked several times in disbelief before his big eyes met the loot.

Panting heavily, Moore finally caught up. "I can see why you got the job, inspector..." She said in between breaths. She noticed the purse around him as she wiped her brow. "Wait, where's..." She trailed off as she looked around the area as if the thief was hiding somewhere among the trash.

The two then heard a muffled groan ahead of them, then saw the young man lying face first on the rough ground. Zenigata frowned at this and cautiously approached, with him examining the criminal from a safe distance to assess his condition afterward. His right foot appeared badly twisted after the impact -- the inspector surmised that his ankle was likely broken.

He looked at the woman as he readjusted his tan fedora. "Moore, I need some help getting this man back on his feet again," he requested, adding, "We're heading back to the Precinct."

The drive back to the station was an awkward one. Moore found herself impressed by the inspector's commitment to his job -- as she found out later that the handcuffs he used on the thief were a spare, which he stored in case of an emergency -- however, she did not expect this loan car to have the temporary gig of transporting a criminal. It was not technically an "official" police vehicle, with it sporting no metal mesh to separate those who were sitting in front from whoever was in the back. Tensions were high, as she and Zenigata remained quiet while the injured kid voiced his opinions on the situation loud and clear. The young man did indeed sprain his ankle, and with his hands cuffed, and no weapons found on his person, Zenigata found him harmless -- though he kept a keen eye on him through the front mirror just to be on the safe side.

Per the inspector's insistence, there was a brief visit to a hospital to get the criminal's leg properly bandaged up, while Moore called the 60th Precinct to inform them of what had happened after their departure. Once they arrived back at the station, the arrest continued swiftly, and he went through the standard procedures regarding an act of theft. While not an amazing score, the man was revealed to be a bigger nuisance than Zenigata originally assumed. He fit the description of an infamous snatcher that stole easy items for a quick thrill. His attention was now on bigger game -- purses and bags -- and became cocky over time, fueled by the belief that he simply was not going to be caught. Now, he found himself looking at the floor plaintively, cursing at himself internally.

About the time the thief was being prepared to be placed in one of the precinct's temporary jail cells, Barnes stepped out of his office. He was needed elsewhere, and as he was putting on his suit jacket, the young man caught his attention. He looked around the age of the rookie that the ICPO agent had interacted with previously that day, and he couldn't help to compare the two in his mind. The fellow officer's eyes embodied optimism and a greater desire to help others, but the person he was staring at better resembled a child who got caught with his hand in the cookie jar.

"Can you believe he's a Turner?" hoarsely whispered Foster, another NYC cop, as she plopped several pages of paperwork onto her desk.

Barnes had to remind himself who the Turners were. While he had never met one of them previous to this, he knew enough to know that they were a wealthy family that lived in the outskirts of Brooklyn, nearing Queens, and their sizable family business dealt with apartments and housing. His frown deepened as he continued to observe the arrest. "Disappointing that someone of his background would resort to something like this as a hobby. His parents practically own the north end of Brooklyn." He then looked at her, asking, "Who caught him?"

Foster was flipping through the paperwork as he asked his question, with the woman now mostly focused on her work. She nudged her head towards the west corner of the room. "I don't know, I've never seen the guy before."

Barnes turned in the direction she pointed at, and found his fellow Interpol officer chatting with a small group of freshly off-duty police. A slow look of surprise creeped onto his face, with the man taken aback that Zenigata had already managed to make an arrest in the short time he'd been in the country. His initially impressed expression quickly shriveled into a sharp contortion of brewing jealousy, with him convincing himself once more that this was another win on the man's good-luck streak -- and nothing else. Barnes approached the modest gathering, and luckily found himself entering when there was a lull in the conversation.

"Have you been to your hotel yet?" he asked, with his seemingly peaceable tone twinged with a vaguely taunting sting.

Zenigata looked at him once he heard his voice. His eyebrows rose curiously as he answered awkwardly, "Err, yes. The arrest happened near the area." He assumed that his partner was already privy to the events that brought him back to the station.

Barnes patted the man on the back as an act of faux support. However, it was more of a smack, which made the latter briefly stumble afterward. "I see you're not a quitter -- go rest, you've done enough for one day's worth."

The inspector watched the officer leave his line of vision with a subtle glare. He was no fool, and was well aware of Barnes' disapproval of his appearance, which became more evident with each passing minute. Zenigata struggled to be the better man out of the two and not let his faint insults bother him, as such blatant discontent was difficult to turn a blind eye to. However, as much as he would hate to admit it, Barnes was right about it getting late... which only made the inspector more curious about why the Interpol cop was so fixated on him getting to his room.

Zenigata looked at his room key, then looked up at the door. 304 -- he was in the right place. The inside of the Crescent Hotel matched its exterior perfectly. While it appeared at some point they attempted a restoration -- the rugs and carpeting looked fresher than the walls and some of the furniture -- it remained a rather sad location, the embodiment of faded glory. The people, however, were nice, and were more than happy to loan a room to the inspector, with the man behind the counter promising him that he was going to get 'one of the nicest rooms available'. Zenigata found himself unsure how to feel about this given the state of it all. He unlocked the door, then took a moment to survey his surroundings.

The room was livable, at least, for the amount of time he planned to spend in New York City -- there was an open-framed bed near the window, a plush chair in the opposite corner, a desk along with an accompanying stool, and a small closet that stood close to the bathroom. Thankfully, he spotted no stains on any of the textile surfaces, but this did not prevent him from questioning how clean the room actually was. As he removed his trenchcoat and draped it over the chair, he wondered how such a location like this could stay open. Against his better judgement, he could only surmise that this was some kind of 'no-tell-motel', and quickly decided not to dwell on that conclusion.

The inspector took a moment to look out the window before getting ready for bed, and found himself actually admiring the view. Despite what little the room had to offer, it sported a nice view of the neighborhood. It all seemed so quiet at this time, but he knew that wasn't the case as he observed other flashy neon signs and locales tempting to lure people into their businesses. His vision blurred as he could no longer fight off his tiredness, with him letting out a loud yawn and stretching shortly afterward. As he was heading to the restroom to change into his nightly wear, he couldn't help to wonder -- or was that worry? -- about what tomorrow would bring.