Note left on Gabe's desk

[Dara]

*Coming back to my desk and seeing that Mancini has done his usual bit of snooping around and not bothering to hide it.  Picking up the framed picture of Tony and dusting off the glass, hating that someone actually touched the frame.  Writing a note and sticking it on his desk.*

Mancini, next time you touch my stuff you're going to singing soprano.

*Leaving it unsigned so Ryan can't bust me on it, and going back to my desk to put everything back in its rightful place.*

[Omar]

[As Gabriel Mancini]

It's been weeks since I've seen any real physical action- and yes, that implies every sense of the word. Kicking up my feet and leaning back in my seat, I let out a hefty yawn, not really caring if my fellow busybody workers hear me and are annoyed. It's not that I don't do work; it's just in my nature to get things done under pressure, which translates into procrastinating all the time.

My eyes wander around the room, checking out the nice bottoms of the female population that makes up the NYPD task force. I glance to Bertoli's desk. She is definitely the Prize Piece of this precint, but the best I have been able to muster is tustling with her desk to vye for some attention. I notice the lone note peeking out from the placemat on my desk. I reach over and snatch it up, taking in the words. I shake my head with a silent chuckle, kissing the note and putting it away into a drawer.

If only she knew just how much I wanted to "touch [her] stuff"...And if she were "going to [make me sing] soprano" for it, well, let's just say I wouldn't mind feeling her foot down there [But only if she were gentle about it, LOL  ]....

Noticing Friday and Ryan walking to and fro, I snap upright in my seat and make like I'm busy.

Scanning the paper suddenly, I notice a report of a man shot late last night in front of the Four....Scratching my chin, as the description of the man who was shot seems awfully familiar....