Fines for traffic violations in New York City aren't especially harsh.
However, there's a key difference compared to the East.
Here, traffic violations are categorized alongside minor offenses. To put it simply, in the East, if you park illegally, you might just pay a fine and get points on your license. But in New York, you'll likely have to make a trip to traffic court.
Which is why...
As she restarted the car and headed toward LaGuardia Airport, Gwen couldn't help but feel relieved that she had moved the car just in time. Otherwise, she would've needed to take a day off to deal with traffic court.
Still, she was a bit puzzled.
"That's weird. You can park right outside the Manhattan courthouse, but not in Queens?"
Hawk, seated in the passenger seat, listened to Gwen's musing and after thinking it over, asked curiously, "Even if you got a ticket, wouldn't it be fine? You could just talk to Captain Stacy, right?"
Gwen glanced at him and shook her head.
"Nope."
"Uh…"
Hawk recalled the family ID card Gwen had shown the traffic officer earlier.
Sensing what he was thinking, Gwen chuckled and explained, "The family card is fine. Everyone uses it. It's sort of a courtesy the precinct gives to officers' families. But getting a ticket? That's a different story. My dad would never pull strings over something like that. He'd definitely sit me down and say, 'Gwen, you need to stand before the court and take responsibility for your actions.'"
As she spoke, Gwen mimicked Captain George Stacy's stern voice and expression from the NYPD's 19th Precinct.
Hawk nodded in understanding.
He had always assumed Captain George Stacy was one of those rigid, by-the-book types who couldn't tolerate a grain of dust in his moral compass.
But now?
Maybe not.
Movies really do flatten people out.
Forty-five minutes later...
Gwen pulled up to LaGuardia Airport.
Hawk unbuckled his seatbelt and thanked her again as he prepared to get out of the car.
Just as he was reaching for the door handle, Gwen spoke up.
"I'm curious about something, Hawk."
Hawk turned to look at her.
"What is it?"
"If I refused to accept your thanks, what would you do? Just keep thanking me?"
That caught Hawk off guard.
He hesitated, then saw the genuine curiosity on Gwen's smiling face.
"Uh… I guess I'd say sorry?"
Now Gwen was the one left speechless.
So if I don't accept your thanks, you apologize instead?
...Well, that works too.
Her smile widened. Looking at him, she said, "You say thank you too much. We're friends, Hawk. Friends don't need to thank each other for every little thing."
Friends?
Hawk blinked, caught off guard again.
Sure, he and Gwen were closer than he was with most classmates. They shared physics class and usually sat together. But that was about it.
Outside of physics, they didn't really interact.
To be honest, he didn't interact much with anyone at school.
Still, Hawk didn't argue.
It would be incredibly awkward if, right after Gwen had gone out of her way to drive him, he turned around and said, "We're not friends."
He wasn't that socially clueless.
As soon as he got out, Gwen made a quick U-turn and drove off, the car vanishing down the street. Hawk watched her disappear, then turned and walked toward the temporary shelter.
Later that evening
Manhattan
Goring Apartments
Helen Stacy was in her loungewear, curled up on the living room sofa watching the latest episode of Desperate Housewives, when she heard the front door open.
She turned toward the entrance.
There stood George Stacy, freshly returned from work. He was dressed in his usual black NYPD suit, white shirt and tie, badge clipped to his belt.
"You're back?" she asked.
"Yeah."
He shut the door behind him and looked toward the living room. "Where's Gwen?"
Helen nodded toward the staircase. "Upstairs."
"Got it."
George made his way to the second floor and stopped at his daughter's room, knocking lightly on the door. "Gwen?"
From inside came her voice. "It's not locked, Dad."
George pushed the door open.
Gwen was already in her pajamas, a cute, pastel set. Her soft blonde hair was down around her shoulders, and she sat cross-legged in her chair by the desk. She turned to look at her father.
"What's up?"
George leaned casually against the doorframe, arms crossed, and smiled. "You skipped your afternoon classes today, didn't you?"
Gwen blinked, then caught on.
"Someone called you?"
"What do you think?" George smirked. "They always call to verify. What if someone was faking a family ID?"
It was rare, sure. But in federal service, there's an old saying: you can go without a life, but not without protocol.
There had been cases though not many where people forged family IDs to take advantage of police privileges. In such situations, officers would usually jot down the license plate and confirm everything back at the precinct.
If the card turned out to be real, no problem.
But if it wasn't?
Well, with the license plate already on record, the violator could expect a dozen or more citations to show up in the mail.
The NYPD didn't take kindly to being played.
Gwen sighed. "Dad, I wasn't trying to park illegally. You can park outside the courthouse in Manhattan. I didn't think Queens would be different."
George shrugged. "I'm not too concerned about the ticket. That's what the family card is for."
He wasn't as strict as people assumed.
The card could be used. Just don't abuse it.
Gwen blinked. "Then why...?"
"But I am curious why you went to the Queens courthouse this afternoon."
"Oh."
She sat back down in her chair and picked up the book she'd been reading earlier.
"No big deal. I just gave a classmate a ride there. He had something to take care of."
George chuckled.
"A male classmate?"
Gwen lowered the book and looked at him seriously. "Dad, Hawk and I are just friends."
Well… maybe.
Actually, now that she thought about it, Hawk seemed kind of reluctant to even admit they were friends.
She remembered the look on his face that afternoon when she said, "We're friends." That awkward flicker of discomfort.