Disclaimer: Even though I don't own NCIS, you can't hear me saying that because there's a car alarm going off somewhere in the street.
Spoilers: Dead Man Walking. The NCIS ep, not the depressing message movie.
Summary: Drabble, so why bother?
Yellow Windbreaker wasn't sure why she'd told him she thought she was the only person who got up at 5:30 in the morning to exercise. She passed the same people every morning. Frazzled Lobbyist was usually just getting into her car with her gym bag as she jogged down the street.
Ratty New Balances held up a hand in greeting as he propped his leg on the railing of his building's steps, bending forward as he stretched his hamstrings. She always stretched in her living room before she went out for her morning run. She didn't like the way people looked stretching on their front stoops.
She picked up her pace to her normal speed at the third block, easily passing Huffing Puffing CamelBak. She respected the effort if not the pace; Huffing Puffing CamelBak had lost a noticeable amount of weight in the past year.
The regular populace occupied movable positions on the trail along the Potomac. Grunt shuffled past with his foot-dragging style and repertoire of exertion sounds. Nike Ad was sporting a new sweatshirt with an impossibly large logo. Pulse Checker pressed two fingers to his neck in an eternal monitoring of his heart rate. She didn't acknowledge any of them. She didn't know them.
She didn't bother to identify her normal moving landmarks as she ran over the bridge. Orange Watch Cap wasn't going to be there. She kept her head down, almost colliding with Pink iPod on the corner. She muttered an apology before turning and continuing on her way.
She waited for Biker Gang to pass at the crosswalk. As usual, Blue Hombre Helmet in the middle of the pack was the only one to thank her for her courtesy. Beer Belly joined her on the sidewalk waiting for Biker Gang to pass. He was getting faster. She was going to have to rename him soon.
She passed Jogger Barbie, with her teeny-tiny strides, when she re-crossed the river. Creepy Leerer was, naturally, twenty paces behind Jogger Barbie. She had long suspected that he turned his attention away from his normal target for a few seconds after she passed each morning, but was unwilling to look and make him think she was encouraging him. Wolf Whistler at the newsstand was bad enough.
He didn't disappoint as she rounded the corner. He was the last person she'd always see before she arrived back at her own building, where Ambitious Up and Comer would be inspecting his Mercedes for any harm that may have been inflicted on it during the night.
Winded, she let herself into her apartment. Hanging her yellow windbreaker in her hall closet, she wondered if she had learned anything she was going to let herself remember from Orange Watch Cap.
Roy.
Roy Sanders.
Maybe something.