Traffic fines in New York City aren't particularly heavy.
But there's one thing that's different from back in the East.
Traffic violations here are lumped together with minor crimes.
Simply put, if you park illegally in the East, you might just pay a fine and have your points deducted, but here, you have to go to traffic court.
So as they restarted the car and drove towards LaGuardia Airport, Gwen was still thankful she'd gotten out just in time, otherwise she'd have to ask for leave to go to traffic court.
At the same time, she was puzzled.
"Strange, we can park in front of the courthouse in Manhattan, but not in Queens."
"..."
Hawke, sitting in the passenger seat, listened to Gwen's mumbling, thought for a moment, and said curiously, "Even if we drive out, it's okay.
Just tell Sheriff Stacy and it should be fine."
Gwen came back to her senses, glanced at Hawke, and shook her head.
"No."
"Uh..."
Hawke remembered the family card Gwen had just shown the traffic officer.
Gwen seemed to see through Hawk's thoughts and explained with a smile, "Using a family card is fine because everyone uses it, and it's a benefit the police department gives to their families.
But getting a summons is a different story. My dad definitely wouldn't call his friends at the court just for a parking summons.
He'd definitely tell me seriously, 'Gwen, you should stand up in court and bravely admit your mistake.'"
As she explained, Gwen mimicked the tone and expression of Sergeant George Stacy of the 19th Precinct of the New York Police Department.
Hawk listened to Gwen's explanation and nodded in understanding.
He had always imagined Sergeant George Stacy to be the kind of stern, rigid, and intolerant sheriff.
But after hearing Gwen's explanation it didn't seem like that.
Sure enough,movies are always stereotypical.
Forty-five minutes later,Gwen drove to LaGuardia Airport.
Hawk unbuckled his seatbelt and thanked Gwen again as the car stopped.
As Hawke opened the door and prepared to exit, Gwen spoke up, "I'm curious about something, Hawke."
Hawke, already pushing open the door and preparing to exit, turned and looked at Gwen.
"What?"
"If I don't accept your thanks, what will you do? Keep thanking me?"
"..."
Hawke was silenced by Gwen's question.
After a moment,he looked at Gwen, who smiled and seemed genuinely curious about the answer, and thought for a moment.
"Sorry?"
"..."
This time, Gwen was silent.
I don't accept your thanks, so you apologize?
...Alright.
Gwen's smile widened, and she looked at Hawke and said with a smile, "You thank me too many times.
We're friends, and friends don't need to say thank you."
Friends?
Hawke was stunned again.
Although his relationship with Gwen was slightly better than with his other classmates, that was mainly because they had the same physics class, so they sat at the same table.
But that was all.
After all, apart from physics, he and Gwen didn't have much contact at school.
To be precise, he didn't have much contact with any of the students.
But Hawke didn't contradict Gwen.
He couldn't just drop him off and then say they weren't friends.
He still had some emotional intelligence.
Soon.
Hawke watched the car, which, after getting out, turned around, stepped on the accelerator, and disappeared from his sight.
He averted his gaze and walked towards the temporary shelter.
It was evening.
Manhattan.
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At the Golin Apartment,Helen Stacy, sitting on the sofa in her house clothes, watching the latest episode of "Desperate Housewives," heard the door open and turned to look.
She saw Sergeant George Stacy of the 19th Precinct, dressed in a white shirt, tie, a black suit, and a badge pinned to his waist, walking in.
"Back?"
"Yeah,"
George replied, closing the door behind him. He looked at Helen, who was sitting on the sofa. "Where's Gwen?"
Helen glanced toward the stairs leading to the second floor.
"Back upstairs."
"Oh,"
George nodded, then walked upstairs. When he reached his daughter's bedroom, he knocked on the door. "Gwen."
Gwen's voice echoed from inside: "It's unlocked, Dad."
George then pushed the door open.
Inside the room.
Gwen, already dressed in cute pajamas and with her smooth blonde hair draped over her shoulders, sat cross-legged in a chair. She looked at George as he entered.
"Dad, what's up?"
George stood in the doorway, not going into his daughter's bedroom. Instead, he looked at Gwen, who was sitting at her desk, leaning against the door with his arms folded.
A smile crossed his lips as he said, "You didn't have class this afternoon, did you?"
Gwen was startled at first, then realized what was happening.
She lowered her smooth legs from the chair and stood up.
"Did someone contact you?"
"What do you think?"
George said with a smile.
"I have to call to verify.
What if someone's using my family ID card?" Although that was unlikely to happen, there's a saying in the federal government: You can die, but you can't die.
There are people who use fake family ID cards to get away with things, but they're rare.
However, because it involves law enforcement outside the home, it's not convenient to call and confirm in person.
Instead, they write down the license plate number and then report it back to the station for verification.
If the family ID card is genuine, then there's nothing to worry about.
But if the family card turns out to be fake, that's fine.
The license plate number is memorized anyway.
That guy can expect to be issued a dozen summonses a day.
The NYPD will let him know that there's a price to pay for messing with them.
Gwen was speechless after hearing George's words.
"Dad, I really didn't think about parking illegally.
Parking is allowed in front of courthouses in Manhattan."
George shrugged.
"I'm not interested in your parking violations.
After all, that's what the family card is for." He wasn't that old-fashioned.
The family card can be used, just don't abuse it.
Gwen blinked at George's words.
"So you..."
"But I'm interested in why you went to the back district court this afternoon."
"Oh,"
Gwen heard, sitting back in her chair and retrieving the book she'd been reading.
"Nothing, just taking a classmate to court to do something."
George smiled.
"Male classmate?"
"..."
Gwen put down her book and looked at George standing in the doorway, her face serious.
"Dad, Hawke and I are just friends."
No.
That guy seemed to be still resistant to being his friend.
Gwen thought to herself.
She remembered the moment she sent Hawke home that afternoon, after she said they were friends, Hawke's face froze in a daze.
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