Disclaimer: All characters in this piece belong to Greg Weisman. I'm just borrowing them. Credit for this idea also goes to Obi's Second Cousin, my RP buddy.

Author's Note: Recently Obi's Second Cousin and I have been in a lot of RPs with one another, and we decided to try our hand at a few Gargoyles ones. We did a few and then the idea of "What if Owen and Elisa ended up together" just wouldn't go away, so we decided to play it out. And this is what came from it. There will be plenty more drabbles about these two. Maybe I'll even try writing out my own separate version of the whole thing sometime. Enjoy!


Chocolates are one of the surest ways to get a woman's attention. Apparently, one Owen Burnett was well aware of this fact, because when I made my way to my desk at the precinct a few days after having met him, I found a box on my desk. Usually I'm not exactly welcoming of mystery packages, but this one had a card on it. Glancing around to see if anyone could tell me where the box had come from, I was more than a little suspicious when no one offered an explanation. Grabbing hold of one of the officers that had a desk near mine, I motioned at the box pointedly.

"Any idea where this came from?" I asked.

Officer Morgan shrugged and gave me a wink. "No idea who sent them, Detective, but the messenger who brought them said that a man was behind it."

I rolled my eyes at Morgan's tone and wink. I was very notoriously single, so this was not going to go unnoted by the rest of the precinct. Perfect. Sighing and sitting down at my desk, I pulled the box closer and eyed the card for a moment before picking it up and reading it.

Detective Maza,

Consider this a small thank you for your help in protecting my employer at the gala. I hope that you find this satisfactory.

O. Burnett

Blinking a little in surprise, I read the note again twice more before I inspected the box. It was wrapped, concealing anything that might give me a clue about what was inside. I would have to open it if I wanted to know what I'd been given by Mr. Owen Burnett.

Owen Burnett was an enigma and seemingly unapproachable. He worked as the personal assistant and all around errand boy—though the other term I'd heard used was majordomo—to the single richest man in New York; one David Xanatos. I knew plenty about Xanatos. He was the CEO and owner of a multi-billion dollar corporation, and had his fingers in all sorts of pies, in the business, political and even entertainment worlds. On the other hand, I knew absolutely nothing about Xanatos' aide, Owen Burnett, beyond his name and position.

Well, that was a lie. We'd met a few nights ago at a gala Xanatos was throwing in the half-finished castle that he was transplanting from Scotland to the top of his business' headquarters. I wasn't a guest. Things like galas just weren't my "scene" really. I was only there because Xanatos had contacted the department to get a few of the officers there to work security. I wasn't keen on the idea, but Captain Chavez insisted that I go, dressed and dolled up, and act as the head of this little operation.

It was almost torturous for me to be there. I mean, I'm a cop. I don't do dresses or heels, which was why I hated things like this where I had to wear them. After the first two hours, my feet were screaming in protest to being in heels for so long, and I was regretting that I had no room in my dress for a badge, let alone a gun or pair of handcuffs. I felt naked without them, to be honest, and with my hair up in pins my scalp was starting to scream as well. All I wanted to do was run away and hide, get out of the heels and pull my hair down and relax. But I couldn't, since I was on duty.

I swear, whoever invented heels should be strung up in a shooting gallery and used for target practice. The things are the modern corset for women; a pain to wear, but they do make you look sexy. I will admit, that while I hate them, heels do make my legs look pretty good. That doesn't mean that I thought the man who invented them shouldn't hang. And it had to be a man who did it. No woman in her right mind would force other women to wear these things.

Anyway, that was when I met Owen Burnett. I must have looked ready to kill, because he had a mildly amused look combined with great respect on his face when he approached me. He was polite and very self-contained when we spoke, with a slight accent that I couldn't quite place at first. It sounded faintly British, though I wasn't very sure about that. And he was handsome.

What? I'm a cop, but I'm not dead, and I'm still very much a woman.

Burnett was the sort of handsome that you don't see too often anymore; blonde with very sharp, but well-shaped features, and pale skin with brilliant blue eyes. He wore glasses too, but they were very tasteful and added to how handsome he looked, in my mind. And he was tall. I'm a tall woman, really, but Owen Burnett was still a bit taller than me, even when I was in heels. On the other hand, he was very stiff and controlled. If he hadn't ever smiled during the evening I would have assumed he was a robot of some sort. Still, he'd been nothing but polite to me, and even seemed impressed when the gloves came off.

I don't know why, but the gala was attacked that night by what looked like, I kid you not, ninjas. When that happened, the heeled shoes came off right away and I started putting my hand to hand training to good use. That must have really impressed Burnett if he was sending me thank you gifts for it.

Considering all of this as I looked at the box in front of me, I decided to risk it and slowly began unwrapping it. I don't know why I do it, but I never just rip wrapping paper off of anything. I'm very careful with it, which made it easier for me to unwrap Burnett's offering without drawing too much attention to myself. When I finally got the paper off, I pulled the box free and couldn't help but stare.

Chocolates. Owen Burnett had gotten me chocolates. And not just any chocolates, but some of the most expensive ones money could buy. I couldn't help but feel a little overwhelmed, and more than a little breathless. This was…this had to be more than a simple thank you. I couldn't think of why he'd be sending me expensive chocolates, but it wasn't just to tell me thanks for protecting his boss and doing my job.

But why would he send them, if not to thank me? I had no theories at all about why he would…Picking up the card that came with the chocolates, I arched an eyebrow as I read it again. "A small thank you?" He had to have plopped down quite a few greenbacks for this box of chocolates! Small my eye. What did it mean, though?

I had no idea, so I decided to just enjoy the chocolates while I could. Slowly opening the box, I was once more surprised by the sheer variety of chocolates there. Blinking a little, I slowly selected one that was peanut butter filled and tried it.

Ambrosia. I was seriously considering saving David Xanatos' life more often if I got these kinds of chocolates for it.