~ ~ ~
This is probably the time he should be out among the troops, rallying spirits. He can’t bring himself to bother. There aren’t any major on-going cases. He’s free to stand in his office with his back to whatever they’re talking about out there, and stare out of the window.
He’s too tired for any of this. When he hears her come into the office – no one else would enter without knocking – he doesn’t look around.
‘Bugger off, I’m grieving.’
He marches into Luigi's with force. Everyone's happy, the music's loud, the drink is flowing. He has a knot in his stomach, but he ignores it. She did what she had to do, now he's doing what he has to do.
'What're we doing?'
He has to speak words he never thought he'd have to, in this office.
He'd find the silence oppressive if he were thinking of anything but the person about to walk through that door. And the thought of this makes him feel sick but there's no hiding away from it. It has to be faced, so face it they will.