She keeps one hand in his, reaching past to close the door behind him. She doesn't bother turning on a light. The kitchen is just a few steps away, and there's a dim glow from the range that's enough for now. The bottle of Bollinger's is in the middle of her table.

"Champers, straight from the bottle," she says, remembering back to one of the first cases they worked together. Her voice is low, like she doesn't want to break the spell.

"Start as we mean to go on," she repeats, interlacing her fingers with his, drawing him close, almost as if she's afraid he'll change his mind.