sbpd_papabear | OOM: After Stumbling On Milliways

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OOM: After Stumbling On Milliways

It's been a couple days since they stumbled into some sort of shared hallucination (which is really the best thing he can think to call it) and neither one has broached the topic. For Henry's part, he's decided it's either too weird to talk about or never happened at all.

Instead, he's working late on Thursday night fixing paperwork that tried to claim Gus' car insurance as a state billable work expense. Nice try.

Just after seven, the station had gone more or less quiet - the steady din of the workday tapering off to the solemn click of a few keyboards punctuating the otherwise still environment. It was kind of nice... perfect time to grab a coffee and check out the snack machine for options to stave off dinner until he went home.

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Karen's working late again too. Budget crunching, it's almost always budget crunching. Numbers aren't her favorite thing and taking care of these petty chores is best left to the quiet of the early evening, after the day shift is gone, before the after-dark crimes bring the station back to life.

But the numbers are just kind of blurs on the page when she stops and remembers that strange thing that happened. That place where she was, or that her brain thought she was. And there was Henry. She really ought to talk to him.

A hot cup of coffee and two Baby Ruths in hand, Henry was on his way back to the desk - purposefully taking the path past the Chief's office just to peek in and see how her load was going. He knew all too well what she was dealing with, and quite frankly regardless of Lassiter's whining that Henry would be next in line he didn't want the gig.

"Hey, working dinner shift?" He didn't bother knocking, the door was partially open anyway.

"Dinner, what's that?" Karen's smile was mild, but she was glad for the minor interruption. "The meal I make of vending machine granola bars and the apple I save from lunch?"

Somewhat innocently, he holds up the candy bars; "I'm pretty sure that nougat isn't considered a food group yet... so you've got me beat in the nutrition area."

He chuckles some what awkwardly and offers a shrug, the thought crossing his mind that it wouldn't be out of line to ask if she wanted to call out for something.

She laughs then, then a bit more. "I'm sorry, I'm just remembering some TV show where they said that nougat was whipped dolphin fat. And I'm not even sure why that's funny. I think I'm tired." Sitting up taller in her chair, she calms herself.

"I'm sorry. Why are you here late tonight? Is there a problem?"

He raises an eyebrow that the outburst, but can't help but chuckle under his breath. "Don't worry about me, just cleaning up some paperwork the boys turned in."

Shaking his head, he slips the chocolate in his jacket pocket and takes a sip of the still too-hot coffee. "I've got to go over what exactly constitutes as legal deductions with Gus again."

"I always thought Mr. Guster was the one hundred percent by the book partner at Psych," she says, surprised that he might be trying to cut corners. "Do I need to have a talk with him?"

"He's not doing so good lately..." Henry shakes his head, inviting himself further into the office. "I've got it under control, my bet is that assumed Shawn is capable of logical thought."

It's his kid, he's allowed to say it. Because it's pretty much true.

"Is Gus having a problem?" She asks softly, the concern showing through. She knows that Shawn isn't good with paperwork and responsibility, but Gus is usually very solid. "Is there something he needs?"

There's no immediately available delicate way to put it, so Henry shakes his head and mutters; "Yeah, Shawn's got someone new to play with and he's left spending Monday nights at my house watching Football and learning how to cook."

Holding back a snort, he adds; "Until he gets a girlfriend or Shawn loses one, I'm gonna be spending more quality time with both Gus and his reports."

"Always a problem, becoming the third wheel." She might know, she's the third wheel in her own marriage. "I'm glad he has you, as much trouble as that may be for you at the moment."

A brief, but almost sad smile crosses his lips and he lets the thought linger as he takes another long drink.

Finally, he says; "Well, it's not bad... I mean, we've both spent the last fifteen years trying to meet a woman that makes it past the first three dates." He shrugs, "May as well be single together."

It's not supposed to sound creepy, but on second thought he's pretty sure it does.

She notices him cringe, but she's not sure why. She can easily recall Henry's disastrous second date with her friend Susan, and Gus's girlfriend who nearly got him killed, riding to the rescue on a hang glider.

"It seems you're both due for a little luck in the love department."

"You'd think that." He's pretty sure there's more to the thought, but that's pretty much it in his case. He likes to think he's due for luck... but is pretty sure more nights with his television and a cold beer are on God's great big agenda for him.

He chuckles under his breath again, but without the humor. "Anyway, don't worry about his stuff. You know I run a tight ship and I won't pass on anything stupid."

"I'm not worried about that, Henry. I just don't want you saddled with extra work."

"Hey, I'm salary. Doesn't make much difference either way if I'm spending my time curled up with an expense report or the Jersey Shore."

He's actually pretty sure most people would think the expense report's a better option.

"You don't watch Jersey Shore," she snorts. Maybe he does. She's been known to occasionally watch Mob Wives, but she rationalizes that as research into the criminal class.

"Uh, anyway, salary or not, don't spend all night here. You should have a better dinner than, uh, nougat."

It's great for profiling... and things.

"I'm getting pretty close to done," he shrugs, offering her a slight smile; "maybe we could get some sandwiches or something? Assuming you're going to be poking that budget a few more hours."

"I don't think I'm going to get any productive value out of working on it any more tonight, actually."

She stacks the printouts of spreadsheets and cost allocations and closes them in a bright red folder. Eye-catching, to remind her to get right back to them in the morning.

"Do you like Chinese?"

An invitation, it was unexpected... but not unwelcome.

"I could go for some noodles," he smiles again, but without the awkwardness of before; "if you could go for the company."

"Company and noodles sounds like the best way to end this day." She takes her purse from under the desk and her service weapon from the drawer. "And we can talk about something other than budgets and forms and Mr. Guster and your son and anything else related to police business, maybe?"

It's perhaps a lot to ask, to leave their biggest commonality off of the table, she realizes that as she stands and holsters her gun. But she'd like to not be the Chief for a little while.

That's enough to elicit a genuine laugh in itself; "Yeah... that sounds..." he lets out a slight sigh; "really nice."

Not wanting to look like he's in as much of a hurry to get out of there as he is, Henry ditches his suit jacket and loosens his tie as he shuts down his computer - and sends himself an email reminder to go over the regulations with Gus again on Monday.

And then it's back to better things... different things, at least. "Your car, or mine?"

She follows him, leaning on a pillar and trying to look casual as he closes things down.

"Both, you can follow. We do live on opposite sides of town, after all." And opposite directions from the station and the restaurant she has in mind, for that matter.

"Do you know Lotus Garden? Off Mariposa?"

It takes a minute, but he's pretty sure he's familiar with the area - but never been there.

"Yeah, of course. And I'll follow you."

On the way to the restaurant, Henry's truck never more than a car length behind, she tries to tell herself that they don't need to talk about the lost hour that wasn't lost. It was just a product of overworked, overstressed minds taking a brief break from reality.

That happened sometimes. It was nothing to be worried about.

If she told herself that enough, she'd eventually believe it, right?

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