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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"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?

Henry had bought it hook, line, and sinker. It was simply easier to write it off and pretend it never happened.

And that they were catching dinner to catch up on sports scores or how things are going in her life after so awkwardly admitting his own less-than-grand existence.

He parked behind her off the street, quick to shut off the engine and meet her at the door.

"This must be the place."

"Yep, best chow mai fun in Santa Barbara, and I've checked." She might have a little bit of a problem with rice noodles, and not enough time or energy to cook for herself.

"I, uh," she pauses, hand on the door handle. "Thanks for joining me."

He shrugs, not acknowledging the warm creep up the back of his ears. "Hey, we both like noodles and working late."

It's true in the absolute broadest sense. After a slight pause, he hesitantly adds; "And, you know... I uh... you're good company."

"So long as I'm not talking shop, right?" She leads him inside, and the owner shows them to a seat near a window that looks out at a little meditation garden. It's the reason why she likes to stay and eat at the restaurant rather than take her food home and eat it from a box.

Or at least one of the reasons.

"So, I don't imagine someone who can cook like you can has a lot of use for restaurants, unlike me."

He doesn't mind talking shop much, it can sometimes be easier than talking about anything else... but she's always been easy to talk to.

"Are you kidding?" He chuckles softly, raising an eyebrow, "I learned to cook in self defense... I'd eat out more if did always end up with a fridge full of leftovers every time I do cook."

He's not yet learned the art of cooking for less than four - or two guys with healthy appetites.

"Well, you learned, that's the important part. Everything I've tasted in your kitchen has been terrific. I can't do much more than spaghetti with jarred sauce. Quesadillas with rotisserie chicken from the supermarket."

She laughs, it's kind of sad how undomestic she is. She dropped the ball there, somehow.

"My fridge is full of takeout boxes instead of Tupperware."

Henry can take the praise for what it is, looking down into his water anyway.

"You're welcome at my table any time, Karen," he looks back up at her with a soft smile; "I'll remember to bring you by some of the good stuff."

"That's kind of you, but I'd make myself a giant nuisance," she laughs.

It is a kind offer, and she chooses not to read anything more into it. Henry is a good man, and is becoming a good friend. And she could use a few more friends.

"So have you done any fishing lately?"

He can't imagine she'd be a nuisance at all, but he lets the comment slip by without notice - she knows he means it.

"Nah;" he shakes his head, "been busy with everything going on lately... was thinking about heading out this weekend if all goes well, though. It's been a pretty quiet week."

All things considered, really. Long hours... a bit of overwork and lost sleep, but mostly quiet.

"I'll cross my fingers for you." A quiet weekend sounds like a wonderful thing. A quiet hobby sounds even better.

"It must be peaceful, out on the boat, just you and the water and the fish."

He nods again, sipping at his drink. "You should try it some time... most of the time it's not even about the fish - just getting out there away from everything is nice."

"I wouldn't have the first clue what to do. Lures, bait, reels, all that. My dad was a fisherman,. I used to try to buy him gear for birthdays, Father's Day," she remembers with a smile.

"I never managed to get quite the right things, I ended up just getting gift certificates after a few failures."

And she manages another soft Henry laugh, he shakes his head; "That's the beauty of going by yourself - doesn't matter if you don't catch anything as long as you have a good time."

After another comfortable quiet he adds; "I'm sure you've got better things to be doing anyway than being out on a boat."

"Well, there's Iris. That's where my time goes," she says with a shy little shrug. She doesn't know why she feels like she shouldn't admit that.

"Nothing wrong with that, and I'm sure it's nice to get some time alone from time to time with your husband."

He doesn't miss trying to make a marriage work when he's gone all the time.

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