Henry Spencer, SBPD

Henry pulls up in his truck ten minutes early - across the street. He still can't bring himself to park in her driveway even when her husband's car isn't there... somehow it just seems to make everything feel wrong. Just like walking into her house and feeling the tight squeeze of her life that he doesn't feel like he has the right to be part of.

Instead, he steps out of the truck in his pressed suit and leans against the door - watching the light in her bedroom window as he gives her a little extra time to get ready, her unmistakeable shadow dancing across the curtains. It's the sort of moment he loves, when he can just exist and love her without her even knowing it because when she looks him in the eyes it's written clear as day across the lines in his face.

After maybe five minutes of listening to the quite Santa Barbra evening, he sends a text:

Your chariot and driver await, m'lady.

Waking up wrapped in Karen's arms is perhaps the best thing Henry could possibly imagine - nuzzling into her sleep-matted hair and inhaling the sweet scent of day-old shampoo and her right there against him. For a long moment, he's afraid to move - afraid to break the moment and move on to a new one. It should scare him that he's so comfortable already, that he's throwing around words like 'love' so haphazardly... but that's what he's become with her. He doesn't just want her, he flat out needs her in his life now - and if that's not love, damn it... nothing is. Soon, though, it will be over - they'll have to go home and Lord knows if he'll ever get to be this close again.

Gently, he presses a kiss against the back of her neck and another to her bare shoulder, squeezing tight around her waist.

And then he feels her shift back against him and murmur something that may be his name and reflexively whispers; "Good morning, beautiful."

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.