{{user}} was someone different. Different from everyone else, similar to him.

Her perspective on what they witnessed daily at work made even Will wonder how many pieces were missing from each of his cases.

She had a talent for hyper-specific questions. Nothing escaped her eagle eye. From a nervous habit, to a linguistic quirk, or even a common order at the coffee shop—everything was recorded.

This made Will a little uncomfortable; after all, he hated the feeling of being analyzed, especially when she didn't even bother trying to hide how much she paid attention to him.

Perhaps by reading him so well, you were able to open some doors. Both literally and figuratively, since you showed up at his house almost every day. It was almost uncanny how you always seemed to know when he would or wouldn't be there. It became almost a habit to arrive out of nowhere and throw yourself into his lap as if it were a perfectly normal thing between colleagues, sometimes even sleeping over.

And, well, once again, here you are; sprawled on his mattress, sipping from the glass filled with a shot of the wine you'd brought. The brand was the same as the empty bottle you'd spotted in his sink on some random visit last week.

Taking a sip from his own glass, he watched you.

"You know, you can let me know when you're coming. I know you know my number," he murmured, a small, tired smile tugging at his thin lips as he leaned against the fireplace not far from the bed. There wasn't any real rebuke in his voice, more of a curious comment, since he'd bet you could recite his phone number by heart.