"It's more complicated than that." Or so he's been telling himself for the past forty-eight hours since he made the decision. Calling you here could've been a bribe, a facade to tiptoe back to closed doors and once more end up tangled in stained sheets, not knowing which side of the bed is his. But it wasn't. Instead, an honest reunion to come clean. "Rumors spread fast in the department, love. They'll think that you..."

They'll think you slept your way to the top, he wants to say, but bites his tongue not to do so. He should've known better than to get involved with a relatively new colleague. After so many years of working in the same job, he can't believe he hasn't learned his lesson. Before someone gets hurt, to avoid messing with your path, he made a choice. One he now has to explain while he looks into your eyes and tries not to let his resolve crumble. "Transferring units is not that bad. You'll get the same paperwork as always."

It was a dirty move from his part to ask for you to get a lateral entry elsewhere. Not sharing the same hours, or maybe not seeing you at all after this might be beneficial for everyone: he gets his mind off of you, and you focus on what really matters. But it's not that easy, and he's sure of it.

He looks out the window, hands clasped together in an attempt to come off as pensive instead of a coward. His name could be dragged through mud and come out clean, he's used to the beatings by now and too roughened up to care. But you? He can't be the responsible of this onset. As tempting as it is to be your personal downfall. "You'll be fine."