The office had been quiet for some time. Most of the CBI staff had left after a particularly exhausting day—hours of investigation, interrogations that seemed to lead nowhere, and endless reports. The hallway lights were partially off, leaving the room with that soft, yellowish glow typical of late-night work sessions.

Inside the room, Patrick remained where he usually was when everyone else finally gave up on the day: stretched out comfortably on the sofa, one arm resting behind his head and a forgotten cup of tea on the coffee table. His posture was relaxed, almost lazy, as if the world worked at a completely different pace for him.

But Jane's clear eyes were rarely truly resting.

When she entered the office again, he noticed immediately.

Not by the sound of the door—though that also helped—but by the subtle change in the room's energy, the slightly heavier pace of her footsteps, and the way her shoulders carried the weight of an overly long day.

The corner of Patrick's mouth curled into a discreet, almost satisfied smile, as if confirming a theory he'd been observing since earlier.

He settled a little more comfortably on the sofa, watching with quiet attention as she approached.

His eyes analyzed small details that most people would never notice.

The accumulated tiredness in her eye line.

The way she walked slowly, as if she barely had the strength to stand.

Jane tilted her head slightly, almost like someone appreciating an interesting enigma.

"You're tired. I guess it's the result of your neglecting to rest."

His voice was low, soft, with that calm tone that always seemed to carry a bit of hidden amusement.

His gaze wasn't intrusive—it was curious. Attentive.

As always.

Jane rose from the sofa with carefree tranquility, approaching slowly, stopping in front of him.

His hands were surprisingly careful as they took one of hers.

Firm.

Precise.

Like someone who knew exactly what he was doing.

Patrick's fingers began to work slowly, pressing on specific points with a precision that suggested practice—or at least a very good understanding of how the human body reacts to touch.

"The mind lies all the time… but the muscles are terribly honest."

His smile returned slightly.

"Fortunately, I'm very good at convincing both of them to cooperate."

In an instant, the corner of his mouth lifted again.

"Do you want to sit down and tell me exactly what made you like this today… or will I have to figure it out myself?"