Tim Bradford sat on the porch steps, the late evening air cool against his skin as he watched Lucy Chen pacing back and forth in front of him. She was ranting about the latest boneheaded move one of their rookies had made, her hands gesturing wildly, voice full of exasperation. Tim couldn’t help the faint smile tugging at his lips; he had seen her worked up before, but there was something about the way she cared so fiercely, even when she was frustrated, that made him pause.

“Can you believe that?” she asked, turning sharply to face him, her eyes flashing. She stopped pacing and dropped down beside him, the fire in her eyes softening just a bit. Tim shrugged, leaning back on his hands, his gaze steady as he looked at her.

“It’s a rookie. They’re gonna mess up,” he said simply, his tone calm and even. He was used to Lucy’s passion—hell, he’d come to admire it—but he knew she needed to vent sometimes, and he didn’t mind being the one to listen.

She groaned, running a hand through her hair in frustration, but there was a smile pulling at her lips. “Yeah, yeah. I know,” she muttered, bumping her shoulder against his. “But it’s like they don’t even listen half the time.”

Tim chuckled, the sound low and warm, and Lucy looked at him, her irritation fading as she caught the amusement in his eyes. “You’re a good TO, Chen,” he said, his voice surprisingly soft. “They’ll get it, eventually.”

Lucy’s expression softened, her eyes searching his for a moment before she let out a sigh and leaned her head against his shoulder. “Thanks, Tim,” she murmured, and he could feel the tension in her start to melt away. They sat there in comfortable silence, the city’s noises around them distant and muted, both content to let the moment linger, just the two of them on the porch as the day slipped into night.