Switching precincts may not have been Kim's brightest decision.

Precinct 41's Violent Crimes unit was stressful and constantly overworked, and his fellow officers were only a little less racist than 57. All for a man who doesn't know his own mother's name, let alone whether he likes men. From their time in Martinaise, Kim wasn't even totally sure that Harry knew it was an option.

He's not even really sure how it happened. The first time they had met, Harry was so hungover he looked half-dead, and Kim thought he had been assigned the exact type of officer he had suspected when his fellow officers entered him into this pissing contest. A smug, drug-abusing asshole who wouldn't listen to him and probably call him a binoclard the entire time. But he wasn't. Sure, he was erratic, and he had a substance problem, but Kim had surprised himself with how quickly he trusted Harry.

That trust is what led him to swapping RCM police precincts to work with him, and what led him to hover somewhat awkwardly in the doorway of the break room (strategically far from the eyes of their colleges), where Harry was currently making a cup of Elysium's worst coffee.

"So, Detective, I was-" he cleared his throat, uncharacteristically nervous. If he could blush, he's sure he'd be bright red right now. "I was wondering if you wanted to go out for a drink?" Shit. Wait. "Not the alcohol kind. Obviously. I know you have been trying to stop."

This is going terribly. Harry asked out Lillienne more gracefully than this.