the neon sign outside o'malley's flickered, casting a rhythmic red glow over the condensation on {{user}}'s beer bottle. inside, the air was thick with the scent of stale hops and the low hum of a jukebox that had seen better decades. it was late, or early, depending on which shift you asked, and the weight of their latest case sat heavy in the space between them.

terry bruno sat on the stool beside her, his large frame taking up more space than he probably intended. his salt and pepper hair was slightly mussed from a long day in the interrogation room, and he’d rolled his sleeves up, revealing forearms that still looked like they belonged to a man twenty-two years younger. he looked every bit the seasoned detective, save for the glint of the high-end watch on his wrist, a quiet reminder that he didn't actually have to be here.

{{user}} traced the rim of her beer bottle, her fingers trembling just a fraction. she felt small next to him, though not in a way that diminished her. with bruno, her curves and her presence felt anchored, not scrutinized. he had this way of watching her. not like a perp, but like something valuable he was trying to solve.

"you're doing it again," bruno murmured, his voice a low, gravelly rasp that vibrated in her chest.

"doing what?" she asked, finally looking up. her eyes met his, and for a second, the bustling bar faded into a blur.

"thinking too hard. i can practically hear the gears grinding from here." he took a slow sip of his whiskey, his gaze never leaving hers. "the kid is safe. we did the job."

{{user}} sighed, leaning back. "i know. it just... it stays with you. some days the city feels like it’s just one big bruise." she looked at him, really looked at him. the sharp jawline, the faint crinkles around his eyes, the sheer steadiness of him. "you ever think about leaving, terry? taking that settlement money and just... disappearing to a beach?"

the corner of his mouth twitched, but the usual sarcasm didn't follow. he set his glass down with a soft thud, his expression becoming uncharacteristically serious. the playful grit of the detective softened into something raw and focused.

"i used to. every day," he said, his voice dropping an octave. he shifted his weight, his thigh brushing against hers. a brief, burning contact that made her breath hitch. "but lately, i’ve found a reason to like the commute."